“They call him Chaos for a reason.” Brand frowned. “I’ve seen him fight and he’s unpredictable.”
Yeah, so his first opponent was supposed to be a stud. Big deal. Armie shrugged to show he didn’t really care. Not that long ago the SBC, the most widely known MMA organization, had run him to ground and all but coerced him into signing on with them. Cannon had helped with that, pushing him to take the next step since he’d already demolished all the records in local venues.
It was a big step, too, something all the other guys had worked for. The SBC paid a lot more and offered incredible name recognition. Their fighters traveled the world to compete.
But Armie liked being low-key; it was a hell of a lot safer for multiple reasons. If it wasn’t for Cannon—
“He’ll do fine against Carter,” Cannon said. “And don’t worry about his training. Armie motivates differently, that’s all.”
Always, no matter what, Cannon had his back. As the only other person to know why he’d avoided fame and fortune, Cannon understood. They weren’t related, but they were brothers all the same.
Which was the second biggest reason he couldn’t, shouldn’t, crave Merissa the way he did. Cannon protected those he loved.
And he loved his sister a lot.
“It’s getting late,” Cannon added. “Don’t want to keep Yvette waiting.”
Glad for the switch in topic, Armie pulled out his phone. “Guess I better make some calls and let the ladies know I won’t make it after all.”
Stack looked at Denver. “If it was anyone but Armie, I’d think he was making it up.”
“Lonely,” Denver confirmed.
Armie walked away knowing they were right.
* * *
MERISSA COLTER LEANED against the counter in the kitchen, sipping a wine cooler and watching as Yvette prepared a platter of lunch meat and cheeses. “You sure you don’t want my help?”
Yvette flashed her a happy smile. “There’s not that much to do. Besides, you’re dressed so cute tonight, I don’t want to risk you getting messy.”
Looking down at herself, Merissa said, “I just felt like a change, you know?”
Smile sly, Yvette nodded, then wiped her hands on the apron she wore. “It’s nice for a lady to switch things up every now and then. And with your long legs, that’s a good look for you.”
“Vanity shopped with me.” Vanity was Yvette’s best friend, now Stack’s wife, and a regular fashion plate without trying. “She insisted on the boots.”
“With heels,” Yvette enthused, since Merissa almost always wore flats. “I approve.”
“It’s just that I’m so blasted tall—”
“Like a model.”
“I don’t know.” More often than not, she felt gangly, not model-worthy.
“Trust me,” Yvette said as she laid out the last pieces of cheese on her lunch-meat display. “You’d be terrific. Everything you wear looks amazing on you. You’re slim but still shapely.”
Merissa choked over that. “I’m barely in a B cup. Nothing shapely about that.”
From the kitchen doorway came a sound and Merissa looked up to see Brand, Miles and Leese all standing there grinning at her. They were all three gorgeous, all three buff, all three talented.
But none of them were Armie.
How she felt about them, and vice versa, wasn’t anything close to romantic. But still, heat rushed into her face. After all, they’d just heard her discussing her boobs.
Looking around for a weapon, Merissa grabbed up the dishcloth and threw it at them. “Pretend you didn’t hear that!”
“Too late.” Leese caught the towel, then carried it over to the sink. “Whatever you think you’re missing, let me tell you, it’s all there.” He looked back at the other two fighters. “Am I right?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“Definitely.”
Humiliated, but appreciating their input, Merissa laughed. “You guys are my friends. You have to say that.”
Crossing his heart, Leese insisted, “Honest truth.” He snagged three beers from the fridge, then tossed one to Brand and the other to Miles.
With his sinfully dark gaze moving over her, Brand stepped farther into the kitchen. “And that getup?” He cocked a brow. “Smokin’ hot.”
She suddenly felt very conspicuous in her V-necked tunic sweater, tights and ankle boots.
“There, you see?” Yvette said. “You’re gorgeous. Who cares if you’re not top-heavy?”
She cared.
“It’s the whole package,” Miles insisted. He and Brand both had dark hair, but Miles’s eyes were bright green, his smile crooked, and he flirted with every woman alive. “Trust me.”
Leese ran a hand over his inky-black hair, his pale blue eyes playful. “I’m an ass man, myself.” He winked, letting her know she fit the bill.
It was a wonder she could think at all when surrounded by so many certified hunks. Maybe if she felt about one of them the way she felt about Armie, her life would be easier.
Yvette started forcing them all from the kitchen. “Stop embarrassing her.”
“We were reassuring her,” Brand protested.
The guys dragged their feet, making Yvette work at getting them clear of the door. After they’d gone, Yvette’s smile lingered and her eyes were warm with happiness.
Merissa knew something was going on. Both her brother and Yvette glowed. Setting aside her wine cooler, she asked, “So, what’s up with you and Cannon?”
Humming, Yvette got down a bowl and filled it with chips. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Uh-huh.”
Just then Armie stuck his head in the kitchen. “Hey, Yvette...” His voice trailed off when he spotted Merissa.
Expression arrested, Armie’s attention crawled down her body, taking in every detail. His chest expanded on a slow breath. Merissa didn’t move. Seeing him had an entirely different effect on her than she’d had with the other men. Just about everyone had commented on her new duds. But this was Armie. She didn’t want his opinion to matter—yet it did.
Belatedly, his gaze came back up to her face and locked with hers. His jaw flexed. His dark eyes consumed her and just when she thought she’d pass out from lack of oxygen, he started to turn away.
Clearly Armie hadn’t expected to see her and hadn’t wanted to see her. It hurt.
Yvette stopped him. “Armie! Come on in. What would you like to drink?”
With his back to them, he stalled. Muscles shifted in his shoulders, his upper arms—then he very deliberately relaxed and faced them again. The heat in his eyes had cooled to indifference and his cocky smile almost made her believe she’d imagined the tension. “I’m good.”
Merissa snorted. She didn’t mean to. It just came out.
His dark sinner’s gaze zeroed back in on her. “Something funny, Stretch?”
God, how she hated that nickname! It emphasized her height, but worse, it proved that Armie didn’t see her as a desirable woman. “You? Being good?” She snorted again. “I hope I’m not standing close when lightning strikes you.”
Stepping the rest of the way into the kitchen, he said to Yvette, “I’ll take a beer.”