"Mason, please." Her words are rushed and panicked. "I can walk, just . . . trust me. You need to put me down."

"No f.u.c.king way." I carry her back toward the curtain only to be met by Santos, who's grinning and cracking his knuckles.

He tilts his head. "Hands off her."

"Okay, never mind." Trix's arms tighten around my neck. "Don't put me down. Do not put me down."

She's safe backstage and away from prying eyes. "It's okay." I kiss the top of her head.

"No, Mason. Don't." Her hold gets tight, but gravity wins, and her legs drop to the floor. "Oh s.h.i.t. You shouldn't have done that."

Her mumbled words are the last thing I hear before Santos hauls back and knocks me in the jaw.

Pain splinters through my face, and I brace my weight on my knees. "Motherf.u.c.k!"

"Santos! You're such a bully!" Trix drops down to her knees to see my face, concern pinching her pretty forehead. "Oh my G.o.d, are you okay?" She grimaces and sucks air through her teeth. "I was trying to warn you."

"Dammit to f.u.c.k, that hurt." I rub my jaw and stand up to see a very satisfied Santos.

"Don't look at me." He shrugs. "House rules, man."

Trix pops her hands on her hips, glaring. "Great. And now they're going to ban you!" She throws her arms out to her sides, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bouncing with the force of it, totally unaware that she's practically bare-a.s.s naked. "What were you thinking?"

I run a hand through my hair and breathe through the letdown of adrenaline. G.o.d, I stormed up on that stage like a d.a.m.n Neanderthal. "I don't . . . I'm sorry."

She steps in close and peers up at me, her violet eyes searching mine. She's so tiny now; barefoot, she only comes up to my chest. "You can't do that. I could lose my job."

The corner of my mouth lifts as I try to fight off the joy at the prospect of her no longer stripping. I rub the back of my neck and shrug. "Would that be so bad?"

She thwacks me in the stomach. "Stop it!"

"Put a shirt on. And some pants and . . . maybe I'll think about it."

Her eyes widen, but a contagious grin curls her lips.

"Come on, man." Santos throws a big meaty thumb over his shoulder. "I gotta escort you out."

"Santos, can you give us a second?" Trix turns her pleading eyes toward him, and his expression softens. "Pleeeaaase?" She turns out her lower lip, and the guy is a goner. What guy wouldn't be?

"Fine. Five minutes, Trix." He points a finger at me then two fingers at his own eyes. "I'm watching you."

"Creepy."

Trix grabs my hand and pulls me deeper backstage into a dark corner. It's hard to focus on anything other than her perfect naked body.

"Here." I reach behind me and pull my T-shirt over my head, leaving me in my undershirt. Shaking it out, I put it over her and smile as her glaring face pops through the neck hole.

"Really?" She slides her arms in but shakes her head.

"Yes." I cross my arms over my chest, locking my hands beneath my biceps. "Unless you want me to throw you up against this wall and do dirty things to that sweet little body, you need to cover up."

Her breath hitches, and I smile inwardly at how affected she is by the simplest things I say. My fingers itch to run through her hair, to pull her to me and taste those lips that look as if they're dipped in candy. I want to pick her up, have her wrap her legs around my waist and beg me to take her away from all this.

"Mason, tomorrow night I think we need to talk." She turns her head to see Santos standing off to the side, giving us s.p.a.ce, but not nearly enough.

Talk. Great, this is where she tells me she'd rather pull out all her own toenails than date a guy like me.

"Trix, hurry it up!"

"Hold on!" she yells at Santos and turns back to me. "Tomorrow at seven, right?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

"Okay, here . . ." She grips the hem of my shirt and starts to take it off.

I still her hand, and the heat and softness of her skin make me groan. "No, keep it." I lean in and place a long, lingering kiss on her forehead, staying away from her lips because if I allow myself that I'll never stop there. "Tonight, watching you dance?" I press my forehead to hers. "You took my breath away."

And with that, I move toward the bouncer, grinning like an idiot. Yeah, I might be walking away, leaving her here to get naked for men for the remainder of her shift, but right now she's wearing my shirt, and that screams victory. Even if only a minor one.

Fourteen.

Mason Not much could make this day any sweeter. After getting home last night and texting Drake that I ran his little-b.i.t.c.h errand, I pushed all thoughts of my brother's problems aside and thought about Trix.

After Santos escorted me out and explained that I'd usually be blackballed from ever returning but that Trix would have his b.a.l.l.s if he refused me, I felt like an Olympic champion.

I lay in bed all night, thinking about the talk we're going to have on our date. I'm sure she'll toss out a million reasons why she can't date me, but she's insane if she thinks I'll agree to any of them. There's not an athlete in the world that is as compet.i.tive as a fighter, and I'll be dipped in dog s.h.i.t before I'll give her up.

I'll have to convince her to quit her job, which will be the hardest part. Hopefully, I can convince her I'm worth the risk rather than having to live through the crushing jealousy of her exploiting her body-a body I'm determined to have as mine-for money.

"Come on, Baywatch, you still have to spar." Rex knocks me in the back of the head, and I lie back down on the weight bench, bracing myself to lift the bar. "f.u.c.king, Peter Pan." He's sweating and grinning down at me.

"Since when did I get the stupid f.u.c.king nickname award?" I push up the weight and grind through a few reps.

"You earned it," he says as if it's an easy connection to make.

I growl through a few more reps before my chest starts to burn and my arms quake. "s.h.i.t." I slam the bar back on the rack. "You trying to kill me?"

"Not with three hundred. Stop being a p.u.s.s.y."

The door to the weight room swings open. "Where's my welcome home party, motherf.u.c.kers?"

"Holy s.h.i.t." I sit up and stare as Blake struts into the room, now with a black band around his ring finger, and an obnoxious grin on his face. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing here?"

He shrugs then moves in for a fist b.u.mp. "Cut the honeymoon short. Jack got sick and Layla lost her s.h.i.t, thinking he had some island fever or some c.r.a.p. Came home to find out the kid had a cold. Now he's healthy as a horse."

"That's too bad." I run a towel over my sweaty forehead. "I know how much chicks dig honeymoons."

He flashes a crooked grin. "Every day is a honeymoon in my bed, Baywatch. My woman isn't missin' s.h.i.t, trust me."

Rex slaps Blake on the back. "You got here just in time for sparring." He jerks his head to me. "Baywatch is all primed for an a.s.s-kicking. Need to knock his little-b.i.t.c.h a.s.s outta the clouds."

"Is that right?" Blake cracks his knuckles and rolls his head on his shoulders. "f.u.c.kin' A, I'm ready."

Great.

"f.u.c.k, old man." I dodge Blake's left hook. "Fatherhood made you lazy." He lunges for my legs. I jump back, just out of reach.

"Lazy's still kickin' your a.s.s." He steps in and lands a body shot.

"Baywatch, concentrate!" Rex's command is laced with irritation.

I swing my left and Blake spins away. s.h.i.t.

My muscles are loose with fatigue. I move around Blake and focus on his hands, waiting for my opening. f.u.c.k, this guy is a d.a.m.n machine. Never off his game.

"You looking to fight me or f.u.c.k me, Baywatch? Stop flirting and take a shot." His taunts roll off my back as I zone in, ready to put forth all my energy to end this little dance we've been doing.

If he'd just drop his guard . . .

I swing. He ducks and lunges for my legs. I jump back. Not fast enough. His arms lock around my thigh. s.h.i.t! I'm airborne. My back hits the mat with a whoosh of air escaping my lungs.

"f.u.c.k!" I pound the mat with my fists.

He shoves my jaw in a mock punch. "Nah . . . but thanks for the offer."

a.s.shole.

He pushes to stand, and Rex shows up at his side, glaring down at me with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What?" I avoid their eyes, knowing the lecture that's sure to pour from their stupid mouths.

"Where's your head at, Baywatch?" Rex digs the ball of his foot into my ribs. "And I swear to s.h.i.t if you say it's in the fight I'll sweep your leg Karate-Kid style." He holds out his arms and lifts a knee as if he's Danielson, and Blake chokes on a laugh.

I roll away from them and hop to my feet. "I don't know what you want from me. I'm training my a.s.s off."

Rex's teasing expression sobers. "No . . . you were on fire a few weeks ago. Now you're, I don't know"-he taps his temple with two fingers-"not here."

Blake's squinting at me or, wait . . . just over my shoulder. I turn to see a grinning Layla headed toward us with a little bundle of baby wrapped in a blanket and cradled in her arms.

He grips the chain link. "Mouse, what the h.e.l.l are you doing here?" A proud smile splits his face as he takes in his woman and their son.

Layla tilts her head and presses a kiss to his lips through the cage. "I wanted to bring Jack by so he could watch Daddy work." She smiles down at her baby, and I don't miss Blake's hands flex on the metal link like he's itching to touch his kid.

"Yeah? Or were you bored and wanted to come shoot the s.h.i.t with Eve?" He takes two steps back and hops up and over the octagon fence.

She giggles. "That too." Her gaze swings from Blake to Rex and me. "Hey, you guys should meet us out tonight."

"Whoa, what?" Blake plucks Jack from his mother's arms, dwarfing the infant with the size of his arms. "Tonight?"

"Yeah, I was talking to Eve, and we thought it would be fun to go out for happy hour tonight. Ya know, get caught up." She shrugs and waits for Rex and me to answer.

"Oh, um . . . I can't tonight."

Blake glares at me. "Why not?"

"I uh . . ." I shift on my feet and avoid their eyes. "It's, um, I have a date."

"Aha . . . so that's where your head's at." Rex knocks me in the back of the skull.

"Ow! f.u.c.king cut that s.h.i.t out!" I rub the back of my head.

Rex shakes his head and then answers Layla. "Gia and I will be there. What time?"

Layla grins. "Six o'clock at The Bacon Bar." She swings her gaze to Mason. "Bring her with, Mase, just for one drink."

"Oh, sure. Yeah, okay." I can't think of a single reason to say no other than to tell the truth, which is that I don't want to share Trix with anyone tonight, but I suppose a drink before dinner would be alright.

After all, if she agrees to date me exclusively, she'll have to meet my UFL family. She seemed to get along great with Eve, and she's already tight with Gia. What could possibly go wrong?

Fifteen.

Trix I'm sitting at my kitchen table, pounding a furious beat with the heel of my shoe. My calf burns, but nerves insist I continue. I check my phone for the time, wondering what the surprise detour Mason told me about earlier could possibly be.

The text came in shortly after I woke up. I'm a.s.suming he got my number from Gia. I click through and open the message again.

Surprise detour. Be ready at six. :) Mason An explosion of flutters takes flight in my belly. "It's only a date! Teenagers do it for crying out loud." Jeez. I push up to pace the small kitchen, smoothing the front of my white dress.

I searched for my most conservative outfit for my first date, and although this dress hangs loosely off my shoulder and around my body, it's shorter than I'd have liked.

s.h.i.t. Maybe I should've gone shopping for something else. The rumble of a truck engine sounds and my heart beats wildly. I rush to the spare bathroom to check my face one more time before slowing my pace to answer the door.

He knocks twice, and I take a deep breath to fake calm.

I swing open the door and lock my knees to keep from throwing myself into his arms. Wow, he's beautiful. "Hey."

He doesn't greet me, and rather than his usual easy smile, his expression is intense. He scrutinizes every inch of me, making me squirm as I feel the sweep of his gaze against my skin.