Kicker (DS Fight Club Book 1) (8 page)

“What you lookin’ at, Tiggy?” a voice piped behind Tig. He turned and grinned at Bailey.

“Hey there, Mrs. C., pretty lady.”

Bailey grinned and blushed. “I’m still not used to that. They called my name three times at the doctor’s office before I remembered that
I
was Mrs. Carmichael.”

“Everything okay?” Tig’s brow furrowed.

“Yeah, just a follow-up for some things.” Tig squinted at her, and she grinned. “We’re both good, Tig. Now what’re you looking at?”

Tig laughed. “Come here and I’ll show you.” He pointed at the car that sat idling on the street. “Do you know who that is?”

“Charlotte! She came.”

Hot damn. Ponytail came to the party.

“Charlotte? She work with you at Tara?”

“Yep. She started working with us not terribly long ago. Oh, you might have seen her after the last fight. She came into the party room for a bit.”

Oh, yeah, I saw her all right.
But he played dumb, saying “Oh, yeah. Dark hair, little suit, right?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yep, that’s Charlotte. She hasn’t quite bought into the fact that we’re a little more casual here than where she’s used to working.”

Tig did not say anything but raised his eyebrows in interest.

“Yeah, she’s used to a big accounting firm and being in front of clients. She’s our forensic accountant, so she doesn’t see anyone really. It’s just her and about a million spreadsheets.”

“Forensic accountant? Sounds fancy.” Tig looked at the big imported sedan.
Yep. Fancy
.

Bailey dismissed that thought with a wave of her hand. “Eh, deep down, other than suits and her high heels, Charlotte’s fancy like Em’s fancy.”

“Huh.” Tig did not think Em was especially fancy if you did not count the fact that she usually had glitter somewhere on her. Em, as far as he knew, lived in jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers.

“Bailey and Tig, what are you two up to?”
Speak of the devil.

Tig turned around to face Bailey’s sister-in-law and coworker. “Nothin’ much. We were just spying on the car that’s parked in front of the house.

Em stretched up on her tiptoes. “Oh. That’s Charlotte. How long has she been out there?”

“A good fifteen or twenty minutes.”

Em huffed. “I better go out there and get her before she completely chickens out and drives off. Excuse me.”

Bailey heaved a dramatic sigh. “Charlotte’s in trouble now.”

Tig snickered as he watched Em stalk off. “Go get her, girl.”

“Something exciting over here?” Rory poked his head in between the two of them. “Is that Charlotte?”

“Yep. Em’s gone to round her up.”

“Jaysus. Poor girl,” Rory chuckled. “Tig, your presence is requested at the playscape. Something about flips? I don’t know. . . .”

Tig grinned. “Always happy to oblige.”

He wandered across the yard until he saw that he had the attention of the two little girls, then he trotted a few steps and turned an aerial, making sure he held on to his hat. The little girls cheered, calling, “More, more.”

Not one to disappoint, Tig executed a few more moves before stopping in front of Colin.

“You’re up, big man,” he said with a grin.

“Oh, no,” Colin laughed. “I’m too old for that sh . . . crap.”

Tig wiggled his eyebrows at Colin, daring him. “Come on, C. I know you can do it; I’ve seen it.”

The bigger of the two girls’ eyes grew wide. “
You
can do a cartwheel with
no hands
?”

Colin scoffed at his niece’s disbelief. “Of course.”

And, of course, the two girls immediately started clamoring for a demonstration.

Colin stood up and pointed at Tig. “You are in a mess of trouble, Tig. You’re going to regret this come Monday morning workout.” Tig just grinned at him and wiggled his fingers.

“Watch, girls. See how a master does it.”

Colin ran a few steps, did the aerial, landed, and then promptly slipped and landed on his backside.

“The grass is slick,” he said with a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tig said and immediately launched into his own aerial, landing neatly on his feet, right next to Colin. He held his hands up, wiggling his fingers and goading Colin.

“Oh, man, it is on, Kicker. It. Is. On.”

The two men continued to roll, and flip, and tumble across the lawn while the little girls cheered.

“Okay, now for some serious tumbling.” Tig took off his boots, socks, and hat and went to the far end of the backyard.

And he took off running, doing a tumbling pass that had the girls cheering, Bailey and Rory goggling, and Colin rolling his eyes.

“And
that
is how you tumble,” Tig called from across the yard.

Okay, Charlotte. You can do this. They invited you here. They want you here. Just get out of the car, walk up that driveway, and ring the doorbell. You can do this.

Charlotte sucked in a deep breath.

Oh God, I cannot do this.

She was just getting ready to shift the car into drive when she heard a
tap-tap-tap
on her window and turned to see Em’s sympathetic smile.

Charlotte sheepishly grinned and rolled down the window. “Hi, Em.”

“Where do you think you’re going, Charlotte?”

“Um, inside the house?”

Em grinned. “Nope. We’re going directly into the backyard. Turn off this car and hop out, sugar.”

Charlotte smiled back and turned off the motor but made no move to get out of the car.

Em’s face softened. “It’s just us, the kids, and a few other people. It’s going to be fine. Totally low-key. And
real
low-key, not Rory’s version of low-key.”

Charlotte laughed. Rory was anything but low-key.

“Come on, Charlotte. Come in and have a drink and some dessert at least. If you’re miserable, everybody’ll understand if you leave. I promise.”

Charlotte nodded and got out of the car but stopped at Em’s exclamation.

“What?”

“You look so cute. As usual. I worry that you’ll ruin your outfit, though. We’re kind of rough and tumble around here lately.”

Charlotte waived her off. “Everything’s washable or dry-cleanable. I’m not completely impractical. At least, not always.” She pointed down, waggling her perfectly white sneakered feet at Em. “See? Sneakers.”

Em laughed and pulled on the backyard gate. “Yes, very practical.” She pulled harder, and Tig came tumbling through the gate to slam into Charlotte, knocking her to the ground, Tig on top of her.

“Oh.”

Tig grinned at her, staring at her mouth that formed a perfect cherry-red “O” and just begged to be kissed. He did not move from where he lay sprawled out on top of her until Charlotte cleared her throat and scowled at him.

Barely resisting the temptation to kiss her on her cute nose, Tig rolled off, hopped up, and stuck out his hand to help her up.

“Hey there, missy. We need to stop meeting like this,” he said, grinning down at her.

“Yes, we do.” Charlotte put her hand in his, and he pulled her up, steadied her, and gave her arms a little squeeze for good measure.

Charlotte huffed at him and straightened her blouse where it rucked up.

Em blinked at the two of them. “You two know each other?”

“We danced a bit at Rockabilly Night,” Charlotte sniffed.

“Honey, you
know
we tore that damn floor up,” Tig growled, getting irritated.

It was one thing that she had not called him. He could accept that she did not want to see him again or go out, maybe, but to deny that there was an intense chemistry between them on the dance floor?
That
was complete and utter bullshit.

So many times during the previous days, Tig had considering asking for Charlotte’s number, but he stopped himself, deciding ultimately that it was either pushy, or desperate, or creepy, or possibly a combination of the three. Now, he thought he just might have dodged a bullet.

But when she turned those violet—
violet!—
eyes on him, Tig thought he just might have seen a glimmer of heat before she tamped it down.

Em blinked again and then clapped her hands together. “Oooo-kay. Um, Charlotte, would you like something to drink? Let’s get something to drink.” And she hustled Charlotte into the backyard, and Tig stomped along behind them.

“See? Not so bad, right?” Bailey grinned at Charlotte.

Charlotte giggled.
Giggling? Oh, girl, you’ve had too much to drink.
She immediately stopped.

Bailey scoffed. “Now you just need to stop that.”

“Sorry,” Charlotte said with a sigh.

“No, stop
that
. I like it when you’re . . . you.”

Charlotte frowned in confusion. “I have no idea what you mean, Bailey. Boy, I think I have had too much to drink.”

“You’ve been getting drinks from the non-spiked bowl; it’s just fruit juice and ginger ale.” Bailey was distracted by her huge bear of husband, all six foot eight, two hundred fifty pounds of him, turning a cartwheel. “Oh my Lord. Colin, be careful.”

“You sure there wasn’t any booze in that?” Charlotte said with another giggle.

Bailey shook her head. “I’m absolutely positive. Colin doesn’t drink, but he normally doesn’t eat a lot of sugar either. I think he’s on a sugar high.”

When Colin executed a perfect standing backflip, and then flipped Tig off, Bailey rolled her eyes and said, “He is
definitely
on a sugar high. Colin, you’re cut off.”

He looked insulted, grabbed a glass, and chugged the contents down.

Bailey shook her head. “He’s as bad as Maude.”

Bailey turned back to her friend. “Anyway, as I was saying, I like it when you let go, when you free yourself from Little Miss Perfect mode.”

“‘Little Miss Perfect’? Is that what you think of me?”
Charlotte, you absolutely
will
not cry.

Bailey’s eyes opened wide in horror when she realized what just came out of her mouth. “No. Charlotte. I like you in all your modes. Heck, I really like it when you’re in Little Miss Perfect Who Gets Her Paperwork In On Time mode.” She grinned and then huffed an embarrassed sigh. “I’m sorry. That came out all wrong.”

“It’s okay,” Charlotte shrugged.

“No, it’s not okay. I hurt your feelings. What I was trying to say is I like you for you, however you are. I like the you that you show us when we’re talking about dirty books, or talking about movies, or looking at shoes. And I like the you that’s kick-butt at her job and doesn’t let anybody push her around. And I also like the you that you don’t let many people see.”

“And what’s that?”

“The you that stops and pets every single dog you encounter and that gives the homeless guys who hang out on the corner bottled water and gift cards for food.”

“You know I do that? With the bottled water and the gift cards? Hell, even I didn’t realize I did that with the dogs.”

“We do, Charlotte. We all know.”

Well, hell.

“And here’s something else I know: there’s a peanut farmer that’s a bit smitten with you, no matter how cool he’s trying to play it.”

“Peanut farmer? Tig? He’s a
peanut farmer
?”

“Yep. He’s down at the family farm whenever he’s not training or running a class at the Fight Club. And he’s sure been sneaking looks at you this evening.”

Charlotte swallowed hard and cut her eyes toward Tig, who was laughing at something so hard he had to rest his hands on his knees to keep his balance.

She took a good, long look at him while he was sitting the grass, grinning and putting his boots back on. He wore his cowboy hat again, and just a short-sleeved T-shirt and ripped jeans. The snug T-shirt stretched over his shoulders, the sleeves stretched tightly over big tattooed arms, and Charlotte thought she could see small licks of color creeping up along the back of his neck. He hopped up, tucked his shirt into his jeans, tightened a big, brass belt buckle, and did a little shimmy.

Charlotte whimpered.

“Charlotte, go talk to him,” Bailey coaxed.

“I kind of blew him off, earlier,” she confessed. “I . . . panicked, maybe? Something? He put his picture and his number in my phone, and I didn’t call him.”

“Well, he’s here, now, right? You don’t have to call him when he’s standing right across the backyard from you.”

“I suppose not. Huh.”

Bailey patted Charlotte on the arm and then started across the yard, saying, “Colin Carmichael, how much of that punch have you had, huh? You’ll never go to sleep tonight. Oh, no, you better not . . .”

Colin grinned and dove toward Bailey’s waist, hoisting her up and swinging her around and laughing. Charlotte could see him whisper something in her ear that made her flush bright red and swat at him, but she looked pleased and shy, and maybe a little bit aroused, when she kissed him sweetly on his lips.

Charlotte’s eyes drifted back to Tig, whose stance wavered but his eyes did not, and they were glued to her. She gulped some air, gave herself a mental pep talk, and walked over to the blond man.

“Um, hey,” she said.

“Hay’s for horses,” he said with a good-natured grin, but one that did not quite reach his eyes.

She huffed a small laugh. “I had a teacher who always said that.” She waited a beat or two. “I’m sorry, Tig. I should have called you.”

Tig shook his head and shrugged. “It is what it is. You’re not interested.” He shrugged again. “Ain’t no big thing.”

“But it is, isn’t it? I was pretty rude. And the thing is . . . I
am
interested.”

“In me?”

“Well, yeah. Why would I not be?”

“Because you’re . . . you, and I’m a fuckin’ wannabe . . . wannabe. I’m not really a fighter, but I’m not really a farmer, I’m just a wannabe, period.” The look on Tig’s face almost broke Charlotte’s heart. His expression was
exactly
like she felt the majority of the time: like a fraud and an imposter.

“You know, I saw you that night.”

“What night?” Charlotte frowned.

“At Foley’s. You came in with Bailey? You had on a pink suit and some crazy sexy high heels?”

Charlotte laughed. “Yeah. I did. I noticed you, too, by the way. I noticed you when all those crazy guys lifted you up and started passing you around the pub.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of hard to miss a skinny cowboy getting thrown around, huh?”

“Yeah. But I’m sorry, really.”

“Well, apology accepted. But, you’re gonna have to tell me this again because I’m beyond drunk.”

“You are? You sound pretty normal.”

He hiccupped. “Believe me, darling. I am completely trashed.” He swayed a bit. “Whoa.”

“Okay, Kicker, you’re going upstairs and sleeping this one off, buddy.” Colin grabbed a shoulder in each hand. “Tig, tell the pretty lady good night and you’ll see or talk to her soon.”

“Good night, pretty lady. Don’t tease me and tell me you’re interested only to ignore me again. That’d be real mean, and you don’t strike me as the mean type. I bet you are downright sweet.” Tig wavered on his feet.

“Okay, guy, come on,” Colin said, laughing and giving Tig’s arm a tug. “Let’s go. Don’t make me carry you.”

“She said she was interested, C. I sure hope she’s not just being nice,” she heard him say as Colin herded him into the house.

“Oh, Tig, honey. Bless your heart,” Charlotte murmured.

She stood in the yard, looking at the house for a long moment, until she felt the bump of a cool glass against her arm.

“How’d it go?”

Charlotte accepted the cup Bailey waggled at her.

“Oh, I think it went as well as it could, seeing as he probably won’t remember a thing about the conversation tomorrow. He was pretty toasted.”

“Really?”

“He said he was.”

“Oh, believe him.” Colin came up behind Bailey and kissed her on the head. “He’s passed out in the first guest room, babydoll. I’m guessing he’ll be there all night.” Colin looked at Charlotte, opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut and shook his head. “Never seen him like that before.”

Charlotte blinked and took another deep slurp of her drink. “This new batch is really good, Bailey. What’s in this one? It tastes coconut-y.”

“Coconut? What?” Em took the drink from Charlotte’s hand and tasted a tiny bit from the straw. “Oh, no. You’ve been drinking the boozy ones. Damn that Rory. I wondered why he took off so fast.”

“You know why he took off so fast—a night alone playing dress-up with Ashley.” Bailey wiggled her eyebrows and Colin groaned.

The three women looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“This definitely beats drinking alone,” Charlotte sighed.

“That’s right, girlie. Don’t ever drink alone. Unless you have a handsome downstairs neighbor that will come and be nice to you and then tuck you into bed.” Em looked toward her husband with love in her eyes as she spoke.

“Is ‘tuck me in’ a euphemism?” Bailey winked at Em.

“No, he literally picked me up, put me in bed, and tucked me in. He even put a trash can at my bedside, and water and headache pills on my nightstand, and then he left.”

“That’s so sweet. I’ve never heard that story,” Bailey said.

“He’s a sweetheart, my Michael.” Em sighed. “And we probably better go. Maude and Emily will be up bright and early, no matter how much their parents had to drink the night before.”

“Y’all wanna stay here? We’ve got room.”

“No, we’ll be better at home.” Em snorted a laugh.

“Looks like Mick had the same idea,” Bailey said, nodding toward Mick, who had their sleeping daughter in his arms.

“Hey, ducky, ready to go?”

“Yep.” Em said with a smile. “Charlotte, I’m so glad you came. I hope we didn’t scare you too much.”

“I loved it. I had a really good time,” Charlotte grinned.

“Good. Next time, we’ll have you over, and everyone will be there.”

Charlotte’s jaw dropped. “There are more of you?”

Mick barked a laugh. “Oh, girlie, you don’t even know.”

“I better get going, too,” Charlotte said. She stood up and immediately plopped back down. “Wow, I’m light-headed.”

“What you are is drunk,” Colin said with a laugh. “You’re staying here, too, girlie. Come on.”