The Fighter's Stubborn Lover (The Burton Brothers Series Book 2) by Leslie North Read Free Book Online

Forcing himself to turn away, he went back to check on the steaks.
    “Good news is you’re eating Dustin’s steak. We were supposed to have dinner and watch the video of Shamus MacDougal’s last fight.”
    Avery sat down at the small dining table. “Well, that’s an Irish name.”
    “Yep, that’s even his nickname—the ‘Fighting Irish. He’s one of the best up-and-coming fighters in the semi-professional circuit. Strong, quick, and fearless—the perfect combination for a champion.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Avery shiver. He thought about changing the subject, but maybe if she knew more about MMA she wouldn’t be so tied up in knots about it. “But he’s like every other fighter—he’s got a weakness. And I don’t mean chocolate. Hey, do you want some wine? I’ve got some white in the fridge or a Cabernet that’s open.”
    Wrinkling her nose, she waved a hand. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
    “What? You’re not driving. The red goes better with steak, but I’m watching my figure, so it’s white for me.”
    “Okay—a small glass of the Cab sounds good.” She tipped her head. “But first tell me what’s your weakness?”
    He grinned. “No fair telling. But, yeah, I’ve got one too. All fighters have at least one. A smart fighter studies their opponent until they can identify what it is and capitalize on it. Dustin’s a little too wet behind the ears yet to really handle that kind of analysis. That’s one of the things we’re working on—watching enough tapes so he can come up with a game plan in just seconds. Learning how to read the other guy.” Except now I’m stuck with a missing fighter…and a sister who worries.
    Mason glanced at that worried sister. She was watching the door as if she expected Dustin to walk through it any second. She needed a distraction here. Heading to the fridge, he pulled out lettuce, tomatoes, and a cucumber. He fixed a small salad while the steaks grilled, and then he pulled a loaf of fresh bread from the pantry. “Oh, by the way, Marguerite—the compound housekeeper and cook—she left me a pecan pie. And, yeah, that is my weakness—good food. If I’m not careful, Marguerite has me moving up in weight class.” He glanced at Avery and saw her staring at him.
    She shook her head. “I have no idea what that means.”
    “What? You don’t know your brother fights bantam class? He goes up against other guys his size—the whole idea of a fair fight is you want to see who’s the best in class.”
    “It all sounds barbaric to me.”
    Mason poured himself a half a glass of white wine, letting it sit on the counter to breathe while the meat finished cooking. “Hey, want to be a help? You can set the table. Dishes and forks and stuff over in that sideboard there.” He watched as she bent over to pull out the dishes. Those sweats might be baggy, but they still did a nice job outlining her ass—a first class one. Letting his eyes travel down her body, he enjoyed the view. And then he heard the steaks pop. “Ready to eat?” he asked.
    He pulled out the steaks and plopped them onto the pottery plates Avery had set on the table. “It’s just salad and bread to go with. Given the desserts Marguerite keeps stuffing into me, I’m trying to watch the starches.”
    “It looks great.” She sat down across from him.
    He watched her fuss with her salad and cut the fat off her steak, and then cut it into tiny bits. And was it just him or was the room sizzling with tension between them. She had to be feeling this, too—the pull, the tug, and it got him thinking.
    Would she be like this in bed, all picky? Or could he make her forget to be fussy? If she let that long hair of hers down and loose, would she loosen up with it? He drank his wine and tried to get his thoughts off her. Keep thinking she is Dustin’s sister , he told himself.
    But it wasn’t working. He liked watching her mouth work—and that had him wondering what she tasted like. He wanted to