Midwest Fighter (Kendall Family Book 2) (3 page)

I peer over at James. He exits the ring, veering for a gym bag on the cement floor. A blonde tart who apparently buys apparel in the young children’s aisle bounces over to his side with skin flashing beneath her ill-fitting shirt. For a fraction of a moment I’m completely gutted when she strokes his bare arm as they speak. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that someone like him would have a girl. I simply expected at the very least he’d hold out for someone who shops in the adult department.

Tensing, James removes her hand. The harsh look he throws her would indicate if they
are
in fact together, there’s trouble in paradise. I would venture to guess it has everything to do with his inability to cope with everything that’s happened.

“It was a waste of time to come here,” Evelyn grumbles. “He’s not in any shape to talk.” Turning in Charlie’s arms, she faces him with a defeated sigh. “Let’s go check into the hotel. I’m exhausted.”

With a shake of my head, I touch her arm. “Give me a moment. I’ll sort this out.”

Head held high, I start for where James steps into a pair of low-cut running pants while the blonde becomes visibly agitated at his side. “This shit isn’t healthy!” she snarls, locking her hands on her hips. “You can’t take your anger out on people who are trying to help you!”

Arms crossed, I stop two feet away from her. “And why not?” I demand. “Who are you to discredit someone’s feelings? Unless you’re his head doctor, I’d suggest you give the man room to deal in whatever way he sees fit.”

For a moment they both stare back at me, slack-jawed, until the blonde’s unremarkable features storm over. “Who am I? I’m his
girlfriend
. Who the fuck are
you?”

“Sharlo,” James says in a dark tone.

The sound of my name coming from his delectable lips sends a tremor to my toes. Within the depths of his warm gaze, pupils expanding to remarkable widths, I’m met with glimpses of a strong man warring with a rather frightened boy. It would appear the source of his anger comes from the unwillingness to let himself hurt in the way necessary. The urgent need to kiss him until the hardness fades away is almost too much to bare.

“Be a luv and merely come greet your sister,” I suggest, hooking my hand inside his tight bicep. Though his sweaty skin feels cold and clammy to the touch, it still manages to fill me with warmth, and his sour scent sends a beacon straight to my libido. “It’s all I ask. You’re not the only Kendall family member who’s had a helluva day. She could use her big brother right now probably even more than I would fancy a pint. It feels as if we’ve just completed the journey to Middle-earth.”

A minuscule hint of a smirk tugs at one of his cheeks. As we’re sharing a moment in our locked gazes, the blonde steps forward and gives my shoulder a healthy shove. “Hands
off,
Downtown Abbey!”

Rolling my eyes with the desire to correct her, I merely laugh as I right my footing.

“Back
away,
Ivy,” James warns the woman, giving her a shudder-worthy glare. “Just…
go home
. You’re not my girlfriend. That’s
not
going to happen.”

“After what we almost did last night?
Unbelievable,”
she mutters, shaking her blond mane. Curling her upper lip, she shoots daggers my way with squinted eyes before marching away. Whatever they
almost
did must not have been enough to make James care. He simply watches her leave before his big hand moves up and down my coat-covered arm. The pinch to his broad face has lessened considerably, yet there’s still an intensity lying dormant behind his eyes.

“You alright?”

“I will be once you get your arse over there and give your sister a proper hug. Be quick about it and I'll allow you to take me out for a pint afterward.”

“Not much of a drinker,” he says with a bit of the surliness returning.

Smiling cheerily, I press the palms of my hands flat against his hard chest. Bloody hell, it’s like standing up against a cement wall. Then again, a mere
wall
has never made my lady bits quiver with blinding bliss. If merely touching him in this innocent way can make my heart leap from my chest, I can’t imagine what would happen were we both naked and his hands were on my—

“I didn’t say
you
had to have a drink, now did I?” I quickly say, silencing my errant thoughts. When his gaze slowly drags down to my hands, I can't decide if I’ve made him uncomfortable or otherwise, so I step back. Swinging my arms down to my sides, I motion toward Evelyn. “Off you go then. Play the adoring big brother so we can get on with it.”

A deep grumble sounds deep inside his throat when he grabs a sweatshirt from the bag and slips it over his head, leaving the hoodie secured over his dark hair. There’s something dangerously sexy about the way his face darkens beneath the shadows of the material. His chocolate eyes flitter over to me as he passes en route to where his baffled sister watches on.

Suddenly he stops to look over his shoulder. One of the rare, but rather brilliant smiles I was afforded at the wedding, reappears for a fleeting moment. “I guess one drink wouldn’t hurt.”

My legs are literally shaking as he struts away. All at once I feel as if
I’ve
taken the place of the opponent he knocked on his ass. For the first time since Evelyn met Charlie, I believe I finally have an inkling of the unstoppable force drawing them together that they were powerless to stop, even if they had tried.

S
eeing
Sharlo standing among the endless piles of machinery parts in Cupp’s shed was the first thing to rescue me from the rage-fueled haze that had taken over ever since discovering Dad’s body. For a moment I thought I was seeing something that wasn’t really there, like an angel had been sent down from the heavens. Crazy as that may sound, I haven’t met anyone else with that perfect of a face.

Now, as she sits beside me in my pickup truck on our way to Roadrunners, it’s surreal. Seeing her long blond hair flowing over her shoulders, red wool coat standing out against the truck’s gray interior, having her here is more like something out of a dream. With a sinking sensation roiling in my gut, it becomes painfully obvious that she doesn’t belong anywhere near southern Minnesota. She’s way too polished. Too sophisticated.

She hasn’t said a word since she asked Evelyn to leave her room key at the hotel’s front desk. Whatever whispered conversation they exchanged before saying their goodbyes left my sister in good spirits. Evelyn was actually smiling when Charlie and his buddies lead her back to their rental. The way she looked at me after we hugged still made me uneasy, as if silently begging me to tell her that Dad isn’t really dead. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings of being fucking helpless, unable to fix things.

Though I appreciate the way Sharlo goes out of her way to give me space rather than firing off questions, I’m itching to know more about her and hear the sound of her sexy voice.

“You ever been to a town that only has one bar?” I ask.

When she turns to give me a bright, cheerful smile, her soft features glow in the dashboard light. Not much I wouldn’t give to run my fingers over her delicate, pink lips and take them for a test drive. Seems the more time we spend together, the harder it becomes to resist her flawless beauty. Goddamn I could really use a good fuck for release but I don’t want to use her that way. She’s too good for that kind of bullshit.

“Of course, only not in the States,” she answers. “Normally I’ve only seen that kind of thing in remote villages in places like Spain and Brazil. Are there a list of vaccinations I should be up to date on?”

I almost chuckle, able to appreciate that she’s good-natured about being so far away from the big city life. “You travel a lot?”

“Only since birth. Mum sees life as a never-ending adventure even though Dad has always been tied down by his employ with a well-to-do computer corporation. We lived in England for a short go—just long enough to make me sound properly British—before Dad acquired the CEO position-of-a-lifetime in California. Once we returned, Mum didn't think twice about leaving him home or taking a holiday in Venice while he was away on business in places like Japan and Germany. One would think
he
would’ve been the one to abandon his ungrateful family and not the other way around. Course she didn’t head back home to England empty-handed and she’s been on permanent holiday ever since.”

“Are they both from England?”

“No. My dad is from the outskirts of
Vegas
of all places. After a questionable childhood surrounded by vagrants and hookers, he chose to graduate from MIT with the highest of honors and relocated to Silicon Valley. Mum was his receptionist at his first employment. It was like something out of one of those dreadful soap operas in which the boss seduces the employee, only it was the other way around. Mum saw dollar signs.”

When I pull onto Main Street, my heart seizes in my chest. Roadrunners is fucking packed for a Tuesday night. It's rare but not unheard of. For all I know, it could be dart league.

I park across the street and tap my fingers on the steering wheel. No way I’m going in there. Everyone will either stare or ask questions about Dad. But I don’t have it in me to take Sharlo back to the hotel so early either. Since she approached me at Cupp’s, the gaping hole in my chest has become a little smaller and the pain has lessened enough that I can breathe. I don't know that anyone has made me feel comforted in that way, even on a good day.

“Dad would’ve been up here on a night like this,” I mumble, surprised to hear myself saying the words out loud.

“I’d be just as keen on having a drive about the countryside,” Sharlo offers, touching my arm. “Evelyn tells me you do that sort of thing quite often around here.”

A glimmer of hope fills me with her suggestion. Maybe the night won't be over so soon after all. “There’s an off-sale store attached to the bar.”

Her neatly trimmed eyebrows rise. “Right then. Sit tight, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

When she leaves the truck I’m drenched in the enticing scent of vanilla, giving me another reason to want more of her. Back when she opened her apartment door in New York, I was first drawn in by her striking beauty. Now I’m invested in the way she makes me feel when we’re together. As many times as I tell myself anything we start would only be temporary, it doesn’t seem to matter.

My thoughts return to Dad once she’s out of sight. I didn’t ask how soon they’d be performing the autopsy. Is his mutilated body laying on some cold cart in the city morgue? I assume he would want to be buried next to Mom, but I remember him saying something once about wanting to be cremated. How “normal” will he look for the visitation? Would cremation be a better option?

I don’t realize I’m struggling to breathe until seeing Sharlo darting across the quiet street with a brown bag in either hand. There’s an unrestrained grin stretched over her lips when she comes barreling back in at my side.

“I feel as if I just committed a bloody robbery! Are you aware there are entire bottles of wine for
three dollars
in that establishment?” She slides one of the bottles out from its bag. “Are these made on a
local
farm?”

A loud chuckle falls from my throat. Jesus…I haven’t laughed in forever. How someone can be so naive and sure of themselves at the same time is refreshing. And her amusement by something as simple as a cheap bottle of wine is so damn hot that I suddenly want her in the worst way
.

“They don’t have Boones Farm in Brooklyn?” I ask.

“If they did I’d spend half my existence pissed up! It’s brilliant!”

“You may not feel the same way about it in the morning,” I tell her, unable to stop myself from meeting her smile with a smaller one. This spirited woman sure knows how to get inside my head and make me feel things when I’m so intent on closing everything off.

Sharlo alternates between talking and drinking as we head out on the first gravel south of town. In the short time I’ve known her, I never would’ve guessed she’s the daughter of a millionaire, but from the adventures she describes, it’s clear her family is filthy rich. The way she talks about her life is all very matter-of-fact, like it’s normal to attend private schools and vacation all around the world with nannies and servants.

Even though her stories enforce the fact that we come from different lifestyles and wouldn’t be too compatible because of it, I can’t imagine anything else I’d rather be doing than listening to her speak. Just because there won’t ever be anything meaningful between us doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the ride while it lasts.

A while later I pull into Arden’s Pit, the secluded lot where we hung out as teens to drink and mess around with our girlfriends. Can’t say I’ve been here many times since high school graduation. Despite being filled with bare oak trees and brown hills that have yet to feel the occasional warmth of spring, seeing the place after all these years brings back a rush of good memories from the old days.

Excitement reflects in Sharlo’s beautiful blue eyes as I park the truck beside the moon-lit pond. I unbuckle my seatbelt and kill the engine before reaching in the back of the cab for a blanket, my coat, and the lighter I keep handy for burning garbage.

“Come on,” I say, motioning for her to follow with a tilt of my head. “I’ll start a fire.”

Two bottles of wine in hand, Sharlo stays a step behind as I make my way to the tree-trunk bench Asher made our senior year. When I hold the blanket out she steps forward, grinning in a cute-as-hell way as I wrap it around her shoulders. I hear the sound of her lips breaking the seal on the bottle as she takes a seat on the bench, watching as I work on getting flames lit inside the metal fire ring.

Once the fire’s going and I’m sitting at her side, she passes me the nearly empty bottle of wine. Despite the chilly air, I feel a surge of warmth when her thigh is pressed to mine even though the blanket and several layers of clothing separate us. All sorts of impure thoughts race through my brain.
The things I’d love to do to her body, starting with those perfectly shaped lips and making my way south. I’ll bet she tastes as good as she smells…everywhere.
I’m quick to shut them down before I become a grunting buffoon.
Focus, meathead
.

“Now
this
is something you’d never see in the city!” she says. Titling her head back, she looks at the thick cluster of stars shining through the darkness. I can’t stop staring at her thick eyelashes brushing against her smooth skin. “Something about the serenity and knowing there isn’t a soul around for miles makes it quite lovely once you get past the idea that there could be massive bears milling about in the shadows.”

“No bears around here.” I take a healthy gulp before passing the bottle back. “You should see it in the summer when everything’s green. The water’s usually thick with birds and butterflies.”

She glances at me with a cute little smirk. “When I was little, my mum was always hopped up on narcotics so my dad would invent adventures to get me out of the house. I’ll never forget the first time he took me to Santa Cruz to watch the Monarchs migrate. The sky was
thick
with black and orange. Scared the shit out of me the first time one landed on my arm until Dad explained it was a sign of good luck. From there on out I was
obsessed
with the little buggers, even dressed as one every Halloween up through high school. Their beauty is what first got me interested in art.” Looking back up at the sky, she sighs loudly. “Sadly, our yearly visits to the migration stopped around the time I was eight when Dad began to travel the world for months at a time. How I miss those special visits. They were quite magical. Whenever I see a butterfly, it brings back the happy memories of my childhood.”

A lump rises in my throat as she talks about her dad. Whatever memories I have with my dad are all I’m going to get in this lifetime. A searing band of pain stretches across my chest, threatening to break me.

“Yeah,” I say quietly, not really sure what I’m agreeing to.

She’s quiet a moment before gesturing to the pond. “Does this land belong to your family or will we be finishing out the remainder of this lovely evening behind bars for trespassing?”

“It was my grandpa’s. My uncle and my dad dug this pond out when they were in high school. I threw a lot of wild parties here with my buddies back in our day. In the summer we’d drive my grandpa’s old Bronco full throttle over the hills and go skinny-dipping after dark. It was always packed with people on the weekends. The cops knew about the place. They probably knew we were drinking too, but they always left us alone to do our thing. One of the advantages of living in a small community, I guess. Dad was good friends with the sheriff.”

Her lips bend deeper with a sexy grin. The overwhelming need to taste them saves me from any more painful thoughts of Dad.

“I adore the sound of Young James. Seems he was a rebellious bloke.” She pauses to give me a mischievous wink before sucking down the last of the wine and setting the empty bottle on the bench between us. “Your adult version could learn a thing or two about cutting loose from someone that reckless.”

Staring down at the still water, the bitter feelings I’ve been working on controlling since Dad’s death creep back in. “Too much has changed since then,” I snarl as disturbing thoughts of the past resurface. My fingers dig into my knees as rage hardens my insides. No matter how hard I try, one way or another the people I love most always end up getting hurt. Dad’s brutal murder is proof that life will always find a way to knock me down whenever I think things might actually be okay.

One of Sharlo’s small, cold hands touches my jaw, pulling me out of the darkness. My lungs don’t answer the need to breathe when I turn to meet her kind, sparkling gaze. The way she looks at me feels as if she’s taking a glimpse inside my soul, seeing me in a way no one else has.

“It’s perfectly normal to be brassed off after what you’ve been through. If you need to punch something at the gym to channel your anger, then by all means, have at it. Just don’t let it consume you and make
bloody
sure it doesn’t come between you and those you care about.”

As her fingers brush over my cheek, something carnal awakens inside of me and my balls pull tight. Ever since she told Ivy off, the raw desire to taste her has been growing, waiting to be realized. I can’t deny I want her in the worst fucking way. She’s kind and genuine. Someone I could place my trust in and no longer worry if everything would be okay, because it wouldn’t matter as long as she was mine.

The way she continues looking at me with that soul-seeing vision, her thick eyelashes fluttering like butterflies, it’s useless to fight any longer. Like a monarch, she’s beautiful and untouchable, only coming into my life for a short time. I don’t intend to let the opportunity go to waste.

With a burn spreading through my chest, I dip my face down to meet hers. When I pause a mere inch away, inhaling her vanilla scent, she brings her other hand up to my jaw. Her gaze draws down to watch as her thumb brushes across the crack in my bottom lip where Asher almost knocked me down. Electrified by her touch, I move in to claim her mouth without holding back.

Her lips are incredibly soft and taste like the sweet wine she’s drinking. They answer mine stroke-for-stroke, almost as desperate. I growl when her fingers twist my hair and her warm tongue finds its way inside my mouth, lapping against my own. The fiery, demanding kiss leaves no doubt in my mind that Sharlo is the kind of confident woman who knows exactly what she wants. And right now she wants me. I fist the silky hair at the back of her head and draw her in closer to make it clear just how badly I want her in return.