What a Girl Wants

“Do you think he knows?”

“I figure you’re safe there. He’s completely oblivious. Is he really still pining over Emily?”

“Unfortunately.” How was she supposed to make a play for a man who refused to get over his ex? “I swear, he’s making himself miserable on purpose. He still listens to her CDs in his Jeep, even though he hates country music and always complained about having to listen to it before. There are photos of them everywhere in his place....” She shook her head. It annoyed her that he didn’t seem to be making an effort to move on.

Victoria frowned. “I guess I don’t get it. Granted, I didn’t know Emily as well as the rest of you, but in the two months that I saw them together, they were always fighting. What exactly is he holding on to?”

“The past. The way they were in the beginning. The truth is, they’d been growing apart for years, and then once Emily met Greg Harrison from Play Hard Sports, that was it. Anyway, you can understand why I’m not about to put myself out there, especially since he’s always thought of me as one of the guys.” She hated that saying. So she liked to work on cars and enjoyed sporting events and beer? She was still a woman. A woman who was much better for him than Emily had ever been.

“I guess you’ll just have to open his eyes,” Victoria said.

“How?” If the bride-to-be had any suggestions, she was more than willing to try them. After over a decade of believing that the man she loved was off-limits, she’d be willing to make a play for him if she thought she actually had a chance.

“Sorry, that’s where you may have to talk to Luke. He was the one to open my eyes to the possibility of love...but I remember it had something to do with a mistletoe kiss.” She smiled, obviously lost in the memory of it.

“Well, it’s August, Victoria, and unless you know where I can find some mistletoe, I may have to come up with a different plan.”

CHAPTER THREE

“WOW, DID YOU see that takedown defense? That guy is insane.” Mark Adams used the sleeve of his shirt to twist the cap off a beer.

Inside the fire hall, the four men on duty and their friends had dragged every available chair to crowd around the thirty-six-inch television to watch the Saturday-night ultimate-fighter fight. Eight men and Bailey. Cold leftover pizza and wings from Luke’s party the night before sat on the table, and once again, Bailey was annoyed that she’d missed the celebration. At least here with the guys she wouldn’t have been forced to admit her feelings about Ethan. Not admitting to them had made them easier to ignore.

“There’s no way that takedown defense should have worked.” Sitting on the couch, Ethan extended his long legs out in front of him and raised his arms above his head.

Bailey tore her eyes away as his shirt rose, exposing his abs. She could blame it on the women the night before, but in recent months, she’d been finding it increasingly hard to conceal her long-repressed feelings for him. Without Emily around as a reminder that Ethan was unavailable, every time she looked at him, all she saw were the gold flecks in his chocolate eyes or the deep dimple in his chin or the six-pack under his shirt. Those things hadn’t escaped her notice before, but now it was near impossible to push the feelings of attraction away whenever she looked at him. And after watching him put out that car fire the day before...

She forced her gaze back to the television. “It totally works,” she argued, watching the slow-motion replay at the end of the fourth five-minute round of the champion match for the light heavyweight title.

“Prove it,” Ethan said, jumping up and turning to her in challenge.

“I think Sanchez just did,” Bailey scoffed, leaning around him to see the television screen. She took a sip of her diet soda, fighting to calm her raging pulse. Any other time, dropping him on his butt in front of the guys would be fun, but now the idea of physical contact made her heart race.

“I think he just got lucky.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah, come on, bring it on.” He danced sideways from one foot to the other.

The other men encouraged her.

“Come on, Bailey. Show him how it’s done,” Jim said, taking his wallet from his back pocket. He pulled out several bills and turned to the other men. “You guys want to place bets? My money’s on Bailey.”

Bailey stood as the men placed their twenties in a pile on the coffee table. Eyeing the stack as it grew, she reached into the pocket of her jean shorts. “My money’s on me, too,” she said, tossing two ten-dollar bills onto the pile, then she rolled the sleeves of her favorite UFC shirt.

“You really think I can’t take you down?” Ethan’s eyes shone with amusement.

“You do remember that both of my brothers train mixed martial arts, right? Aren’t you afraid I may have picked up a skill or two?”

“You may have me on skill, but I am a little bigger,” Ethan said, moving the coffee table to the side to make room for his attack. “Ready?”

“Let’s go.” Bailey got into defensive position as he approached.

Grabbing both of her arms, Ethan moved in closer. Bending quickly, he grabbed for her left leg.

Ah, a single-leg takedown. How many times had Brandon taught her to defend that one?

As his hand wrapped around the back of her knee, Bailey rotated her hips to the left, quickly switching position until she was now behind Ethan in a mount position. Freeing her leg, she straightened, forcing him off-balance, taking control.

The others whooped and hollered.

Removing her hand from his shoulder, Ethan turned to face her, towering over her, head down, nodding slowly. “Not bad,” he said, but in one swift motion he swooped her off her feet, slowly dropping her toward the floor.

Caught off guard, Bailey clutched at his shirt and stopped just inches from the concrete floor. Ethan hovered above her, a firm grip on her arms, holding her in place. Staring up into his eyes, she saw the amused look on his handsome face and felt her pulse quicken and her cheeks flame. Pushing him away, she scrambled to her feet and turned to the others. “That doesn’t count—you all saw I had him first.” She pointed to Jim.

“Hey, my money was on you, I’m not arguing,” Jim said with a laugh, handing over her portion of the winnings as the last round of the fight began.

Reclaiming her place on the sofa next to Ethan, she struggled to calm the pounding in her chest. It was just Ethan. So what if he was hot, fun, exciting...still brooding over his ex?

The sound of the guys cheering interrupted her thoughts. The fight had ended and the current champion had his arms raised in the air. His opponent was out cold on the mat inside the octagon. Crap, she’d missed the knockout.

“Did you see that?” Ethan exclaimed, turning to face her.

She forced enthusiasm into the lie. “Yeah, amazing.” So were his dark eyes, full mouth, solid chest.... She took a breath and stood, needing to put some distance between them. Opening the bar fridge, she took out a bottle of water and gulped its contents, aware of those mesmerizing eyes on her. She was in trouble; there was no more denying it. She was in love with Ethan, and without Emily standing in the way, there was nothing stopping her from going after what she’d always wanted.

* * *

ETHAN STOOD AND stretched. “Okay, guys, I think that’s it for me. Thank you for stealing my money. Good night.” He checked his watch. A little past one o’clock. Everyone else had taken off after the fights, but he’d stayed to play cards with his coworkers on duty that evening. He was spending a lot of his free time at the fire hall these days, which only reminded him how much time he’d devoted to his relationship with Emily. His shifts at the fire hall and coaching his nephew’s soccer and hockey teams just weren’t enough to keep him occupied. The days weren’t the challenge; it was the lonely nights.

He grabbed his wallet and keys from the table and waved as he left the hall. Taking the steps two at a time, he jogged upstairs to his loft-style bachelor suite. It had been a long-standing tradition in Brookhollow for the captain of the fire team to live in the apartment if he or she was single. While it essentially meant he was always on call, he loved his nine hundred square feet and the fact he was only seconds away if he was needed in an emergency.

Inside, he kicked off his shoes and headed straight for his upstairs bedroom. He was exhausted after the late night and early morning. He just hoped that his inability to keep his eyes open would mean a good night’s sleep for a change. In the six months since Emily had left, sleep had constantly eluded him. He wished that for just one night, the last thought he had wouldn’t be of her. Removing his shirt, he tossed it into the corner laundry basket as his cell phone rang on the bedside table.

Oh, come on, it was almost one-thirty in the morning. She couldn’t possibly expect him to answer. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his forehead. What was he supposed to do? He reached for the phone just as the emergency alarm sounded downstairs. Dropping the ringing phone onto his bed, Ethan bounded back down the stairs and out the front door of the apartment without even stopping for his shoes.

Inside the fire hall, the men had rushed to the duty racks. Derek’s face paled as he listened to the call from dispatch. “Yeah, okay. Yeah, two units are on it.” He motioned for the other men to suit up.

Ethan grabbed the report as it came over the machine. The familiar address in bold, block letters on top of the emergency reporting page caught his attention. Doug’s Motors. Grabbing the report, he ran toward the duty racks and grabbed his boots.

Derek approached and grabbed the report. “What are you doing? You’re off duty.”

“It’s the shop, man. I’m coming.” Ethan slid his jacket over his bare shoulders and grabbed his gear.

Derek followed behind him toward the unit. “I think you’re a little too close to this one....”

Jim jumped into the passenger seat of the first response vehicle. “He’s right, Ethan, you’re out. Your emotions are running too high right now.”

Ethan ignored him and jumped into the driver’s seat of the truck. “Any fire in Brookhollow would be close for any of us. Now let’s go.”