Rough and Ready (More Than A Cowboy #2) - Vanessa Vale Page 0,23

five-thirty, I wiped the sleepy grit from my eyes and saw she’d responded. Two hours earlier when I had the sound programmed off. What the hell was she doing up that late?

Harper: Didn’t I embarrass myself enough the first time?

I ran my hand over my face, felt the beard that was starting.

Me: That wasn’t what I remember about it. Go out with me.

I hit send and then realized what I’d done. I wasn’t fully awake. Why the hell was I texting before the sun came up? To a woman? I just asked Harper out. On a date. I didn’t do dates, I remembered, dropping my cell on my unmade bed and throwing on my workout clothes. I slipped sweats and a hoodie over top and grabbed my running shoes.

I waited for the elevator. Yeah, it was a lazy ass move instead of taking the stairs, but I was stalling my run and giving myself time to wait for her to respond back. My phone dinged as I stepped on, pressed the button for the ground floor. I glanced down at the screen.

Harper: Can’t.

I stopped halfway out the elevator, and the doors bumped my shoulders, prodding me to move. Gray was waiting in the lobby, tying his running shoes. He was dressed for the bitter cold in sweatpants, an insulated jacket and a skull cap on his head.

Me: Can’t or won’t?

Harper: Can’t. I’m in London.

I frowned. “Why the fuck is Harper in London?” I asked Gray, holding my phone out.

He looked up and raised an eyebrow as he stood. We didn’t usually talk before we finished the first mile of our run.

“Work, I think,” he replied.

That was why she hadn’t responded the night before. England was what, seven hours ahead? She’d been asleep. I ran my thumbs over my screen.

Me: You running from me?

She hadn’t mentioned a work trip, but then again, she hadn’t mentioned much of anything about herself. I knew what she did for a living and knew she had the endurance of an ultra-marathoner. I was somewhat aware of a shitty family and her misplaced source of comfort in sex with faceless men. That wasn’t much, and I had a feeling it all tied in together somehow. And the damn elevator. The woman was fucking complicated. I didn’t do complicated, didn’t even know how. But I did know I needed to figure her out. I needed to get her to feel safe with me, with not just her personal safety, but to let her guard down and give herself over to someone completely. To me completely.

Yeah, I was a hypocrite. I was a fighter, and it was my job to keep my guard up. I didn’t let anyone in whether it was in the ring or not. I’d had a shitty childhood with really, really shitty parents. I had enough baggage of my own that I refused to share with anyone. Gray may have gotten big bits and pieces out of me over the years, but he didn’t know it all. Didn’t know how truly bad it had been. But Harper, she’d one-two punched me the first time I laid eyes on her, and I was still sucking wind. I just worried I always would.

Harper: I’m running from everything.

Shit.

Gray tucked his hat lower on his head and went outside, saw his breath form in a white cloud beneath the entry lights. I couldn’t text Harper back. I wasn’t a thirteen-year-old girl and didn’t have the dexterity in my thumbs. Besides, Gray was waiting, and what was going on was too big for a fucking text. I slipped my cell into the band on my biceps, tugged on my running shoes and joined him outside, breathing in the biting air. Harper was something I was going to figure out. Later.

9

REED

“Who the fuck is that?” I asked, pointing out the window of the gym.

A car was in the lot, two men sitting in it. A black Cadillac, but it wasn’t a limo. The wheels were pimped out, and it didn’t have livery tags. They weren’t coming to the gym, and they didn’t look the type to buy flowers for their girlfriends from the florist next door.

Gray came over, crossed his arms over his chest. I grabbed my towel from a bench, wiped my sweaty face. My hands were taped, and my feet were bare. We were taking a break between rounds of sparring. Thor had come in directly from work, and we were waiting for him to get changed. I