“Mmm, I’d tap that.”
“So, you didn’t even get to have hot raunchy groomsmen sex? What’s the point of being a bridesmaid if you don’t get the one perk of being said bridesmaid?”
Punching into the rubberized dummy in front of her, Roxsanna Roberts huffed out a laugh as she turned to look at her friend, who stood off to the side with her arms crossed, one hip pushed out.
“The only groomsmen there were Kasey—”
“Mmm, I’d tap that.”
Roxy glared at her friend and continued, “—who happens to be like my third cousin or something, and the brides two younger brothers, one of them wasn’t even over eighteen, so no. No hot raunchy groomsmen sex.”
“Laaaame,” Natalie groaned, dropping her arms from where they were crossed over her chest. “Pleeease tell me Kasey looked drop dead gorgeous in his tux. And Freeman. Gaawd that man. Bummer he finally got shackled.”
Roxy rolled her eyes and turned back to the rubber dummy, raising her fists and correcting her stance before throwing another punch, making the dummy wobble on its stand.
“They both looked very handsome. Jodi is awesome, though,” Roxy huffed on an exhale after another solid hit.
“And I think Kasey’s about to be tied down, too. Sorry for your luck, sis.”
“That’s alright, I’ve been trying to get Travis’ attention, but the man is like a machine. All he does is train and be all broody and silent,” Natalie muttered, leaning against the wall.
“Are you actually going to work out, or are you just going to stand here and bug me while I do?” Roxy snapped, turning to face her again. “Why do you pay for the membership if you don’t do anything while you’re here?”
“Umm, I get in plenty of cardio elsewhere, thank you very much,” Natalie snapped back, though she was grinning. “I’m here for the views.”
Following her friend’s brown eyes, Roxy turned her head and found what had captured the other woman’s attention; former MMA fighter, Travis ‘The Reaper’ Hayes, known best for his deadly left hook in the cage.
Standing on the other side of the rec center, Travis paid them no attention as he wrapped his hands with red sports tape.
Standing in profile, they watched as he wrapped first his right hand, then his left, crossing the roll of tape in an X formation across each hand to protect the knuckles.
Light, golden brown hair with streaks of silver throughout hung down past his insanely broad and heavily tattooed shoulders, obscuring his face as he concentrated on his task.
A thick but well-maintained beard covered his upper lip, cheeks, and chin.
Roxy admired the way his muscles moved across wide shoulders, down massive arms that were nearly as big as her thighs, across an outrageously well-defined chest and abdomen…
Also all heavily tattooed. In fact, nearly every visible inch of skin on his body was covered in tattoos, something Roxy had always found undeniably sexy, and the air of danger around the man was intoxicating.
And that was exactly why Roxy had only ever spoken to the man in passing.
Because she didn’t do dangerous anymore. No ma’am.
Sexy and intimidating and dark and broody were all things that turned into nightmares later. All that sexy intrigue and the thrill of something dangerous that was so fun and exciting in the beginning… But it doesn’t stay that way.
That thrill of danger would turn into the reality of danger.
That thrill of danger that was oh-so alluring in the beginning would turn into busted lips, black eyes, bruises on wrists.
And then of course the cycle of love bombing would start; the special date nights out, a lavish and unexpected gift, or a blood red rose flower arrangement that would show up on the kitchen counter afterward.
As if that was all it took to make it all go away. Sweep it under the rug. At least until the next time. Until enough was enough.
Never again.
No, she would be perfectly fine with a run of the mill, nice, boring, predictable guy…
He could wear pleated khakis, eat his turkey sandwich with the crust cut off, and have passively satisfying sex with his socks still on for all she cared.
Boring and predictable was A-okay with her.
That was if she ever decided to date again, which was a really big if.
Roxy’s attention was brought back to Travis as they watched him bring the roll of sports tape to his mouth and tear it with a set of impeccably straight white teeth.
He must have a killer orthodontist, Roxy thought hazily, then shook her head and glanced at Natalie when she heard a small moan come from her friend, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.
“You’re droolin’, doll,” Roxy whispered, shoving her friend in the shoulder as she turned back toward the dummy once more.
“I just wanna give him a go,” Natalie whispered wistfully as she continued to stare at the man across the room. “You know with moves like that he’s got to be great in the sack. Shit, I’ll join his class. I don’t care. I just want to get closer.”
“His kickboxing class?” Roxy asked on a rough laugh. “You’d break a nail in the first five minutes and never go back.”
“I’d push through just to spend more time with all that,” Natalie murmured, waving her hands in his general direction, pantomiming running them along his body, at the same time that he turned his head toward the two of them.
The squeak of abject horror from her friend at being caught ogling him was enough to make Roxy’s entire night.
Roxy laughed out loud, though she admittedly felt a flush of heat rise to her cheeks when his eyes rose to meet hers before he turned away as if he hadn’t noticed a thing. Almost like they weren’t worth being noticed in the first place. Jerk.
Bending to pick up her water bottle from the floor, Roxy took a drink before taking a step in the direction of the wide bench that housed several other people’s bags, as well as her own. Natalie grabbed her arm, hissing, “Where are you going?”
“I actually did my workout, Nat,” Roxy drawled dryly, giving her friend a withering look. “So I’m going home.”
“Don’t leave me heeere,” Natalie whined, trailing after her. Roxy pulled a hooded sweatshirt on over her sports bra and loose fitted tank top. She removed her sneakers, placing them in her bag sitting on the bench, before sliding her feet into checkered Vans slip-ons that had seen better days.
“I’m not leaving you. I’m going home.”
“Party pooper,” Natalie grumbled, but Roxy merely rolled her eyes and hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. “Well, have a good night, you old maid.”
“You’re older than I am,” Roxy reminded her with a wink, making her friend gasp in feigned outrage.
“You take that back.”
Roxy laughed, blowing her friend a kiss. “Can’t do that. It’s the honest truth.”
“You’re only younger than me by a year!” Roxy heard Natalie hiss to her retreating back, making her laugh harder as she walked out into the early evening air, the sun setting on the horizon.
It was a mild evening for January in Melody Hills, Texas, just chilly enough to warrant bundling up in an extra layer.
Roxy shivered, recalling the bitter cold and far too much snow she’d just returned from in the Colorado Rocky Mountains for her best friend Freeman Thorp’s wedding the weekend prior. Ugh. So much snow and cold that just seeped into her bones.
Making the short drive from the rec center to the small ranch style cabin she’d taken over the rental lease on when Freeman had moved back to northern Michigan, she pulled into the driveway and stared at the small house for a long time.
She still remembered the night she’d shown up on the doorstep, asking Freeman if it was okay if she stayed there for a few days after she left her boyfriend at the time, Neal Johnson, after he’d put his hands on her one time too many.
Free had opened his home to her without a second of hesitation.
He’d helped her get a restraining order on him when he began to show up at her work, harassing her for leaving him, accusing her of choosing Free over him, convinced she’d been sleeping with Freeman the entire time.
She couldn’t blame him for the assumption; her relationship with Freeman Thorp was unconventional at best. They’d met years ago and had become ‘best-friends-with-benefits’ or so Kasey had dubbed them ages ago, at least until she’d met Neal.
Sex with the rugged and sexy Freeman was always just sex, something to scratch the itch.
And when she’d met Neal, that aspect of their relationship had stopped immediately.
They’d seamlessly transitioned to simply best friends, something not many people understood. Neal being one of them.
This home was also where Neal had followed her to late one night, knowing she was there alone with Free away in Michigan, and had beaten the hell out of her after she left him.
Blind with rage and jealousy that she’d chosen to go to Free’s home to escape him, he’d unleashed all his fury on her.
She still carried the scar on her lip and her vision was blurry in her left eye from the force he’d used that night.
Neal had fled the area, presumably leaving Texas altogether. The police had not located him, a fact that bothered Freeman and his new wife to no end. They had already started hounding her to consider moving to northern Michigan, to be closer to a bigger and better safety net.
But Roxy didn’t mind living alone because he’d never come back. She hadn’t seen or heard from Neal Johnson in almost a year and a half. Each day got a little easier, those gray clouds of doom shifting further and further into the distance.
Picking up her duffel bag from the passenger seat, Roxy climbed out of her little Rav4 and walked inside, flipping on lights as she went, dusk darkening the small home as the sun set beyond the horizon.
Crossing to the refrigerator, she pulled out a bottle of chilled white wine, turning to the cupboard and picking up a wine glass, before spinning on her heel to place them both on the counter behind her.
The bottle of wine slid from her hand and fell to the smooth brick floor, shattering and spilling wine in every direction, but Roxy didn’t care. She barely noticed.
Because there, sitting in the very center of the island countertop in her kitchen, was a bouquet of blood red roses.