Breaking the Rules (The Breaking Series Book 1) Page 4

  “What’s that?”

  “Entrepreneurism.” He flashed a grin, taking a pull of his beer. “It’s the steadiest girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

  Amara laughed, gaze lingering on his face. “You don’t look like the steady-girlfriend type.”

  “My business and I have been going at it for three years now. That might as well be forever.”

  “Congratulations.” Her gaze wandered down the bar as she thought about something. “Do you want to go sit outside with me?”

  Travis looked around the bar. The racket had grown to a dull roar throughout the night. He nodded. He’d follow her wherever she wanted to go, really. She headed through a door labeled “Patio.”

  A smallish square of cement greeted them, with one plastic chair next to an overflowing cigarette-butt container. Amara grinned at him and sat down on a parking block, looking out toward the cars filling the back lot. Travis joined her. The relative quiet of the night thrummed inside him.

  They stared out at the cars and up at the sky for a few moments until Amara spoke up. “You look so different from how I remember you.”

  “It’s been a while, huh?” He sipped at his beer. Honking sounded in the distance. “You look pretty different yourself. You never used to dress like this. Certainly never went out on a weeknight.” And now you’re hot enough to make me consider betraying my best friend.

  “I grew up, finally. You did too.” She nudged him. “You were always so scrawny back then.”

  “Yeah, I was pretty scrawny.” His heart tightened in his chest at the memories. He tried not to think of his high-school self too much. There was so much pain there, so much anxiety and failure. He never understood people who looked back on high-school days like they were the best ever. He was happy to leave them in the dust as soon as he could.

  “How did you get so beefy?” She looked over at him, eyes glinting from the nearby streetlight.

  He tilted his head from side to side. It had been a combination of so many things. “Mostly from all the fighting.”

  “Why did you fight so much? I remember my freshman year Eddie used to tell me about you getting the shit kicked out of you all the time. I never understood.”

  “If you had my dad, you woulda fought too.” He laughed a little, trying to make it sound lighter than it was. Like his father hadn’t been the sole reason he’d become a half-cocked hellion, getting into scraps every chance he could.

  Amara traced her finger over a crack in the asphalt. “Was he bad? Eddie never told me anything about him.”

  Travis contemplated the ground, watching her bronzed finger trace the random whirls of the crack. “Yeah, he was pretty bad. Fighting was like the only way he’d pay attention to me.”

  She paused in her tracing, looking up at him, eyes full of sadness. How the fuck had they gotten so deep already? He never talked about this shit with anyone…not even Eddie, even though his buddy had lived through some of it alongside him. Something about her made it feel okay, though. Like his pain was safe with her.

  “Did it ever work out? I mean…did he ever finally notice?”

  Travis squeezed his beer bottle. “Never quite the way I wanted. Did you know I’m a five-time UFC middleweight champion? Never even got a congrats from him.”

  Amara rested her head against her knees, watching him. She brought her hand up to his shoulder and left it there for a few moments. He offered her a small smile. Though the very fact that they were having this conversation was abnormal, it felt absolutely right at the same time.

  “Do you still talk to him?”

  “Not much.”

  Amara’s gaze drifted back to the asphalt. “So how did you get into the UFC?”

  “I got really good with all that fighting I did. Started winning money, and then finally some people noticed me. I joined a training camp…but they had some bad practices. Got mixed up with steroids and all that. From there…it ballooned. Until one day the UFC was knocking on my door.”

  “Shit. I don’t know what to probe first.” She laughed a little. “I thought you couldn’t use steroids in professional sports.”

  “You can’t. I had to detox. That shit was rough.”

  “But better for you,” she said.

  “UFC saved my life in that respect.” Travis sniffed, digging his heel into the asphalt. After a moment of pleasant silence, Travis nudged her. “What about you? Anything emotionally scarring from your past you’d like to share?”

  Their eyes met, and something warm shivered through him. He liked this—a lot. He hadn’t talked to anyone like this in so long…and hell if he’d ever felt so comfortable so quickly around a hottie like Amara.

  “You know that our dad left when I was five.”

  Travis nodded. Growing up, Travis wished he and Eddie could have found some other, new dad to replace their shitty ones. One that would have called them on the phone and been excited about their grades. That never happened, no matter how many nights he prayed for it as he fell asleep.

  “When I lived in DC, I reached out to him.” She fiddled with her shoelaces as she talked. “I tracked him down, found where he was living, and I called him.”

  “Whoa.” Travis took a swig of his beer. “What’d he say?”

  “He acted like I had the wrong number at first…and then he quietly told me a time and place that we could meet up.”

  “You went?”

  She nodded. “I went. I wish I could say I stood him up. Because that’s what he did to me. Didn’t even show up there.” She sighed. “I don’t know what I expected. He walked out on us, after all. I thought maybe he would have been excited to hear from me.” She paused, swallowing. “I haven’t told Eddie or my mom still. I’m embarrassed.”

  “I won’t rat on you.”

  She sipped at her drink. “Thanks.” She paused. “I feel like if Eddie finds out, it’ll crush him more. Make him even angrier than he’s already been his entire life about it.”

  “Can’t blame him. Most important man in his life walked out on him.” Travis swallowed a knot in his throat. He sometimes wished his own dad had had the balls to just walk out on him. Like that might have been better than the violence or the pure lack of interest.

  “Yeah, but anger can’t be an excuse for blindness.”

  He furrowed a brow. “What do you mean?”

  “Since coming home, I’ve been noticing some things.” She shook her head, sighing. “His overprotectiveness…his rigidity…his anxiety…all that. He’s always been this way. But I think it’s gotten worse. It hasn’t gotten better, at least. But he refuses to see it.”

  Travis took a long draw from his beer, her words making uncomfortable swirls in his belly. She was sharp—and she was right. “So what should he do?”

  “He’s got to stop letting those wounds rule his life.”

  A moment of silence passed, and then her phone buzzed. She fished it out of her pocket. A text from Eddie read: You gonna be here soon?

  “I think this is our ten-minute warning,” Amara said, tapping out a response to her brother. “I’m not making you late, am I?”

  “Not at all.” Travis could stay here all night, perched on the parking stop in the night air by her side.

  “It’s nice to talk to you. Coming back here I feel like I don’t know a soul anymore.” She smiled at him, some strands of her silky brown hair crossing over her forehead. “And even though we never hung out during school, you’re still my people.”

  “All your high-school friends move away?”

  “Yeah, or they’re…I don’t know, in a different phase of life.” She laughed, but it sounded sad. “LA can feel so lonely sometimes.”

  Her words resonated inside him, a strange truth he’d never realized, like putting together the last piece of the puzzle that finally illuminated the picture. “You’re right. There’s so many fucking people everywhere, but most couldn’t give a shit.”

  “And even those who could give a shit feel lonely too.” She shook her head. “We live in strange patterns. Isolating ourselves in our homes, our cars, pulling away, but desperate for human contact.”

  “And exercise,” he added. “But I can’t tell you how many beautiful people I meet who are fucking miserable.”

  She grinned up at him, eyes sparkling. “Are you happy?”

  The question hit him like a surprise uppercut. So simple but so hard. “I am.”

  “You hesitated.”

  “There are things I still want. But I’m getting there. I feel good. I’m happy.” He paused. He felt like there was something missing in his business but couldn’t put his finger on it. “What about you?”

  “I’m happy, yeah.” She nodded. “But same as you. Things I’m still figuring out. I’ll get there.”

  He downed the last of his beer, heart aching strangely. Their conversation begged to be continued; he could sit out here for hours with her and still want more. That was a first in his world. A scary first. He’d been with plenty of girls in his life, but she felt like the first real woman.

  “Eddie said you were looking for a job.”

  “Yeah, I had an interview the other day. Got a couple more lined up.”

  “What are you looking at?”

  She shrugged. “Whatever can pay my bills and bring peace to the world. I work in nonprofits. I applied for some admin positions at a couple of places, a domestic violence shelter, a rehab clinic… We’ll see who wants me.”

  “Wow.” She wasn’t just gorgeous on the outside; it went all the way through. “You’re doing important work.”

  Her heartfelt grin was so pure, he wanted to kiss it—bring her face to his and feel those juicy lips against his own, even for the briefest of seconds.

  Travis stood and offered a hand to Amara
. She took it and popped up to her feet easily, giggling. He wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her in close—a reflex, one that operated more fluidly with the influence of alcohol.

  She inhaled sharply, her dark eyes sweeping up to meet his. Something passed between them, a shiver in time that sparked question marks and exclamation points. He told himself to let go of her, but he cinched her closer, her body soft and curvaceous in his grip.

  “Mmm.” He tried to laugh a little, but it sounded forced. “You’re hard to let go of.”

  The corner of her mouth turned up. “That’s what they tell me.”

  “Why didn’t you come home sooner?”

  Her gaze darkened as he slid his hands to the dip in her waist. “I’ve never planned on living in LA again. I’ll be back out East as soon as I can.”

  Her words jarred something loose, and he found the clarity to step away. But not before squeezing a hip. He headed for the door, reluctant to leave this cocoon of intimacy in the bar’s back lot. It left him desperate to recreate it; desperate to find more ways to see her and spend time with her, to talk and open up and just be near her.

  He pulled the door open, mind spinning when the noise of the bar reached them. Back into the fray. Amara took her seat where she’d been sitting before, casting him a shy grin as he walked around the other side to find Eddie.

  The way she looked at him felt like they were dating, like maybe they’d been dating for years. How could he feel so good around her, so quickly? It was practically a puzzle—made even more complicated by the fact that she was Eddie’s sister, the one eternal forbidden fruit.

  But that didn’t mean he had to act on anything. He could just be around her for as long as he could. Until the fascination wore off, or they got tired of each other, or whatever else might happen.

  As far as he could see, she was the first bright spot to come into his life in too long. And he’d be damned if he didn’t chase it—just for a little bit, just to see.

  Chapter 4

  “Mar.” The annoyance in Eddie’s voice felt like a slap. “Calm your ass.”

  “What?” She flung clothes around the dark bedroom. She’d just seen the sports bra a minute ago. If only she had more than five square feet of livable space in this damn apartment, she could keep track of things.

  “Come to the gym with me. You’re being ridiculous.”

  “I am not being ridiculous.” She huffed, sitting on the bed. The morning had been a series of unfortunate failures. Car troubles meant she’d missed a nine a.m. interview; another nonprofit had emailed her around eleven saying she didn’t quite fit to interview further. And now, nearing noon, the crushing implications of joblessness were exacerbated by the loss of her sports bra.

  “Blow off some steam.” He jerked his head toward the hallway. “Try a different class. You know you’ll like it. Holt will get you in for free, so don’t worry about the money.”

  She sighed, massaging her face in her hands. “I can’t find my gym clothes.”

  Eddie stepped into the bedroom and flipped the light on. He took a look around, peered under the desk, and then extracted the fuchsia garment from the peg of the desk chair. “Here. Now are you ready?”

  She cracked a grin, snatching the bra out of her brother’s hands. “Thanks. I guess I’m a little stressed out this morning.”

  He scoffed. “A little? Girl, you need to take a breath. It’s okay if you don’t find a job in a week, you know. It takes longer than that.”

  “I’m just so mad still about the car. How could it just not turn on, the day of my interview?”

  He shrugged. “Bad luck. But my guys are finishing it up now. It was the starter. We got it good to go. So come on.”

  She sighed, sifting through a few more items on the bed. It would help, too, if she had put any of the clothes from her suitcase into the dresser. “Okay. I’ll be ready.”

  “I meet Holt at one. I’m gonna go get the car from the mechanics next door, and then you better have your sweat face ready.”

  He gave her a pointed look and disappeared down the hallway.

  An hour later, Amara blinked at the bright, crisp lighting of Holt Body Fitness. Steel beams crisscrossed the two-story-tall foyer. The glass wall between the welcome hall and the main weight room sparkled, like it got a rubdown at least every half hour.

  The place seemed cleaner, more interesting, and trendier than she remembered from the last time. Even the foyer seemed like it could be used in a top-model ad, some lithe model strewn along the low, blocky sofas or draped over the angular reception desk.

  Who had done his decorating? If Travis had a hand in it, she was dying to see his apartment. That tower she picked him up from the other night looked pretty upper-crust. Hard to believe Eddie’s best friend could live there. In her mind, they were all still bumbling teens trying to scrape together enough money to buy a dinner out. Occasionally, the fact that she had a 401(k) still shocked her.

  “Hooolty.” Eddie laughed as he approached his buddy. They were the definition of platonic lovers. A grin blossomed on Travis’s face, and he grabbed Eddie’s hand in a shake, bringing his arm around to hug him, which turned into a full-blown bear hug.

  “You missed yesterday,” Travis said, punching him in the arm.

  Eddie winced. “I had this promotion scheduled. I told you.”

  Travis grabbed Eddie’s shoulders, squeezing them so tightly that Eddie sucked in a breath. “Well, it’s shoulder day. Get ready.”

  Amara could sit here all day and watch the two of them. But who was she kidding? It was Travis she could watch, like some exotic creature on display. He swiveled toward her, nodding. “’Sup, Amara?”

  “Hey, Travis.”

  “What are you trying to get into today?” Something about his tone told her he’d forgotten entirely about their sensual slip on the back patio last Wednesday. The nearness that had practically burned the hem of her top. Maybe she’d missed her one chance to have a Holt fling.

  She peered toward the hall that led to the various workout classrooms, and then over Travis’s shoulder toward the glass-encased weight room. Laughter reached her—a group of guys making their way into the weight room. “This shoulder day sounds kind of interesting.”

  His eyebrows went up as his gaze traveled across her chest. He was just assessing her, but the attention was titillating. She wondered if he could see the tight points of her nipples through her tank top. She straightened her spine, stuck out her chest a bit.

  “All right. Let’s get you in there.” He spun on his heels and led them both to the weight room. Only a couple of days since the Dinky Bar and he seemed somehow new and different. Despite the energy and the newness, there was a quiet steadiness to him that she sensed, was desperate to get more of.

  His gym was a bizarre extension of him too. Seemed the building itself was a polished, handsome man leading people down the path to wellness, beckoning them to come along. It was hard to come inside and not feel energized.

  They breezed through the doors, past the attendant on duty. All eyes turned to them. She felt like a pauper in the wake of the king.

  Travis led them to the far corner, where props and workout paraphernalia were stored. He passed two foam rollers to them and then took one for himself.

  “We’ve gotta warm up first,” he said to her. Eddie must have known exactly what was coming; he knelt on the ground and arranged the foam roller under his back.

  She watched as Travis lay down on the ground, propping himself up by his shoulders while he rolled the foam underneath his low back. His calves flexed while he worked it up and down slowly. He talked, but what was he saying? She nodded distractedly, glancing at his pelvis again as he rolled. Maybe the next step was to mount him? That would probably loosen up her shoulder girdle or whatever.

  “Okay?” He hopped up to his feet. “Then Eddie will show you the band stretch. I’ll be right back.”

  He hurried off toward someone who had waved at him from across the gym. Travis was a hawk; she hadn’t even realized anyone else had entered needing his attention. But how could she? She was too absorbed with watching the back-and-forth of his penis girdle.

  Amara joined Eddie on the floor; he was gazing peacefully at the ceiling as he rolled back and forth.