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He folds his arms over his chest and nods. “Yeah. Kade doesn’t like to mix business with pleasure.”
“Isn’t this a little of both?”
He shakes his head. “No, not for Kade. This is just a means to an end for him.”
Killian and Chase stroll over to us, now looking more like best friends than two brothers fighting over a girl.
“Trying to steal my girl already?” Killian says to Nate, laughing.
Before Nate can answer him, engines are growling behind us, tires are screeching. Two dark-haired men jump out of their cars yelling at each other.
“Fuck,” Chase says, stomping off toward the two guys.
Killian fishes his keys from his pocket and hands them to me. “Go get in the car and lock it. I’ll be there in a few minutes. I gotta take care of this.”
Without a word, I set off toward the car, and Killian and Nate run behind Chase to get to the two guys about to fight in the middle of the dirt road. I slide into the passenger seat and lock the doors, watching from a distance as the first punch is thrown.
My stomach knots when I see Killian jump into the middle of it dragging Roman by the shoulders away from the other guy. He releases his hold on Roman, but before he can maintain his balance, another man comes out of nowhere and lands a hit to his jaw. Killian’s head turns to the side on impact.
I want to run over to him, but what can I do? Nothing.
So, I’m forced to sit there and watch Killian and his friends fight three other guys. The crowd surrounding them erupts into an uproar. From what I can tell, there are more than the two crews here to race, each of them now getting involved in some way. Some people are landing punches while others are trying to end the many fights which have broken out.
The longer I watch, the more turned on I get, now thinking of dragging Killian into the backseat to claim his prize. The things he does to me without even trying drive me insane. I never thought one man could ooze so much sex appeal until I met Killian. One touch and I’m weakened. He’s like a drug to me.
Eventually, the more sensible guys who were standing around observing and drinking beer break up the fights. Killian emerges from the crowd, unfazed, and spits the blood from his mouth at a tall blond with thick arms covered in tats. He looks so disoriented he doesn’t even bother to swing at him. I open the doors for Killian sucking in a deep breath as he walks over to the car.
“Sorry about that,” he says when he gets behind the wheel, blood running down his face from the small cut above his eyebrow.
I grab a tissue from my purse and then lean over to wipe the blood from his face.
He holds my hand to stop me, a fire blazing behind his emerald irises. “I’m okay. I’ve gotten into worse fights playing hockey.”
“I didn’t ask if you’re okay,” I say, dabbing at the blood again. “Let me clean you up.”
He releases his grip on me, sits back in the chair, and allows me to finish.
“How can this much blood come from such a small cut?” I wonder, not meaning to say it aloud.
“The smaller cuts are always the real gushers,” he says, breathing on my hand. “Have you ever watched the UFC?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Some of those guys get the tiniest cuts, and they have to end the fights because the bleeding is so bad. I had one once when I was playing hockey. I got into a fight with a defenseman from Notre Dame last year. I couldn’t even see it was so bad. Coach had to bench me for the rest of the game because of it.”
“Seems kinda drastic for a cut.”
“It was toward the end of the game anyway. We were getting our asses handed to us, so it didn’t help that I had sit it out. But Parker somehow pulled a win out of his ass with a Hail Mary of a slap shot that hit the post and bounced in. We got lucky that game. We should have lost.”
“You never talk about hockey,” I say, lowering the tissue from his face to take a look at my handy work.
“Not much to talk about.”
“See, this is what I was talking about when I said I wanted to get to know you. The little things matter.”
He rolls his shoulders against the leather seat. “You want to know dumb shit about hockey games?”
“I want to know everything about you.” I lean into his mouth and his lips part.
“Everything?” he whispers, the heat from his breath on my skin. “I don’t think you can handle all of it.”
“I can,” I mutter, and then he presses his lips to mine, our tongues working in harmony.
