“Nope. Been there, done that.”
Travis was out of the ring and headed to the side of the room, so Gabe pulled Tamara after him, weaving through the crowd. Travis might be a grownup, but Gabe needed to keep an eye on him. Sometimes Travis got these notions into his head that something out of the norm would be great to try, and while Gabe had no trouble babysitting him here in organized chaos, he wasn’t about to let his cousin go get beat up or killed in something even more free-for-all.
Tamara tugged his sleeve to get him to stop. “Is this habit something I should be worried about? Like more worried than not understanding why my cousin likes to get violent?”
Gabe dragged a hand through his hair and wondered how to explain this, then he realized he couldn’t. “You have to ask him. As far as I know he gets something out of it, and he’s not dead at the end of the night. That’s it. That’s my understanding. I like a good fight at times, as much as the average guy. Getting physical lets out the demons, and sometimes that means beating the hell out of something, and sometimes…”
He trickled to a stop and shook his head. Nope. Not a discussion he was willing to continue with her.
Tamara smirked. “You were going to add fucking to that list of physical things guys like, weren’t you?”
Oh sheesh. “Not going there with you.”
“You’re such a girl.”
Gabe laughed. “No, you’re a girl, and my cousin, and I’m not talking sex with you.”
He glanced around the wide-open space. Another fight had begun already, people crowded forward, some with beers in their hands. The few women in the crowd were held tightly, their guys keeping a close eye on them.
He took a quick peek at Tamara. She was far more covered than the other women in the room. Her jeans and flannel shirt were modest, her long hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. She wasn’t going for the femme fatale look, but she was still an attractive woman. “You planning on putting in medical care often?”
She cocked out a hip, her head tilted to the side. “You thinking of becoming my keeper, Gabe? If you figure on following me, or otherwise trying to keep track of me, forget it. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. You’re not responsible for making sure I get home in one piece.”
Something twisted at her words, the echo of ones he’d heard so long ago, burning and painful. He stared her down, hoping he could keep what roiled inside from showing on his face.
The volume rose around them to a roar, someone shouted for a doctor. Tamara whipped away before he could react, elbowing her way through the crowd, ducking under arms. Gabe followed at a much slower pace, her smaller body wiggling easier through tight spaces. He was in time to see her snatch up a bag from the side of the platform then scramble through the ropes. She dragged on gloves before dropping to her knees to examine the downed fighter. Her orders rang out, and a couple of men stepped forward to lift the fallen off the mat. She worked efficiently, pressing a bandage to stem the blood pouring from a head cut.
It took so little time—one minute they were in the ring, the next Tamara had the man secluded to a small area off the side, bright light tilted to make it easier for her to see as she made an injection. Gabe moved in closer as she carefully stitched together the three-inch wound, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings.
The Whiskey Creek Colemans always came across as tough girls, somewhat inevitable as they’d had years of attempting to keep up with their multiple wild male cousins, but Gabe had never actually witnessed one of them in a setting like this before.
“I don’t know why you’re still hanging around, Gabe. I’m fine.” Tamara let go of the fighter’s cheek to slap his hand off her thigh. “And you. If you don’t want me to stitch your eyelids shut, keep your bloody hands to yourself.”
The fighter chuckled. “No harm in trying.”
“I have a scalpel in my bag and an intimate knowledge of anatomy. You really want to get fresh with me?” Tamara was the one to laugh as the man sucked in a hiss of pain as she pulled the thread. “Yeah, poor baby. Concentrate on something other than your head.”
“I was trying,” the man complained.
Tamara didn’t look up from her task. “Go away, Gabe.”
“Going.” But he wasn’t leaving for good until he knew she was safely in her vehicle and headed home.
Gabe grabbed another beer as he casually followed Travis. They’d done this for long enough now he didn’t have to put up with at least one cousin telling him to fuck off. Travis knew the story. Gabe wouldn’t step in unless needed. And at the end of the night, after Travis had enough, Gabe would drag him to the truck and drive him home.
It wasn’t typical, but it was what it was. Gabe didn’t judge. Just did what had to be done.
He pulled himself onto the top of a platform area to the side and leaned on the wall. From here he could see the ring, see Travis clambering back through the ropes for round two of pain and punishment. Off to the right Tamara was finishing bandaging her fighter. Gabe took another pull from his drink and wondered if his life could possibly get any weirder.
He laughed at himself. Oh, yeah, it could. Because when his babysitting tonight was over, he would head home to a woman who planned on turning things upside down and sideways.
Kissing Allison—that had been both a good and a bad idea. Bad because it made him think of all the things he’d put aside over the past while. Trying to keep his family together, all the little bits he’d secretly been dealing with around the ranch.
Her lips were soft, almost innocent under his. Her body? Innocent miss she wasn’t, not with those curves and the way she’d pressed into him. Pretending to be with her and not getting to have more than public tastes of her mouth was going to suck.
But perhaps…
Travis staggered for a moment in the ring, and Gabe held his breath. His cousin’s right eye was swelling shut. Maybe there would be an earlier finish than usual to their evening.
Fists exploded out, rapid jabs flying like electric sparks from a welding gun. Travis’s opponent reeled backward and collapsed onto the ropes.
Far more vertical than the other man, Travis raised a fist in the air in triumph. He headed back to the corner to snatch up his water bottle and press a towel to his face.
Gabe sighed. No reprieve. A long night loomed ahead of him.
After everything was over, after he’d helped Allison, and once the ranch was producing the money they needed to stay afloat, then he could approach Allison for real.
But for now, she was just another lost sheep to care for. His gaze moved carefully over Travis, over Tamara. Gabe leaned his head on the wall and watched.
It was after one, and Gabe still wasn’t back. Allison pulled the packing tape off the bottom of the empty box and unfolded it, sliding the collapsed cardboard under her bed with the rest.
She looked around the room, trying to see if she’d spread out too much. There was surprisingly little when she’d actually decided what she needed to unpack. Clothes, her computer. Her ebook reader. The knickknacks and other parts of her stuff were stacked in the porch to be added to the items already stored in the shed. She didn’t need them here, not for the while she’d be around, and the less she intruded, the better.
Who was she kidding? She’d totally come in and taken over his life. Just being in his house was bad enough.
Allison stepped back into the main living area and flicked on the kettle.
She was writing notes, sipping on a cup of tea, when floorboards outside creaked softly a second before the door opened.
Gabe hung up his jean jacket, turned silently toward the main room. He spotted her and shook his head.