Blake: A Bad Boy Romance (4 page)

Chapter Six

Ivy flipped through the channels, skimming past the available entertainment at midnight on a Saturday. Her father and Ellen had gone to bed hours ago and Blake had retreated to his room not long after dinner. Ivy sat back on the couch and stopped at a
Law & Order
re-run, trying to figure out what year it had been filmed by the actors’ hairstyles.

“You know, on
Law & Order
they make it seem like people stumble over dead bodies every day.” Ivy whipped her head around to see a shirtless Blake standing in doorway to the living room. “Every time I go to get a cup of coffee I expect to see a body and I’m always a little disappointed when it doesn’t happen.”

“You’re disappointed when you don’t find a dead body?” Ivy demanded, ordering her eyes to stay on his face.

“Not anyone I know or anything,” Blake said as he walked into the living room and flopped into her father’s recliner. “I just want to be the extra in the first five minutes. I would find a dead body, call the cops and my job would be over and I would have a great story to tell. I’m just saying,
Law & Order
makes it look like an everyday thing and it’s never happened to me.”

Ivy tried to fight the smile from her face. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the television. But out of the corner of her eye she could see Blake stretched out on the chair. It wasn't fair how he looked without a shirt on. He had a six-pack and strongly defined pectorals all leading to his strong shoulders and then his arms.

“So, what’s been up, Ivy?” Blake asked. “Other than our parents dating, of course.”

Ivy felt herself begin to blush as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Since when was she this nervous around Blake? But then again, he was somehow different than his younger self. He was still cocky, of course, but something else about him was different; Ivy just couldn’t put her finger on it.

“I went to college at UCLA and then got my MBA and now I work for a consulting firm. I’m actually in Seattle now.” For some reason she found she couldn't look at him and she focused on Sam Watterson yelling at a judge on television.

“You know I’m in Seattle, right?” Blake asked, sitting forward in his chair. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because we hadn’t talked since high school,” Ivy said. “We weren’t speaking so I don’t know why I would call you to hang out. Not that I care about high school anymore, it just had been so long, I thought it would be better to leave things the way they were.”

Blake nodded with a frown. “I would have liked to see you,” he answered. “I tried to call you and get in touch, but you never got back to me, which makes me think you
are
mad about prom.”

“I’m twenty-five years old,” Ivy said with a scoff. “I don’t care about that anymore. You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.”

“Fair enough,” he said, putting his hands up. “Want to play the
Law & Order
drinking game? Every time San Watterson is shocked you have to take a shot.”

“You’d be wasted by the first commercial break,” Ivy said, and just like that she was smiling again. Blake could do that, be on her last nerve one moment and have her giggling the next.

“I know you can hold your liquor,” Blake said. He stood up and disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of whiskey and two souvenir shot glasses. He put the glasses on the table and poured two shots just as Sam Watterson said he “couldn’t believe it.” They clinked their glasses together and poured back the shot.

Ivy shook her head as the liquid burned down her throat. “You trying to get me drunk, Blake?” Ivy asked.

“I never really had to try at that,” Blake responded. “You were very good at sneaking your father’s booze out of the house.”

“I got caught more than once,” Ivy said as she tipped another shot into her mouth.

“And you never learned your lesson.”

Ivy could feel the warmth of the whiskey spread through her stomach as her cheeks began to flush. Already she was feeling a little tipsy. “You’re one to talk,” she said, turning to face him. “How many times did you get busted for fighting? I know about the times in school, but how many times did the cops pick you up for it?”

“I never got charged with anything
and
I made a career out of it,” Blake answered. “You might not have heard about me, Ivy. But I’m actually pretty good.”

“At fighting? You’re good at hitting another man?” Ivy countered.

“Yeah,” Blake answered, and then Ivy noticed they were both on the edge of their seats.

They had shifted to get even closer to each other. Their knees were almost touching, but Ivy was worried about what might follow even if a tiny part of them were to touch. She wasn’t sure she could stop herself. She knew there was a line she shouldn’t cross, but she didn't know where that line was. It might be something as innocent as two knees touching that led to her being wrapped up in his arms.

Behind her the show was ending, the credits were rolling and Ivy quickly stood up. “It’s late,” she said. “I should go to bed.” She needed to get out of there before she got more comfortable with him.

“All right,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. Ivy went to her childhood bedroom and closed the door firmly behind her. She crawled into her old twin bed and she tried to calm her beating heart. She needed to keep it together; she still had two more days of dealing with him. She needed to try to keep herself together for two more days. But Blake was so tempting. He was so strong and confident and funny. She had forgotten how much fun it was to be with him. He knew her so well; he knew just what to say to get a reaction from her.

She woke up to him doing push-ups in the living room.

“Really?” she demanded as she stepped over him. Ivy could not function before coffee. Her hair was a mess on her head and she was wearing a set of pajamas with ladybugs on them. Blake was wearing a pair of loose fitting gym shorts and a tight, black, sleeveless shirt.

“Gotta stay in good shape,” Blake said even though he was short of breath as he continued to pump out push-ups. “But I love to work out to an audience if that’s what you're into.”

“Yeah,” Ivy said, crossing her arms. “I’m really into push-ups, so keep going, just do push-ups.”

“I can do this all day,” he said, but Ivy could hear the hitch in his breath and she could see the sweat beading on his forehead.

“I’m not into quitters,” Ivy said as she saw Blake’s arms start to shake.

“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine,” he grunted.

“I’m on twelve,” Ivy answered.

Blake collapsed onto the mat he had been working out on. He huffed and puffed for breath as Ivy shook her head. “I did a lot while you were still in bed,” he tried to explain.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Ivy said as she strolled into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. Ellen and her father were gone, both at work.

“So, you gonna watch my match this week?” Blake asked as he took a heavy swig from his water bottle.

“When is it?” Ivy asked as she flipped through the newspaper.

Blake took the paper out of her hand and showed her the sports page. Above the fold was a picture of Blake, going head to head against another man, Marco Johnson. “Friday at 8:00 pm. Prime Time, how have you not heard about this?”

“Well, I only watch TV that’s created by Shonda Rhimes, and she does medical dramas and political thrillers, not cage matches.”

“It’s not a cage match,” he said, dropping the paper on the table. “It’s MMA fighting and it’s a real thing. There’s a big world out there, far bigger than some soap opera on TV.”

“And fighting is somehow more serious and worthy of notice than an award winning television show?”

“The fights are real,” Blake countered, “and anything could happen in them. Fiction has nothing on that.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on watching your fight. But if it’s that important to you, I will,” Ivy said rolling her eyes.

“I think you might like what you see, Ivy,” Blake said as he left the kitchen.

She watched him go and looked down at the newspaper ad. Blake’s face was etched in black and white and he looked stern, almost scary, as he sneered at his opponent. Below it were quotes that said, “fight of the year,” and “Lambert is a knock out!” She had always shied away from Blake’s MMA career. It seemed too intense and too violent and she had never seen a single fight he had been in. She had to admit he was successful at it, but she still wasn’t sure if she could bring herself to watch him in a no-holds-bar against another man. 

Chapter Seven

“Ten more, reps,” Paulie said as he stood over Blake.

Blake took a deep breath and slowly benched pressed the eighty pounds up and down as he counted through puffs of breath.

“Four, three, two...one.” With one last push he rested the bar on it’s holder and fell back on the bench gasping for breath. “You did good,” Paulie said, helping Blake sit up. He handed him a bottle of water and Blake gulped it down. “You’re really pushing yourself today,” Paulie continued. “Where’d all this focus come from?”

He stood up to stretch, but really he just needed to move. He still couldn’t believe Ivy had no idea the level of success Blake had received. He had endorsement deals, he had been on the cover of magazines, he had been interviewed by Rolling Stone, and the one person he wanted to impress had no idea. “I just want to win,” Blake said.

Ivy would be watching this match. He would make sure of it. Then she could see how far he had come. He wasn’t the street fighting kid from his youth. He was a man building an empire now. He was good at what he did and Ivy would have to see that everything that had happened had been worth it, including the fight that had gotten him suspended senior year.

“Well, I think I know what’s really on your mind,” Paulie said, but he wasn’t looking at Blake, he was looking past him, “and she just walked through the door.”

Blake turned around and saw Ivy walking through the gym. She looked too good for the setting. She was wearing a pair of skintight blue jeans with a blue sweater and black boots that came up to her knees. She looked like a fashion model on her way to a shoot.

“I’m gonna go grab a smoke,” Paulie grumbled. “Don’t waste the time I’m giving you, because once I’m back in here we’re back to work and your girl heads home.”

“She’s not my girl,” Blake said standing up.

Paulie said nothing, but turned on his heels and headed for the back door.

“Hey,” Blake said as Ivy approached him.

“You forgot your phone,” Ivy said pulling it out of her pocket and handing it over. “Your mom asked me to bring it over.”

“Thanks,” Blake said, taking the phone from her hand. But to his surprise, Ivy didn’t leave.

She put her hands in her back pocket and looked around the gym. “Nice place you got here,” she said.

Blake looked around the dark gym. He could see how it could look unfriendly to an outsider. There was a large center ring, with harsh lights above it and the bare bones materials needed for training. But Blake loved it here. He knew it was worth it. “Best gym in the world,” Blake answered. “I tried to get Paulie to open a gym in Seattle, but he refused to move,” Blake said with a shrug. “I come home just to train here at least once a month.”

“I feel like I come home once a month, too. It’s crazy we haven't run into each other.”

“Well, now our parents live together, so I imagine we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

“I imagine so,” Ivy said, looking up at him through his lashes.

Blake opened and then closed his mouth not sure what to say. Was she flirting with him? There was only one way to find out. “You worried, Ivy? You look a little nervous.”

“I’m not scared, are you?”

“I’m not scared of anything,” Blake said taking a step towards her.

“Because you know how to fight?” Ivy asked. She was standing next to the punching bag and she lifted her hand and gave it a gentle push making it swing back and forth.

“I guess that’s one reason,” he answered. “There aren’t a lot of people who can beat me in a fight.”

“Can you show me?”

“Show you how to fight?” Blake asked.

“Yeah. I’ve never been in a fight before. I’m not sure how well I would do, but it would be nice to know how to throw a punch.” She stopped the punching bag with her hand and gave him a questioning smile.

“All right, I’ll teach you how to throw a punch,” Blake said. “First let's wrap your knuckles.” He took her soft and small hands in his own and gently wrapped black tape around her knuckles, telling her to open and close her fist to make sure it wasn’t too tight. “Okay,” Blake said. He maneuvered Ivy in front of the punching bag. He kicked her legs shoulders’ width apart and squared her shoulders. “You’re not very strong, so you need to use your whole body when you punch.” He stood next to her in a fighting stance and pulled his fist back and put his weight on his back leg and then stepped forward and punched forward, hitting the bag and pushing it back.

“Okay,” Ivy said. Blake moved to the other side of the bag and held it steady for her. Ivy concentrated, leaned back and then stepped forward with the weakest punch he had ever seen.

“Come on,” Blake said. “You won’t hurt yourself, put your back into it. Imagine someone you really hate and put their face on the bag and then hit it with all you’ve got.”

Ivy nodded and brought up her fist and launched it at the punching bag.

“Better,” Blake said. “Again.”

Ivy hit the bag again and each time her fist was a little more confident and she was hitting the bag harder.

“Good,” Blake said, coming over to her and standing behind her. “But follow through with your arm.” He lifted her right arm and pulled it back. “It’s all in your shoulder,” he said, guiding her arm forward and gently bringing it to contact with the bag.

He was suddenly aware of how close they were standing. She was slightly out of breath and he could hear her panted breathing. Her wrist was still in his hand and her pulse was under his thumb, her heart racing, and he wondered if it had been the training or something else. He could smell the shampoo she used, he was that close to her neck. He could lean forward just slightly and place a gentle kiss right on the nape of her neck. Right on that place he knew drove her wild.

“I got it,” she said glancing back at him. There was a determination in her eyes and he didn’t want to stop it. He took up his position behind the bag is Ivy pulled back and landed a firm hit right at the center of the bag.

“Nice!” Blake said.

“Yeah? That wasn’t too bad?” Ivy asked as she looked up at him.

“That was impressive,” he said. “You just need to put in some more time with the weights and you could be winning fights by the end of the month.”

“My hand hurts,” she said, unclenching her fist.

“Here,” Blake said, taking her hand in his. He wanted to touch her again. Their last moment had been too brief. He wanted her in his arms, where they both belonged. Blake took Ivy’s hand and gently massaged it for a few moments before taking off the tape and throwing it away. Her hand was warm and he couldn’t help himself, bringing her palm up to his lips and kissing it.

Ivy didn’t pull away. Her lips parted as she began to take deeper breaths, but she didn’t pull away. He pulled her closer, still holding her right hand in his. She took a step closer to him and Blake wrapped his arm around her waist as her hand came to rest on his chest.

She was so close to him. She was looking up at him with those dark eyes that had always made him melt. He raised his right hand caressed her cheek, tilting her chin up. Just as he leaned down to kiss her, the back door slammed open.

“Time to get back to work!” Paulie yelled through the empty gym.

Ivy jumped back and out of Blake’s arms. He shook his head and focused on all of the good things Paulie had done for him. He loved the old man, but, at that moment, Blake could have easily thrown a punch at him.

He glanced back at Ivy, but whatever their moment might have been, it had passed. Her arms were crossed in front of her and she was looking anywhere but at Blake. Finally, she glanced at him and he saw the flush in her cheeks and on her chest. She was so naked with her emotions, everything she was feeling reflected on her face; she would have been a terrible poker player.

Blake was consumed with the desire to reach out and touch her. He wanted to run his fingers down her smooth cheek. He wanted to tilt her head up to his and look down into her eyes before he kissed her. He wanted to feel her body flush against his. He wanted to see her smile when he kissed her, to hear her eager sigh in his ear.

But not now. With a wave and a half-smile Ivy was leaving the gym. Walking past the large ring with its blue mats, she reached the door and for a moment her body was outlined by the foggy daylight and then she was gone.