Page 15 of Single-Dad: The Mountain Man

Ire-read the text before tossing my phone to the side of the bed. Really? Is this actually happening?

It’s not the first time that a local guy has flaked on me. It’s been happening since I started dating. Guys never checked me out.

Even today, guys looked my way, saw Shane, and averted their gaze.

Could it be?

I grab my phone and text Mike.

Would that something have to do with Shane? You’re not the first guy to bail on me.

I wait, laying on my back. The fresh mountain air breezes in through the window. I smell and hear the forest around. Off in the distance the lake. And even though it feels like I’m in paradise, I feel frustrated.

The irony is that I was going to cancel this date before Mike texted me and although I should be relieved that I don’t have to let him down, I feel angry.

Why does my life have to be so difficult when it comes to dating? Why does he have to be so difficult?

The vibration of my phone signals a text as I reach for it.

Promise you won’t rat on me?

I hesitate for a moment before texting back.

I promise.

After a few minutes of drawn-out anticipation, Mike replies.

It’s Shane.

Mike is new in town but he’s joined Shane’s gym and already knows a few guys, most of them Shane’s students.

He goes on to tell me that every guy in the gym, and pretty much every guy in town, knows I’m off-limits—whatever that means. That Shane makes it clear that no guy is to go near me. He even challenged some of the more gung ho guys tosparring sessionswhere the winner gets to ask me out for a date.

He never loses.

I read Mike’s text with trembling fingers pressed against my mouth and fall back onto my pillow, my head swimming with thoughts.

This is crazy.

How long has this been going on?

Anger suddenly bubbles up within me. At my brother, at Shane, and most of all at my body, because it’s as if it knows he’s my one and only and refuses to even entertain anyone else.

Well, Shane. If that’s how you want to play it. Let’s see how you handle a taste of your own medicine.

* * *

I headinto the gym and wander through it looking for him. Up ahead is the ring where I’ve seen him spar often enough, although he told me he doesn’t like me watching, that he doesn’t want me to see that side of him.

I spot him standing in the ring with a group of people on the outside.

He stands inside, opposite Mike who has a focused look on his face. Then they begin. Mike throws a few jabs at Shane who effortlessly dodges them and returns fire, grazing him in the process.

I see Cassie, Becca and Courtney all standing on the outside with heated looks in their eyes and something inside me feels like clawing their eyes out, but I don’t bother. I know why I’m here and what I have to do.

Setting my back down, I pull out my MMA gloves and slip my fingers into them. By the time I’ve laced my gloves, Shane has already overwhelmed Mike and I catch the look of triumph in his eyes.

I’ve watched all of his fights, despite him telling me not to, and I’ve never seen him look so victorious. Even when he won the heavyweight title, he never looked the way he does now. There’s a primal look in his eyes, probably the same look men in the past wore after successfully defending their lands and women. It probably goes back to the first caveman who defended his woman from another man.

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