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“I had a shitty childhood and I’m not a good bet for kids. I’d break them or damage them mentally. Something. But if your boy is at the Naval Academy, he sounds more like a man to me. I doubt I can ruin someone that old.”
Those weren’t the words I expected. Too much baggage, too much effort for someone else’s kids, perhaps. Lots of possibilities. But I never thought he'd say he was flawed, damaged enough that he wasn’t worthy. To me, from the little bit I knew about him, that didn’t seem possible.
The conversation had gotten heavy pretty fast, so I just nodded and moved on. “I didn’t know you and Simon knew each other. From where?”
He looked at me suspiciously. “You really don’t know, do you?”
I felt like I was missing the punch line of a joke. “Know what?” Then it came to me. Oh shit. I backed up a step, realizing my gaffe and pasted on a fake smile. “You’re gay. Why didn’t you tell me you were gay? It doesn’t bother me, if you were afraid to tell me. I mean—”
“Emory,” he cut in, shaking his head, hand up. I think he actually rolled his eyes at me. “I’m not gay.”
I sighed in relief. Not that I cared that he was gay, but that I didn’t want him to be gay. I wanted him to like women, preferably me.
“I’ve never met Simon before, but he knows me. Knows of me. I’m well known in the MMA community.” When I frowned once again, he added, “That’s Mixed Martial Arts. I’m sure you’ve seen it before on TV or a commercial or something. I did that professionally a while ago and won some big fights. I’ve retired from fighting now.”
I cocked my head and looked at him, thinking maybe I’d recognize him or something, but I didn’t follow the fight scene and I would have remembered him before. “Are you saying you’re famous?”
He ran his hand over the back of his neck. Clearly being famous wasn’t something he wanted to share with me. “Sort of, but not that famous if you haven’t heard of me.”
“I don’t even know your last name.”
“Green. Grayson Green.”
“Yeah, never heard of you.” I grinned, but it slipped. “Does it bother you that I didn’t recognize you?” Had I hurt his feelings? I fiddled with the leather strap of my purse. I’d never met a famous person before.
“Hell, no.” His vehemence had me looking up at him. “I’m glad actually. A lot of people try to get close to me because of what I did, not who I am.”
I bit my lip and thought about how that must feel. “That must be pretty annoying.”
He clenched his jaw. “You have no idea.”
I didn’t know much about him, but definitely wanted to know more. “So. About that lunch? I’m starved.”
It was Gray’s turn to grin. “I still want to have lunch with a woman who has a kid and you still want to have lunch with a famous guy.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
Something flared in his eyes, bright and hot. “I’d like for you to be within five feet of me today, maybe even hold your hand again, so I need to shower. I stink. Would you mind if we stopped at my gym so I can get cleaned up first?”
CHAPTER FIVE
GRAY
Holy shit. The woman had a son. A grown son, who went to the Naval Academy, which was one of the hardest schools to get into in the country, which meant the kid was fucking smart. Not only that, the kid was willing to dedicate his life to the service of the country. For years. This wasn’t some kid with an undecided major joining a fraternity at a state school so he could party his four years away. Emory had made a man. A man that was most likely going to go off to war. She was here, calm as can be, knowing war could easily be in his future. That feat alone had me admiring her so much. I’d be shitting a brick if my child broke a finger, let alone shipped off to some desert battle.
I’d joined the Army right out of high school to escape my father and the hell he’d made my life and did enough tours to see evil and knew what her son would see—and live—firsthand. How it changed you. Scarred you. Made you hard. Because of this, but especially my dad, I learned how to fight well enough—and started at a young age—to become a professional when I got out. Won world championships. Built an empire around my name. Then, retiring, I used all that to build a gym of my own, to create new champions. I’d done a lot, accomplished a lot. Was famous for it. Made a shitload of money. But that was fuck-all compared to what Emory had done, and for part of it, it seemed, alone. And she was worried I’d not be interested in her? The opposite in fact. My interest in her only escalated. The question was, when would she realize I was just The Green Machine, a fuck-up from the city and decide to walk away?
I opened the door to the car for her, admiring her long tanned legs as she slid into the seat. Once the engine was on, I rolled down the windows. “Might be better with a little fresh air so I don’t scare you off. I’m pretty ripe.” I picked a blade of grass off my dirty shirt and tossed it out the window.
She looked me up and down in a way that had me shifting in my seat. It wasn’t blatant, but she’d scoped me out and I couldn’t tell if her cheeks were pink from being caught at it or from the heat of the car. “Rugby seems like an interesting sport.”
“Never seen a game before?” I looked over my shoulder and pulled out into traffic.
“No. I’m an expert on soccer, basketball and lacrosse. Rowing, too.”
“Your son?”
