Fighter

Chapter Two

I sat on the couch with six bags of ice all around my ankle. I only needed one, but nope, my brothers thought it was hilarious to make the pile as high as it could be. Dylan wanted to see if he could get it all the way to the ceiling, but Dean yelled at him for using too many ice packs. However, when I tried removing them, they just laughed and brought them back. I’d managed to wedge a blanket between some of the ice packs so there was only one actually on my ankle. I used the other ice packs to hide the blanket, so it was a win-win. My brothers kept laughing at me, my leg stuck under a house of ice bags, but I was secretly laughing at them.

Dumb shits.

It was either this or be harassed because I went into the field without a radio. Really. I knew better. The only one who was actually angry at me was Dean, but he was pissed because I hadn’t used my feminine wiles on Jaxon. But hello? It’s Jaxon. He’s not exactly dumb—not like my brothers.

That evening around nine, someone shouted, and four of my brothers sprinted past the door to the back of the house. When I heard the office door slam shut and car doors open, I pushed myself upright.

Dylan sprinted past, or tried to. He held a coffee cup, so he could only jog or it would spill.

“Hey!” I yelled.

He jerked, and the coffee spilled on his arm. He turned to me with a scowl. “What the eff, Dale? I have coffee here.”

“I have a question here.”

He growled at me and looked around. When evidently he didn’t see what he wanted, he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe off some of the coffee. “Yeah? What do you want? You got me while I clean up. Then I’m out of here.”

“Where’s everyone going?”

“Oh.” The growl left him, and he started laughing. “You were had, little sister.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“The Boxing Day fight. Your boy lied to you.”

“He’s not my boy, and how do you know?” I wasn’t surprised to hear Jaxon had lied. That was another factor in our breakup.

“We got a tip. He’s fighting tonight, not on Boxing Day—although he could be fighting then too. But yeah.” He finished cleaning up the coffee and frowned at his flannel shirt. Putting his coffee cup on the counter, he decided the shirt had to go. He tossed it on a chair and pulled off his white tee shirt, which had absorbed most of the coffee.

“Oh my,” came a voice from the doorway.

There, holding onto the doorframe with her mouth formed in an O and her eyes traveling slowly down my brother’s body, was my best friend. While I had straight, dark brown hair, Haley had blond curly hair. Almond eyes, tiny little lips, freckles sprinkled over her complexion—she was cute and gorgeous all at once. She had a small frame, boobs she wished were bigger, and slender hips, and she wasn’t the only one drooling. Dylan’s eyes were glued to her. No. Correction: they were glued to her rack.

I motioned to her. “Haley.”

She didn’t answer. She completed her first scan, arriving at his feet, and started back up.

“Haley.”

She held a hand up. “Hold on. Girl’s working here.”

Realizing he was a fine specimen, my brother moved as if he were in slow motion. He started to reach for his flannel shirt, flexing his arm muscles, then turned his arm so his shoulder muscle bulged. The pectorals were next, and last, as he grabbed his shirt, he made sure to suck in his breath and twist to the side so his abdominal muscles were as cut as possible.

It could’ve been a scene out of a sitcom, as Haley wasn’t even trying to hide her reaction. She held a latte in her hand, and while she drank in the sight of my brother, her hand lifted the lid. She let it fall to the floor as she dipped her fingers into the cup, then wiped them at the corner of her mouth.

She was foaming. I got it.

A second later, she glanced at me, biting down on her lip and trying to hold back her laughter. She pointed to herself. “Get it?”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s my brother. You’re disgusting.”

Dylan realized his Magic Mike moment was over and chuckled, buttoning up his flannel shirt at a faster pace. He gestured to the cup she was holding. “What’s that?”

“A latte.”

He narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together. He started for her, but she held it back and circled the room to me. “It’s for your sister.”

As she gave it me, I beamed. “Finally. The best friend has arrived.”

She rolled her eyes, making a tsking sound, and perched at the side of the couch. Then she studied the mound of ice packs. “Uh, is that good for you?”

Dylan barked out a laugh, slapping his leg. “That’s what she gets for not taking a radio out into the field.”

Haley frowned at him. “What? She gets ice-packed to death?”

He stopped laughing. “What?”

“They said Jaxon is fighting tonight,” I told Haley. “Do you know where?”

She looked back at me with an incredulous look.