Alpha Fighter
"Every girl in town knows that car."
    "Oh?" I ask. I try to keep my voice casual.
    "So, what's the story with you and cutie Cooper?" Tamryn winks at me. "New in town and already with the stud, huh?" 
    "Oh, we're not together." I can tell I'm blushing redder than the pizza sauce on my slice. I take a bite and look down at my table as I chew. "We're just roommates."
    "With benefits?" Tamryn smirks. "Come on, you know you want to tap that. Who doesn't?"
    "No, we're just roommates," I repeat. "So he's a lady's man, huh?"
    "No more than Casanova." Tamryn shrugs. "Honestly, it's more that women throw themselves at Cooper any chance they get than that he actually tries to be suave." Great. All the more reason to stay far, far, far away from Cooper. 
    "Have you seen that body? Have you seen that man fight?" Tamryn seems to have forgotten all about her lunch as she gazes off into the distance in a lusty daydream. “I’m not even an MMA fan chick or anything, but that man makes me want to line up by the ring and throw my bra in the air like the worst of ’em.”
    "I haven't seen him fight," I say, not mentioning that I have seen his ridiculously appealing abs and perfect chest. "Is he any good?"
    "Is he any good? He's a fucking beast." Tamryn shakes her head and picks up her pizza again. "Panties dropping, left and right."
    "Tamryn!"
    She just wiggles her eyebrows suggestively as she munches on her pizza.
    I try not to think about Cooper in the ring, dripping sweat down his perfect chest, his piercing blue eyes narrowed in concentration. I try not to think about his muscles tensing and jaw set. I try not to let my mental fighting ring turn into his bedroom and I try not to let his opponent turn into me. I try not to think about what it would feel like to have him use those muscles to pick me up, push me against a wall, and take me, deeply and passionately.
    The damp spot in my panties tells me my efforts aren't as successful as I'd like.

Chapter Fourteen
    Cooper
    I drop the shopping bags on the counter and shake my head in disbelief when I realize what I'm doing. I went to a bar where a sure thing was waiting for me, like she does every Thursday, in her almost publicly indecent hot pants and little tube top causing rises all along the bar. I chatted her up, ordered us each a drink. She giggled, gave me that 'I'm ready' look, and then I left. Without her.
    To go to the grocery store and buy food to cook dinner for a girl who is about as far from a sure thing as they get. In fact, she's so far on the other end that she's a surely not. She's off limits.
    So here I am, looking at two bags of nice groceries from one of those overpriced supermarkets where everything's organic-this or fair-trade-that, preparing to spend too much time and too much effort romancing a chick who's too much trouble to even consider.
    I tell myself that I'm not actually romancing this chick. I'm just being a good guy. She had a huge interview today and a nice dinner would be a great effort. Besides, a relaxed, happy girl is more likely to let her guard down and let me figure out what her story is than a stressed, hungry one. And last of all, she cleaned the whole fucking apartment yesterday and made it gleam like some Maple Street penthouse, for fuck's sake. I'm just returning the favor with a gesture of roommate good will.
    Yeah, right.
    Roommate good will is great and all, but I don't think there are many roommates out there, good will or not, who would sacrifice a sure lay with a smokin' chick to make dinner for their roommate pal. No guy is that nice.
    So what the fuck am I doing?
    I shake my head and stare at the grocery bags. Ah, well. Too late now. I'm not getting laid anymore and a man has to eat.
    I'm making pretty much the only thing I know how to make, my ma's lasagna with rolls from the store and a salad on the side, when Savannah stumbles in, mid-yawn.
    "Oh, hi" she says, stretching as she slides her backpack off her shoulders and holds it by the

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