Surge: (#7 The Beat and The Pulse) Read online

  “You’d remember me if I was, sweetheart,” I drawled, making her blush. “It’s personal. Is she here?”

  “Her office is over there.” She pointed to a little alcove of private rooms to the side of the main reception desk. “Her door’s open, so she should be free.”

  Pushing off the counter, I strode over to the open door before my senses kicked in and I turned tail and went back to the hotel. We were flying back to Sydney in the morning after having only a few days off from training to attend Ash and Ren’s wedding. Then it was back to the grind. I couldn’t believe I was spending my one free day to go see Monica, but I had to know.

  Was she sorry for what she’d done to Ren, and was there anything there between us? After all this time, was it time for me to finally let go?

  Peering in the door, I found Monica leaning over a tiny little desk, writing notes in a folder of some sort. Motivational posters and food charts were plastered around the room, a bookcase crammed full sat along the wall opposite her desk, and a filing cabinet was squashed into the space by the door. It was a five by six foot box of chaos.

  Stepping into the maelstrom, I closed the door behind me, and she glanced up, her eyes widening when she saw it was me.

  “Dean?”

  “Hey,” I said, leaning against the wall.

  She shuffled some papers, anything to avoid looking at me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I train at Fitness First,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Why do you think I’m here?”

  She sighed and gestured for me to sit. “Look, I don’t know what I was thinking turning up at Ren’s wedding yesterday… It was a mistake.”

  Pulling up the chair opposite her, I shrugged. “Yeah, dick move.”

  “Did she see?”

  I gathered she meant Ren, so I shook my head. “No. Only me and Josie saw you.”

  She nodded, and the air became thick between us, the little office shrinking even further. Now that I was here, I didn’t even know what to say. I hadn’t thought this far because it had always been easy to talk to Monica. I hadn’t cared that much in the past, using bravado instead to try to impress her. Now we were all grown up.

  I still didn’t know how to be an adult. That, I could admit.

  “I’m trying to make a go of things here,” Monica said after a moment. “I’ve got a lot of clients who come in on recommendations, I get a nice bonus at the end of every month, and I’m even starting my own website and taking private consultations. Things are really starting to look up for a change, you know? After punishing myself for so long…”

  “That all sounds great,” I said.

  “I know I’m not welcome back at Beat. Dad made that perfectly clear. Honestly, I don’t know if I can ever repair the damage I’ve done to my family. I know what I did was wrong, and not a day goes by that I don’t regret it.”

  “Then why did you show up at the wedding like you did? You had to have known it’d cause a scene if they saw you.”

  “There was a part of me that wanted to see… That wanted to see if it was real. Despite everything, I couldn’t let it go. The feelings I had for him.” She snorted, turning her gaze on her hands. “I should’ve let go a long time ago. Then none of this would’ve happened.”

  I narrowed my eyes, her words echoing what I felt for her. The whole thing was eerie.

  “It’s over,” she said with a shrug. “All I can do now is try to move forward. At least, that’s what my therapist says.”

  “You going to therapy?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. The powerful, don’t-give-a-crap Monica Miller on a shrink’s couch? I couldn’t picture it.

  “Yeah,” she replied, glancing at me. “Things got really messed up.”

  I was beginning to lose my nerve, so I did a typical dick Dean move. Leaning forward, I grasped her face in my hands and pulled her in. Her lips hit mine, and for a split second, nothing happened…then everything did at once.

  Her head tilted to the side, and she kissed me back, and for one blissful moment, I felt it. The lust that had driven me all these years. Her lips parted, and I swept my tongue into her mouth, fully intending to devour her. I didn’t give a crap that she was at work and her next client could come through that door at any moment.

  Then she seemed to realize what we were doing and froze. Her fingers wrapped around my wrists and tugged my hands away, breaking through the haze. She didn’t have to say anything. I got it. This was lust, nothing more.

  Empty. Lust was empty…

  “Dean…” she murmured, but I didn’t want to hear what she had to say.

  “I guess I had to see if it was…” I began, beginning to feel like a dick.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” she replied, her eyes not meeting mine. “But it’s not right.”

  Deep down, I knew she was right. Standing, I ran my hand over my face, rubbing my lips before opening the door and walking out. Just like that.

  Ignoring the stares from the woman at the reception desk, I strode outside into the sunshine and got into the car. Curling my hands around the steering wheel, I cursed and shoved down the urge to smash my fists into something. Out here, the air was clear and I could breathe again.

  Despite all the warnings Monica’s own life had given me, I still couldn’t let go. Not entirely. It was a bad habit that wouldn’t quit. I’d wanted her for ten years, and it didn’t just go away. It was a dumb addiction, and I couldn’t seem to find the cure.

  I guess what they said about me was true. Lincoln was the cool, calm, and collected one, and I was the hotheaded imbecile. Our brains had been split down the middle in the womb, and I’d gotten the dumb half.

  Just my luck.

  3

  Josie

  “I can’t believe you’re not going on a honeymoon!”

  I stood in the middle of Ren’s fancy apartment with my hands on my hips and couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My best friend was the hardest working woman out there and totally deserved a three-week sexathon with her new hunky husband.

  “We went to Thailand like…” She paused, twirling her finger around the end of her chestnut-colored ponytail.

  “A year ago,” I finished for her.

  “Has it really been that long?”

  I sighed and sank down onto the leather couch. What I wouldn’t do for a three-week long sexathon right now.

  The apartment was plush. I mean, it had everything and then some with its state-of-the-art kitchen, fancy furnishings, and location. It sat smack-bang over the top of Pulse Fitness, the multimillion-dollar fighter gym she co-owned with her husband. Glancing out the windows and across the outdoor patio at the Melbourne skyline, I desperately wanted to ask if I could move into the guest bedroom.

  It was a palace that Ash Fuller had built for his one and only, and God, it made me want to puke with jealousy.

  “Anyway,” Ren declared, sitting beside me. “I want to know what you were thinking yesterday.”

  I grimaced and was suddenly glad I’d worn my flats today. Ren had her fighter face on, so I had to be ready to run and run fast.

  “It just…came out,” I said, readying myself for the dash to the door.

  “Couldn’t it have come out after the wedding? All I wanted was one day without drama.”

  Little did she know, breaking up with Hamish was nothing compared to the atomic bomb I saved her from. Not that I was going to tell her.

  “This whole place is full of drama,” she went on. “Just one day, Josie! Just. One. Day.”

  “I’m sorry, okay?” I exclaimed. “It just came out like projectile vomit. Blargh!” I made hand gestures to go along with the vomiting part, waving them back and forth wildly.

  “God, I want to throttle you!”

  “You and me both.”

  “He didn’t look to happy…”

  I frowned, remembering the hurt that had flashed across Hamish’s face the moment I blurted the words ‘there’s someone else.’ The second they left my lips, I knew I’d stuffed u
p, but it was like an avalanche. There was no stopping it after that.

  “I’d apologize…” I began.

  “I’d leave him alone,” Ren shot back. “Knowing Hamish, he’d have gone straight to The Underground.”

  The Underground was an illegal cage fighting racket that operated a stone’s throw away from Pulse Fitness in Abbotsford, a suburb in Melbourne, Australia. Nothing about the place was sunshine and rainbows, but it was where I’d first met Hamish ‘Goblin’ McBride. He was Ash’s best mate, so it was only a matter of time before our orbits crossed, and the moment I’d laid eyes on his ripped, tattooed body and my gaze met his stunning emerald eyes, I was a goner. Then the guy had opened his mouth, and his Irish accent was just the icing on the beefcake. Lots of icing with all the trimmings.

  We fought constantly, broke up, and then got back together with a whole night and morning of marathon sex. Guaranteed orgasm for both parties. It’d happened so many times I’d lost count. The making up part had overshadowed the breaking up part, so by the time it came around again, we’d forgotten how shitty it was.

  When things had started to get serious, I’d seen the reality of our attraction, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. It was lust, plain and simple, and lust always faded in the cold light of day.

  Hamish and I didn’t work long-term.

  “Ugh, I feel like a big, fat, steaming turd,” I declared.

  “He’ll be okay,” Ren said. “But I’m still angry with you. Angry as a bee in a jar that’s been all shook up.”

  My phone dinged in my bag, and automatically, my hand reached into the depths of the chaos that was my purse and fished around for it. I had a certain tone for reminders, alerts, messages, and emails, so I knew the tone that just dinged. It was a Google Alert, which meant one of the Twins had been mentioned online someplace.

  Since it was my job to look after their image and promotion, I was hardwired to check, no matter if it was my day off or not.

  Pulling it out while Ren seethed on the couch next to me, I opened up the notice and almost choked on my own spit.

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” I exclaimed, scrolling through the news article.

  “What’s going on?” Ren asked, leaning over, our argument forgotten.

  “Fucking Dean Hayes is what’s wrong.” I handed her my phone and silently screamed into the void.

  The cliff notes version was AUFC star Dean Hayes spotted at a Fitness First gym in Brighton, an inner southern suburb of Melbourne. The tip-off also supplied visuals—Dean walking into the gym, Dean talking to the receptionist, and Dean disappearing into an office. Some creep with a mobile phone and too much time on their hands had snapped the images and sent them to an AUFC online blog. One of the big ones with a million followers.

  “Fitness First?” Ren asked slowly, her gaze lifting to mine. She knew what it meant already, but I still tried to weave around it like a stunt driver weaved around a set of witch’s hats.

  “There are two things wrong with that,” I declared. “One. It’s off-brand, and the sponsors are going to crack it big time. Dean Hayes, AUFC superstar, at a Fitness First? I can’t even!”

  “And the second?”

  My shoulders sank, and the ugly ball of jealousy I’d felt the day before at the sight of Monica Miller rose to the surface again. That bitch just needed to go away and rot someplace else.

  “You know what the second is,” I replied. “I don’t think it needs to be said out loud.”

  Ren was oddly quiet, and I didn’t blame her. She fiddled with her wedding and engagement rings, turning them around and around on her finger.

  “Do you ever think about her?” I asked carefully.

  Ren shrugged, staring at my phone. “Sometimes, I guess.”

  “Well, look at it this way,” I said. “You’ve got everything you ever wanted. An amazing man and your place.”

  “My place?” she asked, glancing at me warily.

  “Yeah, the place you belong. Your zone. Your calling. Your meaning.”

  She stared at me in a daze, then nodded. “You’re right.”

  “I almost always am.”

  Her lips began to curve upward. “I like how you said almost.”

  I smiled back, but right in the pit of my stomach, I could feel the familiar ball of jealousy stewing in its own juices, sloshing around like a toddler in a wading pool.

  I wanted my ‘place.’ I wanted it so bad that sometimes it was all I could think about.

  I had my job working for the Hayes Twins in Sydney, and in a way, it was my zone. Lights, cameras, fashion, style, hot men, and the matching paycheck. All of it was a dream come true, but something was missing. Or rather, someone. I wanted an Ash Fuller of my own. I’d tried to make Hamish into the man I wanted him to be, and it’d blown up in my face.

  “Just tell me one thing,” Ren said, handing me back my phone. “Did you break up with Hamish because it was the right thing to do, or was it for him?”

  “Him?” I asked, trying to play dumb.

  Her eyes narrowed in warning. “Dean.”

  It’d been an excuse, right? Using my harmless little crush on Dean Hayes to get out of seeing Hamish? Even as I thought it, deep down, I knew I was trying to fool myself. I could’ve just told Hamish it wasn’t working out between us for the myriad of reasons we both knew were true. Neither one of us wanted to change for the other despite the feelings between us. It just wasn’t working. I could’ve told him that, but no. I had to pull the Dean Hayes card like a bitch.

  Was there more to this crush than I first thought? Or was I fixating on Dean because he was the next and only single man on my radar? I sure hoped not. That was shitting where I slept. If I stuffed things up with him, then it was bye-bye best job in the world, and hello dreary, soul-sucking office monkey.

  “Josie,” Ren said, breaking me out of my internal shame spiral.

  I blinked about a million times before I could even utter, “Huh?”

  “Just think about it before you do anything, okay? Promise me.”

  Damn, I couldn’t fool Ren Miller. Not even for a second.

  “I promise.”

  I sure hoped I could keep it, but first, Dean Hayes needed a tongue-lashing of a different kind from his PR manager.

  And I was going to enjoy watching his dumb ass squirm.

  4

  Dean

  We flew back to Sydney on Monday morning, and it was straight back to the grind that afternoon.

  By we, I meant Josie, Lincoln, Violet, and myself. Coach was sticking around in Melbourne for a while to spend time with his daughter Ren, and we’d been left in Josie’s capable hands until he returned. Josie didn’t know a thing about training a pair of pro MMA fighters, but she did know how to keep us on the straight and narrow.

  Linc and I had our own private gym set up not far from the Sydney CBD and super close to the beach, which was something we’d never had living in Melbourne. Not a surf beach with lifeguard towers, bluebottle jellyfish invasions, and rips that could suck you out into the open ocean. Swimming wasn’t my strong suit, but occasionally, we went out for a change of pace from the same four walls.

  It was the polar opposite of Melbourne, and I missed home sometimes, but we had it pretty good.

  Glancing at my phone, there were no messages. Deep down, I knew Monica wouldn’t call or text, but I couldn’t help but hope. The door was pretty much closed, but I still had my boot jammed in the crack, keeping it open…just in case.

  A laugh sounded from the opposite end of the gym where my brother and his girl were tangled together, and I frowned.

  I looked at Lincoln and how he was with Violet, and I wondered how they did it. They’d been together for a year and a half and still hadn’t toned down the public displays of affection. It was still like day one, and I wondered if that’s what it was meant to be like when you found the right woman.

  How would I know?

  Throwing my phone into my gym bag, I pulled my shirt
over my head and tossed it, too. Wearing nothing but a pair of shorts that were stamped with the sponsor’s logo, I padded across to the bars, one eye on my brother and his girl. They were full-on going for it, kissing like they needed a bloody room, and I felt a weird pang of annoyance. It’d never bothered me seeing them together before, so why now?

  I could probably have a good guess and hit the nail right on the head. I was the last man standing.

  Shit, the realization kind of pissed me off when I thought about it like that. The one woman I did want had never really wanted me back.

  What was I going to do about it? The hell if I knew. The only thing I had in my control right now was my training, so I trained.

  I curled my hands around the bar above me and pulled myself up, relishing the feel of my muscles tightening as my arms bore the weight of my body. My chin cleared the bar, and I held for a moment before letting myself down again. My feet didn’t hit the mat as I went for a second repetition.

  I was up to ten when Josie appeared in my peripheral vision. I was vaguely aware that her arms were crossed over her chest. As always, she was dressed in business casual with a pair of black slacks and a pretty top, her six-inch heels dangling off one finger. Heels and gym mats didn’t mix.

  “What’s up?” I asked, pulling myself up for rep eleven of twenty.

  She didn’t answer straight away, and I knew she was pissed. There were two things I knew about that woman and one of them was her silent treatment. She was formulating a response that didn’t include expletives, and it was taking longer than usual. Which could only mean one thing.

  Somehow, she knew I’d gone to see Monica on Sunday.

  She couldn’t seem to formulate any words, so she held up her phone. Glancing at the screen as I lowered myself, I caught the headline. AUFC Star Dean Hayes Spotted at Fitness First. Then there was some garbage speculating about a potential sponsorship.

  I snorted and pulled myself up on the bar again. “That’s just junk. It’s not even an official site.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Josie said. “Sponsors read this shit, Dean.”