Fighting: Fighting for Forever Part 17

She looks up at me, shock registering on her gorgeous face. "Is he serious?"

I run a hand through her thick silky hair. "He f.u.c.kin' better be."

Layla approaches cautiously. "Hey, I'm sorry. I could've handled that better. If you had any idea how many times I've had to come face-to-face with someone my husband has seen naked . . ." She shakes her head, laughing, then sets apologetic eyes on Trix. "I blame the breastfeeding hormones."

The tension in the room dissipates and a couple of people even chuckle.

Raven steps up to us, grinning. "I saw you dance that night, when Jonah and I came to find Blake. You're really good."

Trix shrugs and I feel her skin heat against my arm. "Thanks."

"Can I just ask you one thing?" Raven says.

"Of course."

"Did you know a girl named Candy who used to work at Zeus's?"

Trix nods. "Yeah, I did. She was a real b.i.t.c.h. We used to put Tabasco sauce in her pasties."

Everyone bursts into laughter, and Raven pulls Trix in for a side hug. "Yeah, I knew I liked you."

Layla joins in, and Gia follows until Trix is tangled in the arms of three women.

"What the h.e.l.l did we miss?" Cameron's voice commands our attention.

"Just me getting my a.s.s chewed. Nothing new." Blake throws back a healthy gulp from his beer.

Eve's at Cam's side, her brows pinched in confusion as she takes in my woman, who has just won over Raven and Layla.

My woman.

Sixteen.

Mason "How is it?" I fork a piece of steak into my mouth and chew through my smile.

From the second we entered Patrico's, I've been captivated by her. At first, I could tell she was nervous, and when she whispered that she'd never been to a restaurant as nice as this one, I felt equal parts pride and anger. How a woman as beautiful and sweet as she is hasn't been wined and dined to the point of boredom is beyond me.

She closes her eyes as she chews, and my gaze fixes on her long slender throat when she swallows. "That's the best thing I've ever tasted."

I take a pull off my beer that's in some fancy-a.s.s frosty gla.s.s. "I can't believe you've never had lobster before. Figured a San Jose girl would've at least given it a try."

Her cheeks pink and she ducks her chin. "We were more of a bologna and mayo family."

Dammit. I shove another bite of steak into my mouth to keep from reinserting my foot. Of course, she wouldn't have had lobster.

She takes a long sip of her white wine and sets her eyes on me. "What about you? I bet you were raised on expensive dinners."

I set down my fork and lean back in my chair, a little embarra.s.sed that I'm that easy to read. "My dad's a plastic surgeon, and after the divorce, my mom moved us to Santa Cruz. We lived more of a modest life there, but he was always good about making sure I didn't want for much."

"How old were you when your parents got divorced?"

"Four. Drake was barely walking." I shift in my chair, suddenly feeling suffocated by the conversation. "See . . . Drake and I don't have the same dad, but my own father didn't know that until well after D was born."

"Yikes, that must've been hard on your dad."

"I'm sure it was, but he made her suffer for it. Always took good care of me financially, while my mom and Drake were sc.r.a.ping by. Kind of a d.i.c.k move if you ask me."

"Drake's dad didn't help out?"

"His dad is the reason my brother can't keep himself out of trouble, and no, he never sent money for Drake. I funneled my allowance to them when my dad gave me one, but between that and my mom's random part-time jobs, they struggled."

"Gosh, that's so sad." She pushes around some food on her plate. "So, Drake's dad and your mom didn't end up together. I wonder why she did it in the first place."

I grind my molars together. "Women can't resist the bad boy."

She nods and tilts her head, studying me. "Ya know, I've been around my share of bad boys, and they're not all they're cracked up to be." A shy smile curves her lips. "I prefer the sweet ones who might knock you on your b.u.t.t in dark hallways, but know how to apologize."

My lips twitch with a goofy grin. "Yeah?"

"Yep." She stabs another meaty piece with her fork. "Okay, so you may've had lobster in the past." Her elbow propped on the table, she offers the bite to me. "But you've never had lobster fed to you by an exotic dancer, have you?"

I lean in, wanting so badly to knock the tiny table that stands between us away. "No, I never have."

Her pink tongue darts out to moisten her upper lip, and she pushes the juicy piece toward my lips.

I take it from her fork and groan as the rich b.u.t.tery flavor bursts against my tongue. "Mmm." Delicious.

"Good, right?"

"Phenomenal, although it's not nearly as tasty as you."

Her lips part, and her chest rises and falls a little quicker.

"That spot." I tilt my head and nod in the direction of her throat. "Right there just below your earlobe. It's like nothing I've ever tasted in my life."

"Mason . . ."

"I'm hoping, for dessert, you'll let me-" We're interrupted by a man who strolls up to our table. He doesn't speak, but stares at Trix until she drops her gaze to her lap and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "Is there something I can do for you?"

The guy is dressed in a suit, flashy watch, and if I had to guess, I'd say he's in his late forties. "Excuse me." His gaze finally swings to me. "I hate to interrupt."

Maybe he's a UFL fan? Someone in the business who recognizes me from my last fight?

I choose to ignore his greeting, because frankly, I don't excuse his interruption.

"I was having dinner across the restaurant with a colleague of mine and thought I recognized . . ."

Yep, UFL fan.

His head swivels to Trix. ". . . your date."

Trix's eyes are like saucers as she stares up at him.

"You're a dancer at Zeus's, right?"

She flicks a peek at me, and whatever she sees in my expression has her curling in on herself. "Yes, I am."

My muscles tense, pulse throbbing in my neck. I push out of my seat, snagging the guy's attention. "You mind stepping outside with me for a second, partner."

He looks confused for a second then holds up his hands in surrender. "No, I don't want any trouble. I just wanted to come by and introduce myself." He shoves his hand in my direction, almost every one of his meaty fingers ringed with gold. "Mitch Deeds. I'm the CEO of Fetish Television."

My fists clench. A f.u.c.king p.o.r.n producer approaching my girl while we're on a date? Nope. Not happening.

I step up into his s.p.a.ce and try like h.e.l.l to say what needs to be said without embarra.s.sing Trix any more than I need to. "Listen, f.u.c.kface. You're going to turn around right this motherf.u.c.king second and walk away, you hear me?"

"You misunderstand. I've seen her dance and she's got talent. With those moves, she could make millions on screen." He steps back and tries to look at Trix to address her, but I catch his chubby f.u.c.king chin in my hand.

"Don't f.u.c.king look at her."

"Mason, it's okay," Trix says, her voice shaky with emotion.

"If I could just leave my card-"

I grip the a.s.shole by his suit jacket and drag him the few yards to the front of the restaurant. The hostess sees me coming and opens the tall gla.s.s door, probably to avoid me shattering it when I toss this f.u.c.ker's body through it. Two steps outside and I shove the p.r.i.c.k with enough force that he lands on his a.s.s.

"Stay the f.u.c.k away from her," I growl and turn around, pa.s.sing the slack-jawed hostess. "We'll take our check."

Once back at the table, I find Trix visibly shaken. Her gaze darts around the room, and her earlier confidence is non-existent. She looks terrified.

I move to her and pull her from her seat and into my arms. "I'm so sorry."

Her body melts into my hold. "It's not your fault, Mason." The defeat in her voice makes my chest tight. "I'm sorry I embarra.s.sed you."

I release her enough to get her eyes. "You could never embarra.s.s me, Trix. Ever. Nothing makes me feel more proud than to show up with you on my arm. I don't love what you do for work, but you deserve respect at all times and from all people, and what that f.u.c.ker did tonight was unacceptable."

A few women pa.s.s by us, whispering something about purple hair. Trix watches them pa.s.s before peering up at me with watery eyes. "I'd like to go home now."

f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.hes. I glare at the women, silencing them immediately.

"Of course." I grab her purse, hook her around the shoulders and lead her to the hostess, who has our bill.

"Would you like me to box up your leftovers, Mr. Mahoney?" she says in true kiss-a.s.s form.

"No." I shove cash at her and hold Trix close until the valet pulls up with my truck.

This night was supposed to be perfect for her, and instead of feeling like a d.a.m.n queen on a throne, she was made to feel like she was wearing a big fat scarlet "A" on her chest.

That was not the plan.

I pull the truck from the restaurant, vowing to never go back there again. Trix is turned with her chin resting in the palm of her hand, staring out the window.

"Did you get enough to eat?" We'd only had a few bites of our food before that d.i.c.khead ruined it.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Her voice sounds almost robotic.

She's far from fine.

And I've seen the girl eat. No way two bites of lobster is going to fill her up. I pull onto the freeway on-ramp.

"This date stuff isn't as fun as I imagined it would be." Her voice is so quiet and directed toward the window, and I can barely figure out if what she said was for me or just her.

"It wasn't ideal, but being with you is all I care about."

She scoffs. "Welcome to the world of dating an exotic dancer."

Is that all she thinks of herself? That her worth is tied to her chosen career? "I'm not dating an exotic dancer. I'm dating you, Beatriks."

She sucks in a quick breath and turns to stare out the front window.

I exit the freeway and pull into a drive through.

She blinks up at the glowing red-and-yellow sign. "You're taking me to In-N-Out Burger?" The spark of a smile twitches her lips.

"I know you're hungry, and this is a date so . . . is that okay?"

"I love In-N-Out."

"Good." And I love doing things she loves. "And this time we're eating at my place where no one can bother you."

"Except you." She lifts one eyebrow.

"That's right. Except me."

Trix As nice as that restaurant was, and d.a.m.n, it was incredible, it wasn't anything compared to the prospect of a couch picnic with Mason. I can't help feeling like s.h.i.t about the way the night has gone. That lobster cost a fortune, and we just left it all there.

That jerk from the p.o.r.n company ruined it all. It's not that I haven't been approached with similar requests in the past, but it's only ever been done at the club. There's nothing worse than finally feeling like you belong, only to have the harsh reminder that you don't shoved right into your face.

And all in front of Mason.

G.o.d, even thinking about it now makes my face flame. He couldn't have been cooler about it. Even when confronted by Blake and Layla, his friends, he stuck up for me. I'm not sure I even deserved that, and yet he was there defending me.

I slip off my shoes and tuck my feet under me with a bag of greasy burgers and fries in my lap. We turn off a few main roads and into a newer part of town where all the strip malls and gas stations aren't more than a few years old.