The Fight for Love (Contemporary Romance) (6 page)

Dalton was still staring at the door Lucie had stormed out of when Steve came back clutching a fresh cup of coffee.

“Is it safe to return?” he asked jokingly.

“I guess,” Dalton shrugged and tore his eyes away from the door.

“Another woman scorned, eh?”

“Mmm,” Dalton didn’t want to talk about it. He’d seen the hurt in Lucie’s eyes when he basically told her that she’d never really matter to him, at least not more than fighting. He wondered if that was even true or if he was just saying how he was supposed to feel?

“It’s quite a life you lead,” Steve commented with a wry smile.

“I’m done with the punch pads today,” Dalton shot a resentful glance up into the ring. “Let’s hit the weights.”

“You sure?” Steve looked concerned. “You hit them pretty hard yesterday. You don’t want to go overdoing it.”

“I’m sure.”

Dalton gritted his teeth beneath the vast weights as he pushed the dumbbell up overhead. His arms shook precariously beneath it. The weights had definitely been a bad idea. His body was still too exhausted to properly work them. But Dalton didn’t care about that. He just wanted to feel the burn of the pain as his muscles strained to support the immense weight. Because when he was in pain he wasn’t thinking about Lucie. His mind became blissfully clear as he tried to regulate his breathing and focus his entire body on keeping the weight suspended above him.

“You’re doing great,” Steve commented but he sounded far away. Dalton was getting lightheaded. But he didn’t care. The harder he pushed himself the more distance there was between him and his feelings.

***

It started to rain as Lucie drove back into the city. She turned on her car’s windshield wipers which struggled against the falling raindrops that mirrored the tears silently streaking down her cheeks. Lucie had been certain that what she felt with Dalton was real. She didn’t expect him to become her boyfriend overnight but she certainly didn’t anticipate that he’d just go cold on her, never wanting to see or hear from her again. She was just another notch on his bedpost. Dalton had used her up and spat her out.

Clinging tightly to the wheel Lucie continued to cry. It made her feel weak to be so distressed over a man but she couldn’t help it. She’d actually cared about Dalton. How could the man who had so selflessly defended her in the parking garage turn out to be so cold and heartless?

***

A week passed but the pain in Lucie’s heart did not lessen. She knew that she needed to forget about Dalton but that was easier said than done. She felt like he was suddenly everywhere she looked – invading every part of her life. He was on the billboard she passed on the way to work advertising designer men’s underwear; he was on the canned soft drink she grabbed on her lunch. He was everywhere. It was as if the universe was telling her not to let Dalton go.

But she’d done as Deena had suggested, she’d confronted him and he’d told her that they were over. That his first love was fighting. How was she supposed to compete with such conviction?

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Deena sympathized over cocktails that evening. Lucie nodded as she gingerly sipped at the purple beverage in the elegant long-stemmed glass she was holding.

“I just wish I could stop caring,” Lucie admitted. Each time she tried to forget all about Dalton Hughes and move on her lips tingled or her heart started to race with the memory of their time together. As much as her head and heart wanted to let him go, her body seemed incapable of doing so.

“What you need is a new man,” Deena insisted, keen to dole out some fresh advice. Lucie frowned and shook her head.

“What I need right now is no men. I’m just going to go back to focusing on my career for a while.”

“No!” Deena cried sharply. “You can’t do that! You go swearing off men now, then you let the idiot who hurt you win!”

“Mmm.”

“I’m serious, Lucie. Don’t let one bad experience ruin your chance for happiness. What is it they say? That when you fall off the horse you’ve got to get right back up or you risk forever being too afraid to ride.”

“I’m not sure dating is like horse riding.”

“Rule still applies,” Deena declared smugly. “And you need a new steed,” she pointed across the table at her friend and smiled. “I know just the guy.”

“Oh no, don’t set me up!” Lucie pleaded but she made her protests in vain. Deena had already whipped her neon pink cell phone out of her purse and her long-nailed fingers were expertly navigating their way across the digital screen, sweeping and tapping.

“I know a guy who would be perfect for you. He works in insurance. Such a sweet guy.”

Lucie groaned and drank more deeply from her glass. The last thing she wanted to do was go on a date with some total stranger but she knew from experience that Deena wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“His name is Cedric,” Deena explained.

“Cedric?” Lucie stuck out of her tongue. “Urgh.”

“Hey, what’s in a name anyway?” Deena quipped with a bright smile. “He is honestly such a lovely guy.”

“Then
why don’t you date him?” Lucie wondered sourly.

“Ooh, Miss Grumpy Pants,” Deena giggled to herself as she kept working on her phone, “we so need to get you out of this rut and loved up with someone else before you complete your transformation into a bitter old spinster!”

Despite her own misgivings Lucie reluctantly agreed to the date with Cedric. And so the following Friday night she stood patiently waiting outside a small Italian restaurant in the city called Ciopinni’s. A nearby bench had Dalton’s image splashed across its back as he lay sprawled out in his designer underwear. Lucie turned her back to him and waited on her date.

Cedric was ten minutes late, for which he apologized profusely. He was tall with white-blonde hair, kind eyes and a warm smile. Under any other circumstances Lucie would have found him charming and pleasant company but her mind was still all knotted up with Dalton.

At dinner Cedric pulled out her chair for her, asked her numerous questions about herself and actually appeared to be listening. He was the perfect date. Except that he wasn’t Dalton.

“I graduated and then moved to the city,” he concluded the story he’d been telling and gazed expectantly at Lucie. In the dim light of the restaurant he looked handsome if a little too pale. She imagined that his job, like her own, rarely permitted the opportunity to get outside and soak up the sun.

“Where did you go to college?” Lucie enquired politely.

“Brown,” Cedric replied with a modest smile.

“Ooh,” Lucie cooed. “Impressive.”

Cedric was the kind of guy you could most definitely take home to meet your parents. He was polite and well-dressed with impeccable manners. But as Lucie sat across from him at the table she knew that he would never be able to make her heart race or her blood boil. Cedric had one speed and that was nice. And Lucie wasn’t looking for that. She wanted someone who would press her up against a dressing room wall and make hot, passionate love to her.

As her mind started to wander towards thoughts of Dalton, her body began to heat up. Lucie crossed and then uncrossed her legs, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

“Deena was telling me that you work for The Standard.” Cedric was smiling at her. “That must be such an interesting job.”

“I work in features,” Lucie nodded at him. The image of Dalton in the designer underwear on the bench outside was suddenly burning bright in her mind. He looked so powerful in them with his sculpted chest exposed, leaning back on his thick, strong arms. Lucie grew even hotter as she recalled how good it felt to be wrapped in those arms.

Cedric’s arms were like matchsticks. He looked like he might snap in a too strong wind. There was no way he’d be able to throw Lucie around in the bedroom as though she were weightless, making her heart race wildly in her chest. She reckoned that she’d actually be able to lift him which definitely wasn’t a turn-on.

“So how do you find living in the city?” Cedric pressed. He seemed keen to keep the conversation going.

“I like it,” Lucie admitted honestly. “There’s always something going on, it’s a lot different from where I grew up.”

“And where was that?” Cedric asked, leaning forward with interest.

“Connecticut.” Lucie wilted slightly at the memory of her bland upbringing. Looking back it all felt like something from an old black-and-white TV show from the 1950s. Everything had always been cozy and nice. Her family had been decidedly average. Not that she didn’t like that, there was just nothing thrilling about that, no story to tell. Dalton’s upbringing was a different story. When she’d been researching him she’d read all about his time growing up in the projects. He’d been a troubled child and in fighting had found his salvation. As Lucie learned more about Dalton he became more and more fascinating to her. It was easy to see why he was such a popular celebrity, there seemed to be never-ending layers to his personality.

“I’m from Maine.” Cedric grinned. “Sometimes I miss the simplicity of life there. I can’t wait to go back and raise a family there.”

“Go back?”

“Of course.” Cedric was still smiling. “You can’t very well raise a child in the city.”

It made Lucie a little uneasy that the conversation had veered towards procreation and having a family. She failed to see what was wrong with raising a child in the city. She’d grown up in the countryside and had often resented it. She spent countless hours in endless fields feeling pretty bored and fed up. If she’d lived in the city her weekends would have been taken up with cinema and museum outings. There would have always been something to see and do, culture to soak up.

“You plan on having a family then?” Lucie asked politely.

“Absolutely,” Cedric nodded eagerly. “At least three children. Ideally two boys and a girl.”

“Oh, wow.” Lucie’s eyes widened. “You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you? Bet you’ve chosen names and everything.”

She’d said the latter part teasingly but Cedric seemed to think she was being sincere. “Albert after my father, Colin and Stacy,” he said.

“Wow.” Lucie was dumbstruck. Cedric was a man primed to settle down. It seemed that the only thing missing from his idealized future back in Maine was a woman on his arm. She would bet that if he slept with a woman he’d definitely call her back, he’d probably be proposing by the end of the week. He should have been everything Lucie was looking for. He was kind, polite and looking for a serious relationship. But as Lucie sat talking with him she couldn’t help but wish he was Dalton.

If it were Dalton at the table she’d ask him about his childhood, ask him what he loved so much about fighting. She doubted if Dalton even knew if he wanted children, let alone had picked out their names. He was so unpredictable and mysterious and that drove Lucie crazy but also intrigued her in equal measure.

“What’s your passion?” Lucie asked Cedric.

“My…my what?” He blinked at her uneasily, caught off guard by the question.

“Your passion, your dream? What do you think when you’re not working?” Lucie wondered eagerly. Dalton’s dream was fighting and it meant so much to him that he’d sacrifice everything else in his pursuit of it. Lucie sort of admired that, even though she was part of that sacrifice. Dalton believed in something. He believed in it enough to let it define his life.

“When I’m not working,” Cedric thoughtfully scratched his cheek. “I have a stamp collection,” he told her. “I wouldn’t say it’s a dream but it’s something I enjoy doing on a weekend. And I’ve got two cats – Spock and Kirk.”

“Ah,” Lucie nodded kindly at him. “Stamp collecting sounds…different.”

“It’s a lot more thrilling than it sounds,” Cedric insisted with a shy smile. There was definitely something endearing about him. If Lucie had met him before that fateful night when Dalton had saved her perhaps she’d one day be following Cedric back to Maine to have his already named children. But that would have been the life her mother wanted for her. Lucie had always wanted more. It was that yearning which had led her out into the city in the first place. She could easily have stayed in Connecticut and worked on a local paper but Lucie didn’t want that. She wanted to feel the rush and excitement of living in the city.

“What about you?” Cedric wondered kindly. “What are your dreams?”

“One day I’d like to be a writer,” Lucie admitted wistfully. “Right now I’m a journalist but I dream about making the transition to novelist.”

“That’s a pretty big dream,” Cedric told her. “Don’t you think it’s best to go after something a little more achievable?”

Lucie frowned at him. Who was he to tell her what was achievable? She was certain that Dalton wouldn’t tell her that her dream of being a writer was beyond her reach. He’d chased after his own dream and become the greatest fighter of his generation and a household name. To a man like Dalton dreams had no limitations.

“I’ve just always been bought up to be practical,” Cedric added diplomatically, sensing Lucie’s agitation.

“So was I,” Lucie sighed, “but I think it’s pretty poor advice. You end up with a life that is only half lived.”