Fight For Her (MMA Fighter Romance Book 1) by Vanessa Vale

Author:Vanessa Vale [Vale, Vanessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bridger Media
Published: 2017-03-06T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

EMORY

Not used to attractive men waiting for me on my steps, I stopped short as I walked up the sidewalk toward my house. I couldn’t help but ogle the two men sitting there. Gray leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. The other man I’d never met, but was most likely Marco’s uncle. The boy sat on the step above and the family resemblance was strong. Marco’s hands waved in the air, animated and lively as he talked. While the man was focused on his nephew, Gray watched me as I approached and I felt the familiar flutter at the sight of him. I was becoming used to the sensation and I wasn’t afraid of it any longer. He was so relaxed, so at ease. So flippin’ hot. And he was here for me. Watching me. Taking a deep breath, I walked toward them once again. His dark eyes raked over me, from my work clogs, my scrubs and to my messy ponytail. I could only imagine what he thought of me dressed like this, in the outfit I considered man-repellant.

Gray stood, slipped his hands in his pockets. Once he saw me, Marco’s uncle got to his feet as well. Marco, too, only after a gentle nudge on the head.

“Hi, Miss Emory!” Marco’s youthful exuberance had him knocking the men out of the way and jumping down three steps to give me a hug. The other men held back, clearly having learned about boundaries unlike the boy, although I wouldn’t have minded if Gray grabbed me so eagerly. Over Marco’s head, I glanced up at him. His eyes gave away nothing about his feelings, but I hoped to discover them once we were alone.

I looked down at Marco’s upturned face. “Hello. Have you been busy?” It was impossible not to smile at him.

His hair was mussed and his cheeks were flushed. He wore shorts, T-shirt and sneakers once again. After spending the day in a well air-conditioned hospital, the air was hot and muggy. Already after seven, the temperature hadn’t dropped out of the eighties.

“I’m Frank, Marco’s uncle.”

The man came down the two steps at a much more sedate pace than his nephew and held out his hand, smiling. About six foot, he had the same black, curly hair as Marco, yet his eyes were a pale blue. The contrast was quite striking with his olive complexion. Standing next to Gray, he was lanky, long legged, yet fit. He had the perfect build for a rower. I put him in his late twenties and with his wicked smile, I could only imagine he had to fight off the ladies.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I replied. His grip was firm, his eyes were kind. He did not have an accent like his father, so I had to assume he was born here.

“We have your lights replaced and your dinner is in that bag.” He pointed to a large brown grocery sack sitting by the front door. “While my father couldn’t be here, he asked me to give you his contact information.

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