Blindsided (The Fighter Series Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  Warning

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  About Author

  Harper Bentley-Gable

  TC Matson

  Acknowledgments

  Teagbag…I love you! Plain and simple! As soul sisters, I wish we lived closer together. Thank you for the encouragement to push forward. You’re my biggest cheerleader.

  Alexa Keith, without you, oh how my life would be boring. Thank you for the wonderful friendship, the endless talks, our therapy sessions to keep us both off the ledge, and our morning cheers. I look forward to many more!

  Harper Bentley, you inspire me to be a better writer. The amount of support, the wisdom you’ve shared, and the laughs we’ve had…I couldn’t ask for a more exceptional person to call my friend. Love you gobs! “He screamed like a girl!”

  To all my readers: Without you, I wouldn’t do this. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

  Special Thanks To…

  Bedroom Bookworms

  Kez’s Korner

  Lilian’s Author’s Blog

  For The Love of Books and Alcohol

  Anne Mercier-Author of the Rockstar Series

  Amy Donnelly-She’s a jack of all trades which includes: Editing, Formating, Cover Art, Graphics, etc.

  Copyright © 2015 TC Matson

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permissions of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at [email protected]

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, whether living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figment’s of the authors imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. The author recognizes the trademarks and copyrights of all registered products and works mentioned within this work.

  Cover Design by: © L.J. Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations

  Editing by: Amanda Brown

  ***Warning***

  This book contains graphic sexually explicit content and intense violence that could be disagreeable or distressing to readers. The content is intended for mature readers only.

  Chapter 1

  Sometimes I wonder why the hell I stay at this job. Table four has me running all over the place knowing damn well they won’t tip me much, and table three is a very prude woman who rolls her eyes every time I stop to check in on her. I guess she thinks because she’s in a business suit with her hair up in too tight a bun, I should be intimidated. She clearly thinks she’s of some high-ranking importance to me. She’s wrong. She’s just another customer. Someone I serve but don’t care to ever see again. Smile and be polite though…unfortunately, this is my job.

  It’s almost time to go. I can’t wait to get the heck out of here although the restaurant has been moderately lively today, which is great for my pockets. Blain is going to take me out to eat for my twenty-fourth birthday since we didn’t get to celebrate it yesterday. He worked his normal eight-to-five shift at the animal hospital and I had to pull doubles. So by the time I got home, I was wiped out.

  The rumble of Blain’s sleek black Camaro catches everyone’s attention as he pulls up alongside the curb, parking directly in front of the large window of the restaurant. It’s his usual spot when he picks me up. He does it on purpose. It’s the macho, catch any unsuspecting single woman’s attention, hidden egotistical conceited personality of his.

  “Sheesh,” Holly exhales. “I can’t ever get sick of seeing him.” She drops her elbow to the counter, resting her head on her fist, staring at him.

  “Oh, I can,” I quip.

  She rolls her eyes and pushes off the counter crossing her arms. “I just can’t understand why you two haven’t done anything. You’re probably the don’t kiss and tell type. If I had a chance with him, I’d hang that shit on a billboard.”

  I’ve worked with Holly for a year or so, and believe me when I tell you I’ve had this conversation with her way too many times. Regardless of what I say, she never believes me. I stop wrapping the silverware abruptly and look up to her, narrowing my eyes. “Picture yourself sleeping with your brother. His hands rubbing all over you. His tongue in your mouth. Do you scream his name when he—”

  “Disgusting!” she squeals laughing.

  “Well, Blain is like my brother.”

  She scrunches up her nose and shakes her head. “Point taken. Maybe one day I’ll be able to find out about him myself.” She wags her eyebrows.

  The thought makes me laugh. She’s nowhere close to being Blain’s type. Not that he has a particular type—he’s liable to screw just about anything—but I’m quite sure the gothic, extra curvy girl is not what he’s looking for. “Maybe.” I shrug knowing damn well he would never be interested in her.

  “Speaking of hotties, did you see the one at table twelve today? I could barely serve him. His hotness took my body over.” She over-dramatically rolls her eyes running her hands down the curve of her hips.

  Nothing comes to mind—nothing that would make me have a thought-induced orgasm like she just had. I shake my head and grab for the last silverware I have to wrap.

  “I hope he comes back soon. Omigod, he was surrounded by good looks and no women. Do you know what that means?” Holly grabs my shoulders, staring me down with her soft brown eyes that are wide with aspiration. “I have a chance!”

  “Well,” I giggle, “let me know the next time he comes in and I’ll make sure I tell him you’re wet and waiting.” I wink, untying my apron and tossing it in the corner under the counter as I make my way toward the exit. There’s no looking back today. The heck with today!

  I smile at Blain as I slide into the leather seat that’s cold as hell from the air conditioning blasting on it. “Hey. How was your day?” I ask putting on my seatbelt.

  He smirks then slams his precious “baby” in gear, forcing me back into the seat. He chuckles as I roll my eyes. He’s such a show off.

  “Good,” he finally answers at the red light mere feet from the spot his tires squealed away. “Had a dog that was hit by a car come in today and got to see Dr. Aisner do an amputation of its leg. It was phenomenal!”

  I wince at his answer. How can he be so damn excited about bloody gore? I hate hearing about poor animals that come into the hospital hurt, not to mention the disgusting details I have to endure when it happens. Just
as humans need doctors, animals need vets. But I’m a waitress and a bartender—I don’t do blood.

  He pats my knee laughing. “Don’t worry, Paigey. He’s going to be ok. I promise. He’s just short a leg.”

  “Blain!” I shriek straight through his laugh. “That’s not funny. The poor dog could have died and now he has to figure out a way to deal without a leg.”

  His brown shaggy hair shakes from side to side in disbelief. “It’s a wonder you’re not a vegetarian.”

  “What’s that supposed to—”

  His tires screech, shoving me into the leather as the light turns green. Apparently, it’s his politest way of telling me to shut up.

  I know it’s his job to save them but it kills me to hear about hurt animals. Some come in starved, their ribs and spine visible, and some even worse off having to be euthanized. It’s pitiful. If I could rescue them all I would, but I don’t have time to fly through the night and be their super hero. Blain says with the passion I have for animals, I should’ve become a veterinarian, but blood…nope. Yuck! That is total fainting material there!

  Blood has made me queasy since I was a little girl and saw the little neighbor boy fall off his bike and rip open his knee. Blood gushed from it and poured onto the concrete underneath him. Ok, maybe it was just a little scratch, but he cried like it ripped his leg apart. It was really nasty, and I cried with him.

  Dinner was good with little to no graphic details of his job, thank God. He took me to Barges, the best steakhouse this side of the Mississippi, hands down. My belated birthday steak with a baked potato was amazing. The décor makes you feel right at home with brick walls and autographed pictures of various celebrities who have enjoyed items off the menu. The coolest part of the place is the old, light blue VW Bug that looks like it’s smashing through the brick wall. They even have extra bricks on the floor to give it some added intent. The place is so cool.

  Now we’re back home, stuffed to the gills, and have settled into the living room. He’s sprawled out on the couch and I’m curled up on the love seat watching the highlights on ESPN, wishing I could change the channel. Back in high school, Blain was a fullback and had scouts from all over the place begging him to join their college teams. I know in my heart he could have gone pro, but his love for animals outweighed his passion for football. He decided not to pursue it, becoming a veterinarian assistant instead. As I brought up my curiosity throughout the years, he’s assured me he made the right decision. He says concussions, cramps, torn ACLs, and vigorous dieting regimens don’t appeal to him. I have to agree.

  Let me clear one thing up for you—we only live together, nothing more. We’ve lived together since we graduated high school five years ago. It’s worked out so far. I like having a man in the house, although some of the girls he likes to bring around stir my interest of living single. I wish a woman would come into his life and settle him down. He’s a great guy and needs a great girl. But, whatever…I’ll just have to sit back and wait…impatiently.

  Although we live together, he stays in the basement. I know that sounds crazy when I say it, but it’s very nice. It has everything the top floor has except a kitchen. It even includes a front door; however, he’s become accustomed to barging in mine. I enjoy the fact we have two separate living areas. I don’t have to share my space other than the kitchen, and he can decorate his part with all his manly crap never interfering with my more feminine features.

  The most annoying chirp a phone can make interrupts my thoughts. Blain sits up and grabs it off the table. Almost instantly his lips curl as he looks up apologetically. “I’ve got company coming.”

  “Great,” I dead pan. “Which one this time?”

  He hesitates for a moment, but then her name spills from his mouth. “Leslie.”

  He’s such a man-whore! “She’s so damn annoying, Blain. You can do so much better.”

  “Not in the sack,” he responds quickly.

  “Ewww! Gross! I don’t need that image in my mind.”

  He chuckles leaning back into the couch and focuses again on the TV. I’m not naïve, though. His wheels are turning.

  “She’s really nice though. You’ve never given her a chance.”

  Told you he was pondering something.

  “Um, hello? The first time I met her I walked in on her giving you a BJ. I can’t look at her anymore without seeing her cheeks full.” I puff out my cheeks mimicking a full mouth.

  Blain jerks up slapping his knee. “I wish you could have seen your face!”

  “I’m trying to forget yours!” I squeal but not without a chuckle.

  I swear it’s taken ten minutes to finally catch our breaths, when he stands wiping his tears of laughter from under his eyes. “Well, I’m heading to the bottom. Love ya, sis.”

  “Love ya too,” I say fumbling to capture the remote he precisely tossed at my chest. Good thing I caught it before it hit me. I playfully glare at him, silently reminding him it wasn’t a football.

  He chuckles then quietly shuts the door behind him.

  Chapter 2

  Bacon. It’s what makes my eyes bolt open. The smell wraps around my sleep-induced brain and pulls me out of the bed. I pad down the hallway and enter the kitchen where Blain has ear buds in, his head bouncing to the music as he cooks. He’s in a pair of blue gym shorts and no shirt. He’s built like a brick shit house with a kickass personality. Add that to good looks, and he can bring home all the girls he wants.

  It’s not unusual to see him cooking breakfast. It’s his favorite meal of the day and since he doesn’t have a kitchen, he has to share his beloved meal with me. When I grab my mug and pour my coffee, he smiles tenderly but doesn’t remove the music in his ears and turns his attention back to scrambling the eggs. I flop into the chair at the table, and take a sip of the soothing hot liquid. I slept like shit. That damn dog. I wrestled with sleep last night, worrying about how the poor thing had to learn to do things with one less leg.

  Blain slides a plate of bacon, eggs and sausage in front of me, ripping me away from my heartbreaking thought of the poor pup. Dropping down across from me, he pops his ear buds out and begins devouring his heaping pile. I think a shovel would serve him better.

  “Doubles tonight?” he mumbles with a mouthful.

  “Yeah. Jim isn’t letting me off Fridays and Saturdays for a little while. He says since I’m his best, he wants his best to have his best. So, don’t wait up for me.” I shrug then point my fork at him. “And don’t talk with food in your mouth. Didn’t your mother teach you anything?”

  He smirks popping another piece of bacon into his mouth. I tilt my head to the side and give him a tight smile with matching eyes. There…that will teach him.

  “Oh. My. God. Paige!” Holly freezes in her tracks grabbing my elbow.

  “What?” I ask, half caring what has her attention at the front of the restaurant. She gets excited if the trees blow the right way.

  “It’s him. It’s the hottie from yesterday,” she quietly squeals in delight.

  She looks starstruck with her head titled slightly to the side and her thin lips parted. Any minute drool will start dripping down her chin if she doesn’t come back to reality. It’s probably some man who resembles Brad Pitt. The young Brad Pitt was hot, now he’s…eh—age hasn’t helped him at all and she likes the “old” Brad.

  “He’s in your section. Can I have that table? Please,” she begs putting her hands together as if she’s praying. “I’ll give you tips from two tables. Please, please, let me have this one.”

  Ok, now she has me quite interested. I follow her animated stare to my section and instantly my heart skips a beat.

  Holy hell, she’s right.

  Pulling my shoulders back, I turn to her and give her a wicked smirk. “Get a grip. I’m not giving up my table. Eat your heart out,” I say feeling cocky and sauntering out toward the men.

  My heart is pounding, brutally banging against my rib cage as I approach the two men. The man in the
blue shirt curls the corner of his lips as his eyes wander up and down my body. His jet-black hair is styled into a faux hawk and a plain shirt is molded against his robust chest. Hell, fact of the matter is, he’s all muscles. My breath halts along with my feet when our eyes meet. I’m stuck frozen, locked in with the most mesmerizing, most extraordinary royal blues I’ve ever seen.

  I force my eyes away from their death grip and smile. “Hey guys. I’m Paige. What can I get for you today?”

  “Well hello, Paige, I’m Levi,” he says with a twist of arrogance, putting his hand out for me to shake.

  I pause for a moment, stupefied by the attraction of his tattoos that wrap around his wrist, traveling upward, and disappearing underneath the stretched seams of his t-shirt. Nervously, I smile back putting my small hand into his. Immediately, I melt in the spot where I’m standing. Pins and needles run along my spine, shooting sparks down to my curled toes. My breath is all but gone as a thirst for him tugs an ache between my thighs that I haven’t felt in years.

  Holy hell.

  Like he’s felt the instant goo I’ve become, he chuckles and nods his head. “And this is Adam.”

  Who?

  I pull my hand from his and turn my attention to the other man. Adam’s brown eyes are tender with a touch of confident passion, and from the looks of his disheveled light brown hair, he partied way too hard last night. Or he didn’t care enough to brush it this morning.

  I swallow hard and conceal a deep breath trying to compose myself. “What can I get for you two?” I repeat.

  “Water and a turkey sandwich,” Levi says handing me the menu with a concrete stare. It’s like he’s studying me, watching my every move, enjoying every sensation my body is experiencing. I pray he isn’t seeing exactly what I’m feeling.