Spent - Part 1 (Spent, a New Adult Romance, MMA Series) by Elise Holland

I’ve had in months. I just don’t do interviews really well.”

    My phone vibrates in my back pocket, causing an annoying thumping sound to ring through the stadium. Quickly fishing it out of my pocket, I look to see who it is.

    “Crap,” I mutter when I realize it’s my mother, “I keep forgetting to call her back.”  

    “Who?” Luke cocks his head to the side in an almost irresistible manner.  

    “My mom. She and my stepdad are wanting to visit,” I sigh as I hit the ignore button on my phone, quickly shoving it back down into my pants.  

    “Where are they from?”  

    “Same place I’m from,” I smirk as I take a sip from my beer.  

    Luke frowns, “You’re a butt.”

    “I’m more than just a piece of ass, Luke Richards,” I practice my best tone of exasperation, “And I’m from Missouri.”  

    “But your ass compliments you nicely,” Luke interjects, without missing a beat, “And I thought I caught a hint of a southern accent.”  

    I blush. All I can think about is the way his own tight ass scoots past me every day he arrives for class. My mouth begins to salivate as I think about my hands running along the smooth skin of his taut…  

    Chill out, Tash. Just get your interview, have him tutor you, then get out before you do something stupid.

    “So,” I tap my pen against my notebook, “How did you get started in MMA?”

    Luke sighs, “You’re not going to let me finish my beer first, are you?”

    “Nope. Now answer the question.”

    Luke takes a quick sip from his beer, then rests it down on the edge of his knee. I watch as he sits in silence, his expression blank and unreadable. One day, I’ll be happy when I can finally interpret the many blank expressions of Luke Richards.  

    “I didn’t have the greatest childhood.”  

    Wow… Not what I was expecting.

    “Really?” My tone comes out a bit more surprised than what I would like.  

    “Yeah, but we’re going to need way more beers than one case before I can open up about all that,” Luke smirks, “Let’s just say that, through my childhood, I learned how to fight.”

    “Well maybe someday you can share it with me,” I smile as kindly as I can. I really want to know more about him, but I can tell by his unease that this isn’t a story that I’m going to hear anytime soon.  

    “So rumor has it,” I continue, “that you don’t have a primary trainer. Care to shed some light on that?”

    Luke’s face grows dark, causing me to immediately regret my question. I can tell from his expression alone that not having a trainer is something far deeper than simply being full of himself and thinking he can do it all on his own. This look is something personal and likely something I’m not going to find out about. I’m quickly coming to realize that Luke Richards is a far more mysterious man than I had initially thought him to be.  

    “My trainer and I had a conflict of interest,” Luke mutters as he quickly chugs down the last bit of his beer. Once his beer is finished, he sets the can down beside him and grabs another.

    “Conflict of interest?” The journalist in me can’t help but dig deeper.

    “We both shared a similar interest which quickly grew into a conflict,” Luke looks over at me, his hazel eyes searching mine, “Do you have a different question?”

    “Um,” I fumble with my notepad, “Sure, sorry. To what do you owe your success?”  

    As soon as the words tumble out of my mouth, I want to facepalm myself. It’s just a generic question that I ask all of the athletes I interview. Luke is the first athlete I’ve ever interviewed with any sort of background that poses issues for the usual questions I ask, quickly beginning to make me feel way out of my comfort zone.  

    Luke arches an eyebrow, “I’d hardly call what I do a success, Tasha. I haven’t won consistently in over a year. The last fight I won was almost 2 months ago.”  

    “But you used to win