Ice Cold (An MMA Stepbrother Romance)

“I can’t believe you’re going to work for your new stepfather,” Stacey said. “All of your old ones were such pricks.”


“I know, right?” I felt good. I was with my best friend in my favorite city in the world. “I just wish I knew more about who this guy is and what he does. I mean, I know he’s an athlete, and he must do alright if he can afford to work with Cal’s firm.”

“His daddy is one of the partners,” Stacey reminded me.

“Still, if he was small-time, there wouldn’t be any need to have someone manage his money.”

“So what’s his name?” Stacey asked. She pulled out her phone. “We’ll google him.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “This has all happened so fast. I barely had any time to spend with my mom. She’s completely gaga over Cal and wants to spend every waking minute with him. Cal gave me an address and just told me to show up at 9 am tomorrow morning and tell them I was with the firm. They’d show me around from there.”

“What’s the address to?”

“Some gym over on the north side,” I said. I pulled out my phone and showed it to her. “I guess it’s pretty popular with celebrity athletes when they are in town.”

“Speaking of celebrity athletes, have you heard from Ice?” Stacey asked with a lewd wink.

I regretted ever telling her about my momentary lapse of judgment. “No, and I didn’t expect to. It was a classic wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of deal. I knew what it was when I went into it.”

Stacey swooned as she rocked back against her couch. “God, you are so lucky! I can’t believe you fucked him! I still can’t believe you did it. And from you told me, you were a total slut about it.” She clapped her hands together. “I’m so proud of you.”

I rubbed my face as I tried to block out the image of Shayne’s ass reflected in the mirror as he pounded into me. If it hadn’t been so damn hot, I’d die from embarrassment. “It was a mutually beneficial evening that ended on a high note. Then I left.”

“But he asked for your number, and you wouldn’t give it to him.”

“He was just being polite. Isn’t that what guys are supposed to do? Ask for your number so they can never call you again?”

“Some guys call,” Stacey sniffed.

I chuckled. “This is one guy who wasn’t going to be calling. We have nothing in common. He’s a fighter. I’m an academic.”

Stacey mocked yawned into her hand. “And such a bore. Geez, I’m falling asleep just sitting here just talking you.” I sent a pillow sailing through the air at her head. She easily blocked it as she laughed. “It’s time for the new you, friend. Put away the books and the librarian glasses. Get some new clothes and own your future. You make a good impression on your new stepbrother, and you’ll have your ticket to the big time.”

“Getting a full-time job with Cal’s firm hardly qualifies as big time,” I said. I looked at my cuticles. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a manicure. It wouldn’t hurt to get cleaned up a little bit better before my new job started. I stood up and marched over to the door. “Get up. We’re going out.”



At 9 am the next morning, I presented myself outside the door of the gym as directed. I was surprised to see that there was a hulking, scary looking dude standing outside surveying the street. I knew that he saw me coming a mile away, but he barely reacted as I reached him and stood expectantly in front of him.

Stacey and I had spent hours arguing about what I was going to wear. I thought a pair of jeans and a nice sweater would be fine, especially since I was meeting my new client in a gym. Stacey insisted that I needed to look the part. “No one in some fancy law firm is going to go to work wearing jeans and a sweater,” she said. “If you want to be taken seriously, you have to dress seriously.”

Which is why I stood there in a pair of modest kitten heels that were killing my feet, paired with a beige pencil skirt and silken white blouse. Simple. Conservative. But yet still utterly fuckable according to Stacey, although that was far from the impression I wanted to convey.

“You have killer legs and perky boobs. Play it up,” she had said at least half a dozen times at the store.

I had a text from Cal that morning about looking over his son’s financial statements for last quarter as soon as I logged in. I had my laptop with me and planned to download the report from the server as soon as I was able to find a wifi connection. Other than that, I had a calculator and a legal pad. I wasn’t sure what else I’d need until I had a chance to sit down and talk with my soon-to-be stepbrother.

“I’m Alexa Carroll from Nueman & York?” I said. I cursed myself that I let the statement sound like a question. I wanted to give the impression that I did this kind of thing all the time.