Love for Hire (The Price Brothers #1)

Chapter 1 Nico

ONE

NICO

“It was really nice to meet you. I had a great time tonight.”

I did not have a great time tonight.

Rachel, the girl I connected with on Hinge two weeks ago and met for the first time tonight, smiles at me as I open the Uber door for her. “I had such a fun time. Maybe we can do this again next week?”

I sigh internally. I don’t like lying on dates, but it seems like the best option sometimes.

“I might be pretty busy the next few weeks,” I say with an apologetic wince. “I have a fight coming up.” A white lie. “So training unfortunately takes up a lot of my time. I’m sorry.”

When her face falls, I try to lighten the mood with a joke.

“Some days, I swear, I’ll have to retire to have a social life.”

Shockingly, not a lie.

She tries for an understanding smile, but it’s obvious she’s bummed.

Goddamnit, why can’t I fall for a girl like Rachel? She’s sweet, smart, has a good job; our humor isn’t a perfect match, but whose is? She’s exactly the kind of nice girl who any man would be lucky to settle down with.

But I don’t feel anything for her.

“Well, good luck on your fight then,” she says sweetly. “Maybe…give me a call when life slows down?”

I force a smile. “I definitely will. Have a good night, Rachel.”

Her gaze dips to my lips for a split second, but I can’t bring myself to kiss her. I already feel empty from our date, and I don’t think I could handle any meaningless affection.

I step back, as if to give her room to get in the car. “Get her home safe, please,” I say to the driver.

I wait until the car is pulling away from the curb to let out a gigantic exhale.

I’ve lost track of how many dates I’ve been on lately that have felt like this. Where I walk away at the end of the night feeling like there’s something wrong with me, because how is it possible I don’t feel anything for anyone?

Ironically, even my relationship of five years suffered from this affliction.

Every milestone we reached was just because the appropriate amount of time had passed and it made sense as the next step.

Making our relationship official, saying I love you, moving in together, all of it felt…

logical. It’s hard to end a relationship when nothing is wrong, per se.

But I guess she got tired of us being the equivalent of roommates who have boring sex once a week because, in the end, she’s the one who decided to break up with me.

I should’ve been more upset about it, but the truth is, I felt nothing. Nothing but a little bit of relief that I could start to date again and maybe, finally, find someone who sets my blood on fire.

And yet, even after dozens of dating app dates, blind dates, overpriced matchmaker dates…I still feel room temperature.

I let out another exhale, this one more tired than the last. I should go home and get some sleep. I wasn’t lying to Rachel about training taking up most of my time and energy.

But I also know that if I went home right now, my restless brain would continue spinning and likely keep me up too late.

My feet turn toward the gym before I even make the conscious decision.

It’s a fifteen-minute walk to my MMA gym. Even though it’s almost 9 p.m. on a Friday, there might still be some stragglers on the mats. But even if there isn’t, I’ve had the key to the gym since I was twenty-one when I committed my life to the sport.

A few rounds of bagwork should tire me out enough to shut off my brain.

But when I walk into the gym, I realize right away that I won’t be going straight into a workout. Because my striking coach is standing at the reception desk, phone to his ear and a downright giddy smile on his face.

I lift an eyebrow in a silent what’s going on? He hurriedly waves me closer as he says, “Speak of the devil. He just walked in.”

He pushes the button for speaker as I step around the desk and plop down into the office chair. “Alright, you’re on speaker,” he says.

“Actually, I’ll let you deliver the good news.” I recognize my brother Lucas’s voice instantly. Which makes sense, because he’s also my manager. “I’m running into a meeting with a client.”

My coach frowns down at his phone. “At nine p.m.?”

“Lucas swears by his late night, scotch-fueled closures,” I explain as I reach for the phone. Then, to my brother, “Goodbye, Lucas.”

I hang up before he can come back with whatever quip he was waiting with, looking expectantly at my coach. “So, what’s up?”

His grin is gigantic. “Lucas got you a fight. The fight.”

For the second time tonight, I have to swallow a sigh. I should’ve guessed that was the news, just based on his excitement level.

I really am off my game.

“Oh yeah?” I ask. “Against who?”

Somehow, his grin grows. “Pete Hanson.”

I let out an appreciative whistle. Lucas has been working on that one for almost two years at this point. “Damn. When?”

“Two months. You’re fighting at the Garden.”

Holy shit. Lucas really did work his charm.

Fighting at Madison Square Garden has always been a dream of mine. Add to that a perfectly matched opponent and the fact that it’s close to home, and it’s pretty much the ideal matchup. Plus, it might be the most important fight of my career.

But do I even care?

I try to shoo that thought away. Now is not the time to go down that rabbit hole.

Turning my attention to my coach again, I ask, “Knowing Lucas, I’m assuming he already set up some extra training sessions for me next week.

Are we focusing on improving my wrestling like we always planned on for this fight? ”

He snorts. “Pretty sure he was setting them up as we were on the phone. Your brother is another breed.” Then, he pauses, thinking over my question for a moment. “Two months isn’t nearly as much time as I’d like for your fight camp, but Lucas said you’d want to make that sacrifice for the Garden.”

I simply nod.

“I know I don’t need to tell you this, but I’m going to anyway: you’re going to need to buckle down for this fight, Nico.”

Another stiff nod. “I know.”

If he notices my lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t comment on it. Hopefully, he just thinks I’m shifting into work mode.

“You know the drill when it comes to your training, but…” His hesitation makes me frown. What is he trying not to say? “I think you should relax with the social life, too.”

Social life…? I barely ever go out, even when I don’t have a fight coming up. The only people I hang out with are my brothers and—

His unspoken comment suddenly hits me. “You mean with dating.”

“I didn’t know how to say that in another way,” he says with a wince.

Then he sobers and looks me in the eye. “Look, I get it, okay? You’re getting older; maybe your friends are starting to settle down and get married…

I get it. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave the bachelor life behind.

But it’s clearly eating up more mental energy than you can afford with this fight lined up. ”

“That’s not true,” I argue, albeit weakly. “They’re just dinner dates. There’s zero energy expended.”

He gives me a knowing lift of his eyebrow. “Yeah? Is that why you walked in here looking like someone just beat you five rounds to none?”

You can’t hide anything from coaches.

I blow out a heavy breath. “Alright, fine. I had a shitty first date.”

He sighs and leans back against the reception desk. “Maybe a break from dating would be good for you. I mean, don’t they say you find your person when you stop looking?”

“That’s a stupid saying, Coach.”

For a second, it looks like he wants to defend it, or say something else to make me feel better. But then he visibly gives up. “Fine, whatever. But you can’t say I’m wrong about it being distracting for you. And that you should take the next two months off while you’re training for this fight.”

Damnit. He’s right. Dating is only making me disappointed and depressed lately.

“Yeah, okay,” I relent with a huff. “No more dating.”

He nods. “Good.” And maybe in an attempt to make me feel better, he adds, “But hey, feel free to keep the occasional booty call. You know they’ve debunked the ‘no sex before a fight’ thing. It’s just the emotional shit you’ve got to stay away from.”

At this rate, that’s all I’ll have. I’m going to die a spinster with a roster.

I try for an amused smile. “You know, you really take modern coaching to a whole new level.”

He grins. “Most guys would be grateful. Have sex but don’t catch feelings.”

Most guys probably would be grateful.

Leave it to me to be the only one who reaches the opposite of a mid-life crisis at thirty years old.