Going the Distance (Sexy as Sin)

Chapter 1

Dani

M rs. Brock Rossi. Dani Rossi. Mr. And Mrs. Brock Rossi. Dr. And Mr. Brock Rossi. B and D forever.

These were the things I had scribbled all over my notebooks through most of the eighth grade. I would probably have kept it up through all of high school except some asshole had stolen my notebook and thrown it in a urinal. Thank God, he didn’t read it first. After that, I was afraid of someone seeing my notes and discovering my crush.

“ What’s the matter Dan the Man, you can go into the boy’s bathroom. ”

“ Come on, Dani Long Legs; you’re tall enough, just grab your notebook back .”

Thirteen-year-old boys were not nice people, and the fact that I was almost six feet tall by the time I hit eighth grade gave them plenty to work with. In their eyes, anyway. Even fifteen years later, I still got comments or second looks. I worked damn hard on my physique, so I was covered in muscle from head to toe. I was a solid six feet tall, and I wore my hair down to my waist. I’d had people assume I was everything from an elf in Lord of the Rings to a Viking to a man in women’s clothing. People expected me to be self-conscious when they said things like that, but it didn’t bother me anymore. Mostly.

I was tall.

I was strong.

And if somebody thought calling me a drag queen was an insult, well that just proved I was more man than they were. Honestly, I wished I knew how to do makeup like those queens could. I was more yoga pants than sequin gown.

I wasn’t worried about boys at that moment. I only had eyes for the man walking through the front door of Malice MMA. Fuck, he looked good. Thick black hair left just long enough for me to run my fingers through and hold on. Dark, soulful brown eyes that shined when he laughed, which was often. Normally, he was clean-shaven, but he had the ghost of a goatee going on–which I one hundred percent approved of. And that was just from the neck up. Brock was a police officer and kept himself in fantastic shape. The navy blue of the uniform set off his copper skin. Uniforms tended to be baggy, but his was tight in all the right places: biceps, thighs, ass. Ugh.

How in the hell am I supposed to train him?

Put me in a ring, shove a mouthguard over my teeth, and I’d sweat and bleed until I collapsed. Most people went their entire lives without being punched in the face. People saw fighters do it on TV all the time and thought it must not be so bad. It was. It fucking hurt. Eyes would naturally water and close. The instinct was to crawl into a little ball. It took mental and physical training to take a hit and keep going. I’d overcome those mental hurdles. I’d done that physical work. But with one smile from Officer Rossi, I was an awkward teenager all over again. The worst part was I couldn’t go after him even if I had the guts. Not only was he my brother’s best friend, but they were also partners on the force.

“Morning, Dani.” He looked confident as always, but I could see he was in pain and favoring his left side. He tried his best to hide it, but I had been a trainer for a long time and studying him for even longer. It had been about a month since Brock was stabbed in the leg in the line of duty. It happened while he was defending my boss’s girlfriend, Liz. For that reason, now that his stitches had healed, it was my job to get Brock back in good enough shape to pass the police fitness test. He couldn’t go back to active duty until he did.

“Morning. Are you ready for this?” I may have a soft spot for the guy, but I was a personal trainer with a reputation for results. I wasn’t about to go easy on him, especially since his job was on the line.

He leaned against the front desk where I worked, and I fought hard not to stare at his crossed forearms. “I think I am. When it comes to personal trainers, I’m assuming you are the toughest one out there?”

Not a day had gone by since I was thirteen years old when I hadn’t had a huge, embarrassing crush on this man. I’d known him since we were kids, thanks to his friendship with Josh. As soon as I started noticing boys, I noticed him. I flashed him a smirk and racked my brain for a fun, cute response. My tongue always tended to tie itself in knots when he was around. “I guess you will have to show up and find out.”

Don’t wink. Don’t wink. Don’t wink.

I mentally congratulated myself for that line. It was almost flirty and not a total train wreck, and I hadn’t topped it up with a cringy wink. “Go ahead and get changed, I’ll meet you in the gym in five.” As he retreated towards the changing room, I not-so-subtly leaned over the counter to watch his ass walk away. I considered myself a bad-ass bitch. Being bullied as a kid led to an interest in MMA, and I was currently training for my first real fight. Well, amateur real fight, but still. The audience would be smaller, but it was still going to occupy every aspect of my life for the next three months.

I helped Malice MMA owner Nate keep this place up and running. Even Superman had kryptonite, though. And I was going to have to train mine.