Naked Choke (A Stepbrother MMA Romance) (3 page)

Chapter Four

Just five days later, my mom and I are driving over to join
the Riggins household. The subletters my mom found are renting our apartment
furnished, so we have just our suitcases of clothes and toiletries. We've lived
in our apartment for five years, and it's strange to think of someone besides
us sitting on the worn gray couch in the living room or eating off the small
wooden table by the window in the kitchen.

My mom's driven the route to Duke's many times. He never
stayed over at our apartment, but my mom would stay at his house. Our new
house. Apparently it's a lot bigger than our place. I used to wonder why they
wouldn't just stay at our apartment sometimes, and then I realized that maybe
they were worried about the noise. And just thinking about my mom having sex
was enough to make me grateful for some nights to myself.

"You have your own room, of course," my mom tells
me. I can't help but smile at the happiness in her voice. For a while after my
dad left, I thought I'd never hear her like this again.

"Uh-huh," I murmur distractedly, wondering how far
my bedroom will be from Logan's and Austen's. I'm not sure if I'm hoping for
very far, or very, very close.

"It's a big house, and has nice bones to it, but
definitely needs a woman's touch."

"Yeah?" I ask with a smile. My mom's definitely a
girly-girl, so I can only imagine what she has in store for the place.

"There's a lot of tan and black, as though that's a
color scheme," my mom says rolling her eyes. "Not a painting to be
found, except for some posters in the boys' rooms."

"Consider me warned," I reply. We're driving
through a nice, middle-class neighborhood, and my mom puts on her blinker and
turns into the driveway of one of the biggest lots on the block. Before me sits
a simple, two-story red brick house, with a brown slatted roof and red
shutters. There's a large tree in the front yard, and a couple of scrubby
bushes by the front door, though large flower beds are blooming on the lawns of
the houses on either side.

My mom stops and turns off the car in the driveway, then
nods at the garage. "He's giving me a garage door opener today. I've
already got the keys, and we're having a set made for you, too." We grab a
couple of our bags from the back seat and head to the front door together. My
mom unlocks the door and pushes it open. "Duke wanted to be here to
welcome us, but they're all at the gym training. He says they have to keep a
strict schedule if they want to be the best."

I nod, grateful for a chance to get settled without the
brothers around. I look around the spacious foyer. There's a staircase to my
right leading to the second floor, and a dining room off one side and a living
room on the other. My mom was right; there's definitely not much in the way of
decorating, so it doesn't feel homey, but it is a nice house.

As if she can read my mind, my mom wraps an arm around my
shoulders. "It'll feel like home in no time. A few throw pillows and it'll
be a whole new place. Come on, I'll show you your room first." I follow
her up the carpeted steps to the second floor hallway. She points to one end
and says, "That's the master bedroom." We turn the other direction
and she stops at the nearest door. "This is your bedroom. Your bathroom is
right here," she adds, pointing to the next door down, "And Logan's
room is the one on the end."

Oh boy. Unless Logan has his own bathroom in his room, which
I doubt, it looks like I'll be sharing a bathroom with at least one of the
brothers.

"Which one is Austen's room?" I ask as casually as
possible.

"He lives in the basement. He's got his own separate
entrance down there and everything," she responds, and I nod, considering.
Man, I'd be jealous if I were Logan.

"What's their age difference?"

"Austen's twenty-two and Logan's twenty-one. Irish
twins, I think they call it," she says with a smile, pushing my new
bedroom door open. "They had just been using it as a sort of guest room
slash storage room," she explains as I look around at the twin bed,
dresser, and chair in the corner. "But you choose a paint color and a new duvet
and we'll get it looking much better."

"No, no, it's good," I reply with more conviction
than I feel. The guest room for the guest. Seems fitting.

"Want to go grab more stuff?" my mom asks.

"Yep," I chirp with a forced smile. We get the
rest of our bags in two more trips, and start unpacking in our respective
rooms. My clothes just fit in the bureau and small closet, and I run my hand
over the quilt on the bed. It smells a little musty, like no one's used it for
a while. I grab my toiletries and head a few steps down the hall and into the
bathroom.

Just as I feared, there are men's products in the shower.
Logan definitely uses this bathroom, too. Well, at least he keeps it clean. I
open the medicine cabinet above the pedestal sink and put away my toothbrush
and face wash, then put my shampoo and conditioner in the corner of the tub. I
sniff the air and smile. What is it about the smell of a man's soap?

Feeling a bit more settled in, and only slightly worried
about Logan's and my bathroom schedules overlapping, I head down the hall to my
mom and Duke's room. She's zipping up her suitcases and pushing them under the
bed when I walk in.

"All unpacked?" she asks. I nod. "Let's make
a grocery store run. They don't have many of the brands we like in the house."

An hour later, we're pulling back into the driveway with the
car packed up again, this time with groceries. The front door opens as we step
out and Duke gives us a wave.

"Oh, good. They're home," my mom says with a giddy
smile. I know she's looking forward to cooking her first family meal for
everyone. I had to pressure her at the grocery store to make up her mind about
what to get because she wanted to please everyone's palate. Duke turns inside,
and a second later he and Austen come out to help us with the bags.

"Hey Caitlyn," Austen greets me with a grin.

"Hey," I reply shyly. If I thought he looked good
in a t-shirt, there's something even sexier about him in a white ribbed tank
and sweatpants. His dark blonde hair is damp with sweat, and his shoulder
muscles still have droplets of sweat on them from the gym. I have to rip my
gaze away to avoid staring.

"Where's Logan?" I hear Duke say quietly to
Austen.

"In his room, I think," Austen replies.

"Hmph," Duke snorts through his nose. The men
stack the grocery bags three deep on each forearm, leaving my mom and me with
just a couple lighter bags to carry in ourselves. We all head into the kitchen
at the back of the house. It looks over the backyard and has a sliding door to
the patio next to a round breakfast table. My mom begins unpacking the food and
takes out the whole chicken she bought.

"Roast chicken OK with everyone?" she asks Duke
and Austen.

"Yeah," Duke says, though there's a slight hesitation
in his voice. I watch him peer inconspicuously into the rest of the bags and
then glance at Austen as my mom puts the chicken in the fridge.

"What?" I say, a little defensively.

"Oh, it's nothing," Duke says, but Austen is
clearly trying to stifle a laugh. A smile spreads across Duke's face as my mom
turns to them in confusion.

"Sorry, it's just…most people are surprised at first by
how much we eat," Austen says.

"I didn't get enough? There's vegetables, too."

"The boys eat about five or six thousand calories per
day, each." Duke tells my mom.

My jaw drops. "How do you find the time?"

"Once you get in the habit, it's not too bad,"
Austen tells me.

"Don't worry, I'll just run to the store and get
another couple chickens," Duke says, reaching for his keys. I feel a
giggle begin in my throat and my mom narrows her eyes at me.

"Sorry, sorry. It just took her so long to decide what
to make," I apologize through my laughter, and my mom finally breaks a
smile.

"OK, fine, lesson learned," she says, rolling her
eyes.

"And don't feel like you have to cook for us, Joanne.
We're used to preparing our own meals," Austen adds as his dad heads for
the garage door next to the fridge. "We have to. Processed foods don't cut
it with our training."

"I just thought for the first night as a family it
would be nice," my mom says. My eyes flick over to Austen to see if he has
a reaction to our being referred to as "family", but his charm
doesn't waver.

"It'll be great," he assures her, then turns to
me. "Did you get a tour of the house, Caitlyn?"

"Most of it. I didn't want to intrude."

"You live here now. It's not intruding. Come on,"
he says with a nod to the hallway leading to the foyer. My mom smiles at me
encouragingly and I follow him out. "We moved here…I guess it was about
ten years ago. My dad had a bigger place and sold it to start the gym." He
stops at the banister. "You all moved in upstairs?" he asks.

"Yeah, I poked around up there a bit."

"Well, come on, I'll show you the basement," he
says with a grin, pushing open the door underneath the stairs and flicking on
the light. Huh. I know what's in the basement. I wonder if this tour offer was
just a chance to get me into his bedroom. I follow his sweat-drenched back into
the finished basement. It's a big space, basically his own private studio, with
a TV and couch at one end and a king-sized bed at the other. There are several
window wells giving the room light, and a door to the outside leading to
another set of steps into the backyard across from me.

I walk a few feet toward the couch and look around nodding.
"So here it is," I say with a small smile.

He grins. "Alright, so I did also want to talk to you
alone," he admits, stepping toward me until I can smell the sweat and heat
coming off him. "Look, I'd still like to take you out. Maybe it's a little
weird, but there's nothing wrong with it."

"What if it goes badly, and then we're stuck seeing
each other every day?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

He leans in close and a wave of adrenaline and anticipation
courses through me.

"I don't think it's going to go badly," he
whispers, and I can feel his warm breath against my lips. Achingly slowly, he
closes the couple inches left between us, and skims his bottom lip over mine
before separating my lips with his. A floating feeling blossoms in my stomach
and then spreads throughout my body.
This man can kiss.

His tongue flicks against mine and I taste the salt on his
upper lip. His hand moves to my waist and—

"Cat? Could you set the table?" my mom calls from
upstairs. I feel Austen's lips curve upward into a grin against mine and he
pulls back.

"See you up there," he murmurs, then turns around,
before pausing and looking back at me. "Maybe we should keep what just
happened between just the two of us… I mean, our parents will know we're
hanging out, but maybe—"

"Maybe they don't have to know everything," I
finish his thought for him. Yeah, my mom definitely does not need to know about
Austen's kissing skills. "Agreed."

He nods, then turns back around and heads for the bathroom. As
he goes, he casually pulls off his sweaty shirt and tosses it onto the bed. I
bite my lip as I see his muscles move across his back, each one sculpted into
high definition.

"Cat?" my mom calls again.

"Coming!" I shout back.
No pun intended
. I hear
the shower turn on as I jog back up the steps, trying to will away the blush
that's spread across my cheeks.

Chapter Five

I watch mesmerized as Austen and Logan wolf down more food
than I could eat in an entire day. Duke eats slightly less, though not by much.

"So are you impressed by my home decorating skills,
Caitlyn?" Duke asks, putting down his fork and taking a sip of beer.

"Oh, um…" I stall, then smile in relief as I
realize he's joking. He has such an outwardly gruff demeanor that it always
takes me by surprise that he actually possesses a sense of humor.

"Yeah, man cave chic, I'd call it," I reply, and
am surprised by the bark of laughter that comes out of Duke's mouth.

"What are your summer plans?" he asks, leaning
back in his chair and crossing his arms over his massive chest. The man still
has a tree trunk of a torso, but he's added more weight in his stomach than I
imagine he carried when he was a boxer. His blue eyes, so similar to Austen's,
consider me thoughtfully above his short beard.

"I'm not sure yet. I'm hoping to find a job and save up
some money before school starts in the fall."

Duke's eyes flick momentarily to my mom's. "Well, if
you're not busy tomorrow, why don't you stop by the gym?"

"Oh, sure, that would be great."

"You can use the sedan in the garage whenever you
want," he tells me. "Keys on the hook by the garage door in the
kitchen. Your new house keys are there, too."

"
Wow
, thank you!" I reply smiling.

"Let me or the boys know if you need anything,
alright?" he adds, and I see my mom's hand move under the table to rub his
thigh affectionately.

"I think I'm set for now, but thank you."

Austen winks at me from across the table and I see Logan
glance between us. Austen quickly brings up something about a fighter who just got
injured and the conversation veers into a discussion of technique that I can't
follow. My mom shrugs at me and rolls her eyes playfully, knowing we're both in
the dark.

After dinner I help clear the table and clean up, and I'm
pleasantly surprised to see Austen and Logan bring their dishes into the
kitchen without any prodding from their father. I'm glad they don't expect me
or my mom to become the de facto housekeeper. My mom eventually leaves to find
Duke, and I look out over the backyard. There's a good distance between the
houses in this neighborhood, and I can see the sky turning a slight pink as the
summer sun sets.

I sigh, feeling out of place, and walk into the foyer. I
consider going down to Austen's room, but his door is closed and I don't want
to bother him. I walk slowly up the stairs, conscious that I don't really have
anywhere to be. I hear giggling and glance toward my mom's closed bedroom door.
The floorboards creak and I snap my head in the other direction to see Logan
watching me from the doorway of the bathroom.

"They never slept at your place, did they?" he
asks, his dark brown eyes impossible to read.

"No. Thin walls," I reply drily. There's another
laugh from the bedroom.

"I don't think they make walls thick enough," he
says over his shoulder as he heads toward his room. I follow him a few steps
and stop as I think about what he said.

"Gross," I moan.

He turns around, and for the first time, I see him smile,
his sensuous lips cracking open happily. But just as quickly as it spread across
his cheeks, I see him cover it. We pause for a moment as an awkward silence
settles between us, me just outside the threshold of his bedroom, and him just
inside. He's in a white, ribbed tank top now, and I can see tattoos snaking out
from under the fabric on his right shoulder. He sees my eyes flick toward them.

"My dad hates them," he murmurs, his dark eyes
flashing, though with anger or humor I can't tell. I steal a look around his
room – the only room in the house I haven't been in yet. I spot a book on his
bed and glance at the title.

"Are you interested in math?" I ask, trying to
find some way inside this man's rather opaque personality.

"What?" he asks with a frown, and I worry I've
misstepped.

"Oh… your book. The title is
Outliers
so I
thought—"

He chuckles, turning toward his bed and picking it up. I
catch a glimpse of green in his dark eyes as he turns back and realize they're
not brown as I previously thought, but hazel. He holds the book out, and I step
forward into his room to take it from him.

"Not about math," he tells me. "It's a book
about what makes successful people successful."

"Oh," I reply dumbly, feeling embarrassed as I run
my fingers over the cover. "And? Is there a secret brew or anything I can
take?"

"Afraid not. Gladwell, the author, he brings up over
and over how success takes time. You have to put in at least ten thousand hours
to be truly successful at something."

"Something tells me you've already calculated how many
hours you've put in at the gym," I reply, thinking of his focused
intensity.

"Good guess. I'd put it at around eight thousand. But
then there's also the matter of opportunity. Without the right opportunities,
you might never reach your full potential," he says, so gravely that I
don't think he's just speaking abstractly. He clears his throat, realizing that
I'm staring at him inquisitively. "You can borrow it, if you want."

"Really? Thanks." I turn for the door, glad to
have something to occupy my night. "Also…I wanted to thank you again, for
helping me out at the bowling alley."

"You don't have to thank me. I just did what anyone
would do."

"But not everyone would," I counter.

He shrugs, then murmurs, "Well, as long as you're
alright."

I pause, and then decide not to embarrass him anymore.
"Door open or closed?" I ask.

"Closed," he answers. "And hey, just so you
know, our parents are conspiring to get you a part time job at the gym. Thought
you might want to know."

"Ah, thought I noticed something off at dinner."

"You going to take it?"

"I guess so, if it’ll make my mom happy."

"Right."

"Well, goodnight," I murmur, shutting the door
behind me. I head back toward my bedroom, feeling intrigued. I can't help but
think there's far more to Logan than meets the eye.