Magnetic God (The Defiant God Brotherhood Book 2)

Chapter 1. Then

Hannah

“I’m sorry. You want me to go where?” I ask, not bothering to hide my laugh.

My best friend, Jessica, looks insulted that I’m laughing at her. We’re standing outside the classroom of the only course we have together this term. When she said she needed to talk, I thought she was going to ask for notes or something. Not this.

“It’s not funny.”

“It kind of is.”

“No, it’s not.” She pushes her blonde hair over her shoulder. “My brother has two extra tickets. Said we can tag along just so they don’t go to waste.”

“Yeah, I heard you say all that the first time. What I don’t get is why you want to go and why you think I want to go.”

“Hear me out. I need you to go to be my wing woman. And I don’t really want to go, but Matt is going to be there…” She gets a dreamy look in her green eyes. “This will be the first time we get to hang out.”

“Jess, this is nuts for so many reasons. One, your brother is going to be there, which is who Matt will be hanging out with. Two, you don’t even watch wrestling. Three, I have no desire to go.”

“You watch it, though, or used to!”

“Yeah, when I was nine and trying to impress one of my mom’s boyfriends.”

Little good it did, I think bitterly. I was left with yet another shattered dream and a drawer full of wrestling figures that I never played with again. The kicker is that mom ended up marrying the next guy she dated, changing our lives forever.

Jess’ gaze narrows. “Hannah, you wore a wrestling t-shirt in our fourth-grade class photo and used to walk around quoting different wrestlers.”

“Again, that was like ten years ago!”

“Please,” she begs. “Please, please, please.”

Each word is drawn out, causing a dull ache behind my eyes.

“Jess, I have class tomorrow.”

“We won’t be out late.”

I roll my eyes. “Shows how much you know. The TV taping won’t even be over until eleven, and then we’ll still have to get out of the arena. It’ll be at least one before I get home.”

“Hannah, please.”

“For the love of god. Stop saying please and I’ll go.”

She throws her arms around me. “You are the best! I knew I could count on you! We’ll pick you up at six so we can head downtown.”

She bounces away before I have time to change my mind. Smart girl, really.

I should probably call her and tell her no as soon as I get to my dorm room. Instead, I grab my travel toiletry basket and take a quick shower in the shared bathroom before going back to my room to change into jeans and a black shirt that makes my boobs look good and manages to hide my pudgy stomach at the same time. Sometimes it’s hard not to wish that I was as thin as Jess, but I’ve slowly started to love my body, especially since starting college, where I now have the freedom to wear what I want without facing massive guilt trips.

Those guilt trips were always courtesy of my mother and her husband, Pastor Jeremiah Sullivan, who firmly believes that women should wear modest clothing, like long skirts and dresses. Definitely not jeans or, god forbid, shorts or a skirt. I still think about the time my mother tore through my closet until she found the shorts I had hidden and threw them in the fireplace. I was seventeen at the time, and they weren’t even that short.

No! I’m not going to think about them. Not today.

Instead, I focus on straightening my shoulder-length blonde hair with the flat iron. Where Jess’ hair is a darker blonde, mine is on the platinum side, and it’s all natural. Believe me, I’ve been asked more than once if it’s my real hair color. I keep my make-up simple since I’m not trying to impress anyone. My aqua eyes are bright today. As much as I want to downplay this, I can admit that I’m excited about going to the show. Wrestling was always so much fun to watch. I mean, it’s basically a soap opera targeted at men instead of women. Good storylines and beautiful people. What more can a person ask for in a show? Tilting my head, I make a silly face at my reflection. I’ll never admit it to Jess, though.

Two hours later, Jess and I follow her brother, Peter, and his best friend, Matt, into the Dickies Arena. We’re running a bit behind, but only because it took forever to find a parking spot that didn’t cost an arm and a leg. Parking in Fort Worth is the worst, but not as bad as Dallas. I shudder, even thinking about it.

Peter says, “Matt and I are going to grab a beer. Do y’all want a soda or water?”

“Water is fine,” I answer.

Jess puts her hand on her hip. “Peter, you better not get shitfaced. I don’t know how to drive your truck and I don’t want to have to call Mom or Dad to come and get us.”

Peter’s cheeks turn pink, probably because his sister just told on him, because the exact scenario happened a few weeks ago when the two went to a party together. I was supposed to go with them but ended up being guilted into going to my mom’s house for a family dinner. Obviously, I chose poorly.

Peter hisses, “I’m not going to get wasted, Jessica.”

“Sure you’re not. I’ll be sure to tell that to Mom when she has to rescue us. Again.”

“Stop acting like you haven’t done shit. I distinctly remember having to go with Dad to fix your car when you hit the curb and fucked up two of your tires.”

Jess’ cheeks turn pink. She opens her mouth to reply, and I bite back a groan. There’s nothing worse than a sibling argument, especially in public.

Matt swoops in and says, “Guys, simple solution. Hannah can drive us home if we have more than one drink. It’s not the end of the world.”

“Gee, thanks.” But I guess that’s safer than letting their drunk asses drive us.

They’re already looking at the menu for the concession stand, as if they knew I wouldn’t say no. That’s my fault for always being so easy-going, but it’s been beaten into me from an early age. Good girls are mild and meek and do whatever it takes to make things easier on everyone. Yeah, right.

Jess grabs my arm, pulling me to the side.

“You need to lure my brother away.”

“Lure your brother away? What in the crap does that mean?”

“Tell him you want to look at merchandise.” Her eyes light up. “Better yet. Tell him you want to find our seats since the show is about the start.”

“Let me guess. While I do that, you and Matt will spend some quality time together in the concession line?”

“Bingo.”

I snort. “I don’t know if your plan will work, but I’ll give it a go.”

“You are the best.”

“I know.”

I follow her back to the guys, who are just getting in line.

“Hey Peter?”

He looks up from his phone. “Yeah?”

“Do you know where our seats are?”

“Of course.”

“Isn’t the show starting soon?”

He must look at the clock on his phone because he says, “Shit. It is.”

“Maybe we should go find our seats and let Jess and Matt get the drinks.” I go in for the kill. “I mean, what if someone thinks we aren’t coming and are in our seats?”

His eyes widen and he turns to Matt. “You cool if I go secure our seats?”

“Go ahead man. Jess and I can get the drinks.”

“You have the e-tickets on your phone, right?”

Matt checks and nods. “Yup.”

“Good. See you in there.”

They do some kind of bro-handshake that makes me snort. Jess shoots me a look of thanks as Peter and I exit the food line.

Peter leads the way to the section where our seats are, and we enter the main part of the arena. I wasn’t kidding when I said someone might try to sit in our chairs. The show starts in ten minutes, and most everyone is already in their spots.

Peter speaks to an attendant, showing her his phone. She nods and points.

“This way, Han.”

I follow him down the stairs, to the floor level, right to the front row.

“Front row. I’m impressed.”

And I really am. I know these seats cost a lot of money.

Peter says, “My boss gave them to me for being such an outstanding employee. Didn’t cost me a thing.”

Okay, that makes more sense since Peter is super cheap and has the same struggle as me, living on a college student’s budget. I’m sure these seats cost two-hundred dollars each. Maybe even more. Our seats are right in the middle of the row and people have to stand so we can get to them.

In front of us is the black barricade and beyond that is the wrestling ring.

I say, “This is pretty cool.”

“Agreed.” He throws his arm over the back of my seat, glaring at a man who was looking our way. “This was a good idea, by the way. Securing our seats.”

I bite back a grin and nod. Looks like my plan worked just the way I wanted.

Peter and I make idle chitchat until Jess and Matt walk up, carrying a drink in each hand.

Jess says, “Hannah, you’re going to be happy.”

“Why?”

“They have a ton of t-shirts at the merchandise table.” Her eyes dance with mischievousness.

I laugh. “Pass. I wouldn’t even know whose shirt to buy anymore.”

Matt takes his seat, reaching around me to hand Peter a beer, and says, “That’s easy. There’s the Bishop Brothers or Laughing Larry.”

Somehow, we ended up sitting like we’re coupled up. Peter, me, Matt, and Jess. Jess catches my gaze, grinning. Well, at least someone is happy with the seating arrangement. I would much rather be sitting next to my bestie, but whatever.

Peter chimes in, “Those are all the good guys. The heels are where it’s at.”

“Heels?” Jess asks.

“The bad guys,” we all answer at the same time.

I hate that I even remember that much.

Peter says, “The biggest heel is Brooks the Body McGruff. He’s on his way to be the next main eventer.”

“Never heard of him,” I say.

Peter sighs, like I just said I didn’t know who the President was.

“That’s him.”

He’s pointing to the massive screen next to the stage where a promo is playing to hype up attendees for the event.

Oh, my good god.

The man on the screen is freaking gorgeous. Like panty-melting gorgeous. If the stats on the screen are true, he’s 6’6, weighing in at two-hundred fifty pounds. It’s all muscle, too. He’s wearing classic black trunks with matching black wrestling boots, which means all of his body is on display. His sun kissed skin is covered in ink. I have to resist fanning myself. I love a man with tattoos. My gaze travels upward. His hair is dark brown and hangs just past his ears. His eyes are a piercing shade of blue, surrounded by thick lashes. I’ve never seen such long lashes on a guy before.

“Earth to Hannah. Are you going to drool over the man all night long?” Jess asks, laughing.

I blink, realizing that I probably was staring like a fool.

My cheeks heat as I say, “You’re the one who wanted me to come. You should be glad I’m getting into it.”

She shrugs, knowing I’m right, and leans into Matt, saying something that makes him laugh. Hopefully, they hit it off in the concession line.

At seven on the dot, the show starts. Both Peter and Matt are super into it, jumping up and cheering for their favorites during their matches. Jess spends most of her time on her phone. Not me, though. I’m surprised at how interested I am in the matches. Like, I haven’t watched wrestling since I was a kid, and yet here I am getting into it. I even almost cheer at the end of a match featuring all women wrestlers.

After their match, the stage is set for the main event. The announcers hype up the crowd. This is the best part about going to a live event. The energy in the arena is off the charts now. This is the moment that everyone has been waiting for. Loud music plays as the current heavyweight champion, Laughing Larry, walks down to the ring. It feels like the entire arena cheers for him. He jogs down the ramp, sliding into the ring. A ref tosses him a microphone and he launches into an animated speech about being the best in the company and how no one is going to take the belt from him. Just when he’s really getting into it, the lights in the arena dim right before pyros explode.

A shadowed figure stands on the stage as more pyros go off. Slowly, he turns and the crowd boos as they see that it’s Brooks McGruff. His pace is slow and calculated on his way to the ring. He’s in no hurry and wants everyone to know. A warm fuzzy feeling settles in my stomach just from watching him move.

Jesus. He’s even more stunning in person.

When he finally gets in the ring, he stares down his opponent before muttering something. Whatever it is takes the smile right off of Laughing Larry’s face and he shoves at Brooks, pushing him backward. The bell dings as the match starts and the two dive right in. The crowd is on their feet, watching as the two men go back and forth for the next twenty minutes.

Just when it looks like Laughing Larry is about to win, Brooks climbs to the top turnbuckle and soars through the air, landing on Larry. The ref counts to three and Brooks is the winner. He stands, motioning for a guy outside of the ring to hand him a microphone. Instead, one lowers from the ceiling. It’s vintage, reminding me of something someone like Elvis would sing on, and looks like the tattoo on Brooks’ bicep.

“Well, well, well. Looks like Laughing Larry isn’t laughing so much right now, is he?” He puts his boot on Larry’s chest. “Guess that’s what happens when the world realizes that you’re nothing more than a joke.”

The crowd boos, disagreeing with him, but he grins, eating it up.

“Hear that, Larry? The fans are onto you. It’s only a matter of time before you’re yesterday’s news. Good thing I have a solution.”

Larry tries to stand, but falls back with a loud groan. Brooks laughs, shaking his head.

“Pathetic.” He leans down. “I’m letting you and the world know that I’m coming for your title. When I win, you’ll become a joke in more ways than one.”

Laughing Larry finally stands before stumbling out of the ring. The fans who were booing moments ago now chant Brooks’ name. I grin. Guess some things never change in pro-wrestling. The fans love a good screw job.

Brooks stands in the middle of the ring until Laughing Larry walks up the ramp and through the curtains. Brooks waits a beat before letting go of the microphone and going to the corner turnbuckle to the left of us, climbing to the second rope. He looks over the crowd, soaking in the fans’ chants. Caught up in the excitement, I jump to my feet. Peter stands too, yelling Brooks’ name at the top of his lungs. I’d laugh at him, but don’t. Because I can’t stop looking at Brooks.

He’s a beautiful specimen and his photos don’t do him justice. Sweat makes his skin glow. It should probably revolt me, but it sends another surge of need right to my core. I also have a strange desire to lick his chest. Illicit images flicker through my mind, making that surge of need turn into a tidal wave that makes me clench my thighs together.

Brooks hops down and makes his way to the ring post nearest to us. He climbs up, looking over the crowd. From my vantage point, he looks almost godlike. Larger than life.

And then his gaze lands on me.

Holy fuck.

A jolt of electricity swells through me. His lips lift into a slow smile, as if he knows what he’s doing to me and likes it. The crowd continues to cheer for him as he flexes. His gaze never leaves mine, entrapping me. Making me ache for something that doesn’t make sense. Like, I don’t know this man. Period. Why am I having this kind of reaction to him?

Peter throws his arm around my shoulder, shaking me. “Holy shit! He’s looking right at us!”

Brooks’ gaze narrows, making me want to shake Peter’s arm from me. He jumps down, going to the next turnbuckle, his back to me. I feel…dismissed, and I’m not sure why.

Peter, whose arm is still around me, yells, “Did you see that? Fucking Brooks the Body is going for the championship belt!”

“Yeah, I saw.”

I sit, unsure why I’m feeling like I’ve done something wrong.

And what in the crap was that?

The eye contact.

The sizzling feeling as if he knew me.

I pause. Maybe that’s it. Maybe he thinks I’m someone else. As much as I’d hate to admit it, it would make the most sense.

Brooks makes his journey to the last turnbuckle before jumping out of the ring and making his way backstage. The letdown that I feel is shocking, but I don’t have time to dwell on it because Peter reaches around me, grabbing Matt’s arm.

“Bro, we have to hit the merch stand before we go!”

Matt is just as enthused as Peter. “Hell yeah! Let’s go!”

Even Jess seems to be swept away in the excitement.

“I hope they have a shirt in pink!”

I follow the three silently as I try to gather my composure. So what if Brooks looked at me? It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.