Hard Knocks: An Ultimate Novella. Lori Foster
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six years old, rambunctious, and considered the rec center a second home.
“I need you to take it easy, okay? If you’re going to roughhouse, keep it on the mats.”
“’Kay, Savage.”
Gage glanced at a clock on the wall. The younger crowd would be heading out in a few more minutes. Still holding the boy suspended, he asked, “Who’s taking you home?”
“My gram is comin’ in her van and takin’ all of us.”
“Good.” Luckily the grandmother was reliable, because the parents sure as hell weren’t. And no way did Gage want the boys walking home. The rec center was in a decent enough area, but where the boys lived...
The kid laughed as Gage flipped him around and put him back on his feet.
Like a shot, he took off toward Miles, who was already surrounded by boys as he rounded them up.
Grandma would arrive soon. She’d probably appreciate how the kids had been exercised in the guise of play, schooled on control and manners, and fed. The boys always ate like they were starving. But then, Gage remembered being that age and how he could pack it away.
Briefly, his gaze met Harper’s, and damn it, he felt it, that charged connection that had always existed between them. She wore a silly smile that, despite his dark mood, made him want to smile, too.
But as they looked at each other, she deliberately wiped the smile away. Pretending she hadn’t seen him at all, she got back to work.
Gage grunted. He had no idea what had gotten into her, but in his current frame of mind, better that he just let it go for now.
Very shortly, the most dedicated fight fans would arrive to catch the prelims. By the time the main card started, drawing a few high school seniors, some interested neighbors and the other fighters, there’d be bodies in all the chairs, sprawled on the mats and leaning up against the concrete walls. Equipment had been either moved out of the way or stored for the night.
This was a big deal. One of their own was competing tonight.
The high school guys were looking forward to a special night where they’d get to mingle more with their favorite fighters.
A dozen or more women were anxious to do some mingling of their own.
Armie, the twisted hedonist, had been judicious in handing out the invites: some very hot babes would be in attendance, women who’d already proven their “devotion” to fighters.
Gage couldn’t have cared less. If he hadn’t been fucked by karma, he’d be there in Japan, too. He didn’t feel like celebrating, damn it. He didn’t want to expose anyone to his nasty disposition.
The very last thing he wanted was a female groupie invading his space.
Actually, he’d been so caught up in training, he’d been away from female company for some time now. You’d think he’d be anxious to let off steam in the best way known to man.
But whenever he thought of sex...
Harper laughed again, and Gage set his back teeth even while sneaking a peek to see what she found so funny. Armie said something to her, and she swatted at him while smiling widely.
Gage did a little more teeth grinding.
Like most of the fighters, Armie understood Gage’s preoccupation and ignored him. Now if he would just ignore Harper, too, Gage could get back to brooding.
Instead, he was busy thinking of female company—but there was only one woman who crowded his brain.
And for some reason, she seemed irritated with him.
His dark scowl made the stitches above his eye pull and pinch, drawing his thoughts from one problem and back to another.
One stupid mistake, one botched move during practice, and he had an injury that got him kicked out of the competition.
Damn it all, he didn’t want to be here tonight, but if he hadn’t shown up, he’d have looked sad and pathetic.
“Stop pacing,” Harper said from right behind him. “It makes you look sad and pathetic.”
Hearing his concern thrown right back at him, Gage’s left eye twitched. Leave it to Harper to know his exact thoughts and to use them as provocation. But then, he had to admit, she provoked him so well....
He’d missed the fights. And he’d missed Harper.
The only upside to heading home had been getting to see her. But since his return three days ago, she’d given him his space—space he wanted, damn it, just maybe not from her. At the very least, she could have wanted to see him, instead of treating him like one of the guys.
Relishing a new focus, Gage paused, planning what he’d say to her.
She didn’t give him a chance to say anything.
With a hard whap to his ass, she walked on by and sashayed down the hall to the back.
Gage stood there, the sting of her swat ramping up his temper...and something else. Staring after her, he suffered the sizzling clench of emotions that always surfaced whenever Harper got close—which, since he’d returned home with his injury, had been rare.
He’d known her for years—grown up with her, in fact—and had always enjoyed her. Her wit. Her conversation. Her knowledge of mixed martial arts competition.
Her cute bod.
They’d recently taken their friendship to the next level, dating, spending more private time together. He’d enjoyed the closeness...
But he’d yet to enjoy her naked.
Time and circumstances had conspired against him on that one. Just when things had been heating up with Harper, just when it seemed she was ready to say “yes” instead of “not yet,” he’d been offered the fight on the main card in Japan. He’d fought with the SBC before. He wasn’t a newbie.
But always in the prelims, never on the highly publicized, more important main card. Never with such an anticipated event.
In a whirlwind, he’d gone off to a different camp to train with Cannon, getting swept up in the publicity and interviews that went with a main card bout...
Until, just a few lousy days ago—so fucking close—he’d miscalculated in practice and sustained a deep cut from his sparring partner’s elbow.
A cut very near his eye that required fifteen stitches.
It made him sick to think of how quickly he’d been pronounced medically ineligible. Before he’d even caught his breath the SBC had picked his replacement.
That lucky bastard was now in Japan, ready to compete.
And Gage was left in Ohio. Instead of fighting for recognition, he fought his demons—and got tweaked by Harper.
He went after her, calling down the empty hallway, “I am not pathetic.”
From inside a storage room, he heard her loud “Ha!” of disagreement.
Needing a target for his turbulent emotions and deciding Harper was perfect—in every way—he strode into the room.
And promptly froze.
Bent at the waist, Harper had her sexy ass in the air while she pulled disposable cups off the bottom shelf.
His heart skipped a beat. Damn, she was so hot. Except for bad timing, he’d be more familiar with that particular, very perfect part of her anatomy.
Not sleeping with her was yet another missed opportunity, one that plagued him more now that he didn’t have the draining distraction of an upcoming fight. His heart started punching a little too hard. Anger at his circumstances began to morph into red-hot lust as he considered the possibilities.
But then, whenever he thought of Harper, lust was the least