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  Krae

  “Fit to Love”

  Book 4

  By Tarin Lex

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2020 by Tarin Lex.

  No part of this work may be transmitted or reproduced by any means without the express written permission of the author/publisher.

  Published by Tarin Lex.

  “Krae” is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, and events are fictitious.

  Cover by DesignRans.

  Insta Love Possessive Alpha Romance

  Secret Baby Daddy Second Chance

  Tarin writes short, sexy, romantic stories. She lives in the Big City but she’s a country girl at heart. Tarin’s a sucker for the misunderstood Bad Boy—preferably of the hardworking, tattooed, blue-collar variety—and the sweet, curvy women who tame them.

  Author Note

  This short story contains content that may be triggering to some people. There is no violence depicted on-page, nor is any trauma described in detail. However, there are a couple of references to a character’s previous experiences with domestic abuse. If this is a sensitive subject or a trigger for you, consider skipping to the next book in the series, Axe.

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Epilogue

  One

  Candice

  Manchester, England

  There’s something incredibly satisfying about the perfect origami paper. Smooth finish, thin and soft but strong enough to hold a crease. It’s an addiction, I know, as I gleefully bust out a bright new pack that just came in. A jazz song, “All the Stars of Paris,” flows from the surround-sound, kissing my ears. Tuesdays at the pub are quiet, so the owner gives little more rebuke than an eyeroll when I start to idly fold the paper, again and again, into an adorable ladybird.

  I’m so lost in the music and the folding, I don’t realize there’s a customer at my bar top until his voice cuts my concentration.

  “Slow night?” he says in a low, soothing masculine voice. Straight away I catch the American accent.

  “Not for a Tuesday.” I set down the ladybird, winning a smirk from the handsome stranger. I’d swear this room is always cold, even in the middle of summer, but my heartrate spikes when I look up into his eyes. They’re the same soft-gold shade as the Glenlivet Scotch whisky we house on the very top shelf. The air is suddenly charged with so much heat, I almost sweat.

  I find my voice after too many seconds of staring. “What can I get you?” I say politely.

  “Are you offering something you’ll pour for me, or something you’ll fold?”

  “Either.”

  “May I?” He indicates the ladybird. I smile. Not just because he’s lighted me up. I mean sure, he’s a well fit man. His face is ruggedly attractive, the way his chestnut hair falls in a soft wave against his brow, those whipcord arms held against a strong, wide chest. Some people liken origami to the folded-up footballs of preteen boys. Instead of the rich two-thousand-year-old tradition involving math as well as art. It seems this guy’s in the latter group.

  And wouldn’t I like to get ‘folded up’ together with him…

  “Sure.” I nod.

  Gingerly he turns over the ladybird in his hand, examining the angles, the detail. “Very cool. What else can you make?”

  “Anything.”

  “Confident woman. Nice.” If only he knew about the butterflies swarming my stomach. He sets it back down between us. “Do you know ladybugs are supposed to be good luck?”

  “Yes.” Lucky, and charming, and cute. Qualities I wish I had. Instead I’m awkward and clumsy and not very lucky.

  “And did you know, there’s an Old Norse myth that says if two people see a ladybug at the exact same time, they’ll fall in love and are meant to be together forever?”

  “Is that right?”

  “I’m ’fraid so.”

  “No,” I volley playfully. “I didn’t know that.”

  The American flashes me a smirk that’s a devastating mix of boyishness and sex appeal. “We just looked at yours at the same time.”

  “That doesn’t count.” I slide him a wary look that badly covers up the smile I’m feeling. “It’s paper, not an actual ladybird. And we’re not Vikings.”

  “Time will tell.” He shrugs. “My name’s Krae.”

  “Candice.”

  “I’d like to keep that one, Candice,” he says, and flicks his eyes from my face to the ladybird and then back to my face.

  “Um. Sure.”

  “I don’t reckon you’d let me buy you a drink, as compensation?”

  “Well…” I feel my cheeks furiously blush. “I’m not s’posed to drink on the clock.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Yes. I’d let you.”

  “Then I’ll have whatever you’re having,” he says. “Which is?”

  “You’re really putting that kind of pressure on me?”

  “Bonus points if it’s whisky.”

  Whisky, blech. My eyebrows rise then lower, my face contorting as I explore ways to grimace and smile at the same time. Margaritas, wine, champagne—any of those would be more to my taste.

  Krae adds, “A gorgeous woman drinking whisky is my Kryptonite,” with that disarmingly sexy grin of his, and twin dimples appear on his cheeks. My heart staggers wildly and the temperature in the room goes up another notch.

  “I don’t s’pose you’d like a finger of Glenlivet 18?” I half-joke. It’s not as if he looks like he’s made of money. But that damn bottle never gets opened, only dusted on occasion. Krae smiles like a relaxed, mysterious, unassuming man who secretly has the world at his feet…And if I’m drinking whisky tonight, it might as well be something I couldn’t purchase on my own.

  Because let’s be real. I’m behind on rent this month. I’m glistening through my cheap shirt. My tattered heels have a fresh scuff on them I’ll have to try and buff out or cover it up with a Sharpie later. I could use a single indulgence.

  Krae holds up two fingers, fishing out his wallet with his other hand. “One for the beautiful bartender. One for me, in return for the beautiful bartender’s enchanted ladybug.”

  I try not to giggle as I whirl toward the liquor and carefully retrieve the expensive bottle from the highest shelf.

  “Not enchanted,” I murmur, pouring the whisky neat. “We call them ladybirds here. Just a regular, old, origami ladybird.” I slide him the drink.

  Krae swirls the amber liquid in a slow circle, letting it adhere and then fall from the sides of the glass. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” He raises it toward me in a salute.

  We clink to whatever he meant by that, and I let the long, drawn-out sip warm my body even more from the inside out.

  Two

  Krae

  Austin, TX – Nine weeks later

  I won my scheduled Fit to Fight bout in Manchester, and instead of celebrating the usual way, I went back to my hotel room and gave a kiss to my new lucky ladybug. Although it was Candice I wanted to kiss again. Two days earlier we’d spent an incredible night together. But we agreed it’d only be for one night. One sleepless heart-pumping toe-curling night fueled by endless orgasms. Her amazing curves and her sweet, sweet voice.

  God I miss her.

  It’s not normal to ache over a one-night stand this way. We traded names and pleasure and barely anything else. No cell phone numbers. She doesn’t even know what I do for a living. Wasn’t important. I could call the pub where she works if it wouldn’t come off as totally creepy. Besides she lives in England for Christ’s sake.

  I live in Texas, close to my family and training camp. My brother Drake and his wife Harlow have fourte
en-month-old triplets. Never thought I’d be an uncle, knowing Drake, but I actually love it. And who better to be my sister-in-law than Harlow, Drake’s longtime best friend?

  I’m at their house now, having a beer and trying to talk over the noise and chaos as the little humans run all around, giving Harlow a better workout than my grappling coach.

  “What the hell happened to you, brother?” Drake cuts the smalltalk after IPA number two.

  “Whaddya mean?” I ask back. I know what he means.

  “You’ve been moody as hell for like a month.”

  “Two months!” Harlow shouts from the other room.

  “It’s like you hate to win, or something,” Drake guesses.

  “Nah. I like to win. I just…” Aw hell, might as well come out with it. He’ll figure it out sooner or later, if he keeps trying. Or Harlow will. “There was a girl. A woman.”

  “I knew it!” Harlow shouts again. “You met someone in England, didn’t you?!”

  “Is that true?” my brother says in a lower voice.

  I swallow the rest of my Dogfish for fortification then tell him the whole story. Minus a few…personal details.

  My sister-in-law must have superpowers, because the woman has been chasing after and wrangling the tots this whole time, while still somehow tuning in to my conversation with Drake.

  She says, “You know what’d be fun? If you called in one of those second-date update shows.”

  “That’s less creepy than calling the pub and getting her number?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Harlow grins. “But it’s definitely more fun…and kind of sweet.”

  “Pretty sure those segments are staged,” Drake says it like a question.

  Harlow shrugs. “Maybe, I dunno.”

  My buddy looks over at me, his interest piqued. “It’s worth a shot, yeah?”

  Harlow brings me her laptop and navigates to the second-date update section of the radio station’s website.

  Drake slides her a look. “Wow you sure found that fast.”

  “What?” She tosses him a smirk. “I was getting desperate waiting for you to finally ask me out,” she teases back.

  Desperate. “Am I desperate?” I ask out loud.

  Silence descends. The two of them look at me with sympathy that I find sort of irritating, but who am I kidding. If I didn’t wanna sound mentally insane I might admit I didn’t just have a great time with Candice in Manchester that night.

  I fell in love with her.

  “OK, so just fill this out,” Harlow says evenly, evading my question. “Tell them your story, how you met, why you want to go on a second date.”

  “Do I want to go on a second date? I mean, we’re talking about the UK. Almost five thousand miles away.”

  “Aren’t you on the card for the fight in Glasgow?” Drake offers helpfully. “Maybe you can meet up there.”

  “That’s in six months.” Too long.

  “Oh honey,” Harlow murmurs as if she read my last thought loud and clear. “You’ve got to call her.” She taps the form on the laptop screen. “If she’s half as broody as you’ve been lately, she’ll think it’s totally adorable.”

  A strange happy-sadness fills my chest when I picture Candice missing me too. It’s unnerving.

  It’s exciting.

  #

  My heart’s thumping a mile a minute as the radio DJ puts me on hold after I give him the background of the story, same spiel we rehearsed a couple of times beforehand. The time difference adds a layer of complexity, but we work around it. Apparently this isn’t the radio station’s first long-distance episode. The call is also prerecorded so they can tease listeners about what might happen.

  What might happen?

  Candice could pick up the phone, laugh at me. Or she could tell me to fuck off.

  She could say yes.

  I’ve had time to realize I want her to. I’d book a plane ticket. For her, or me. Whatever she wants. Whenever she wants.

  I hear her voice pick up, and the DJ introduces himself. “Can I talk to you on the air for a minute?”

  “Um. Okay,” Candice replies.

  “The reason I’m calling is—we have a segment on our show called Second Date Update. Listeners call when they’ve had an awesome first date but for whatever reason it never progressed after that. And we got a call…about you.”

  “You did, really?”

  “Yeah. Do you remember going out with Krae?”

  After a moment of quiet I can only guess means this was a really bad idea, she whispers hesitantly, “Yes.”

  “I have Krae on the other line. Let’s bring him in on this conversation?”

  “A’right…”

  “Krae?” the DJ says, sounding closer all of a sudden. “Go ahead.”

  I take a quick, sharp breath. “Ladybug.”

  “Krae. Ohmygod.”

  “Hi. Wow. It’s good to hear your voice…” I say, then pause. Radio silence. “I know we said we wouldn’t keep in touch but—”

  “Jesus, Krae. I’ve wanted to be able to call you. I need—”

  “I’m sorry Candice. God. I should’ve just given you my phone number.”

  “You didn’t know. But listen…”

  My heart’s pounding so fast I feel almost manic. “I’m just so thrilled we actually got you on the line.”

  “Krae,” Candice cuts back in, in a serious tone. Then she flips my world upside over. “I’m pregnant.”

  Three

  Candice

  I couldn’t believe what was happening. One minute I was two months pregnant, alone and scared, with no way of getting ’hold of the man I know is the baby’s father. The next minute he actually calls me out of the blue, for no real reason except he wanted to hear my voice. And to be cute. Which he was—is.

  Gosh he’s cute.

  It wasn’t my proudest moment…having unprotected sex with a virtual stranger. But Krae was there too; he didn’t use a condom, he knew I wasn’t on the Pill. How stupid of us. We should’ve exchanged phone numbers at least, just in case.

  None of that means I’m less than absolutely thrilled about having this baby. From the second I found out, I was in love. A baby—my baby!

  I’m over the moon!

  But I can’t be sure it’s what Krae wants too. We immediately went off the air to continue our chat, and Krae was all, “Are you sure?” and “Okay, wow,” and “We need to talk, we need to just talk about this…”

  I told him how happy I was, that I didn’t regret anything, and that he could decide how much he wanted to be in our lives. In case he was wondering. To which he replied flatly, “Alright.”

  I’ve never been to the States. Krae explained that his work schedule is a tad chaotic, reminding me that I have no idea about his profession. He promised a longer conversation about…everything? us?…if I could fly out to see him as soon as possible. I was happy to, even happier when he volunteered to buy the ticket.

  Turns out nothing can exacerbate a pregnant woman’s relentless nausea like overseas travel. It’s a wonder I didn’t faint. From the airport smell to the ten-hour flight to the long line at customs with all of my baggage. And then there’s my nerves. Krae texts my mobile to tell me he’s waiting outside the terminal and my already-climbing anxiety goes off like a flare.

  When I set my eyes on him though, that all goes away in a blink. He’s as handsome as I remembered. He’s smiling, not the flirtatious way he smirked at me when we first met, but a lover’s smile, broad and warm, one that’s felt deeply. It reaches his eyes. Holding a small bouquet of flowers, he catches my gaze, and as I step closer I realize they aren’t ordinary flowers in an ordinary arrangement.

  They’re folded origami.

  “Trade ya,” he says, holding them out to me and relieving me of all my baggage in exchange.

  My heart tips. Just tips right over. He kisses my cheek.

  “Thank you. Wow,” I murmur, as we make our way toward his truck, “these must’ve taken you
hours to fold.”

  “Eh, it was easy,” Krae says, all smug. “Piece of cake.” I slide him a look. “Alright,” he admits, “I enlisted some help from my sister-in-law.”

  “Some help?” I ask.

  “She did all of them. Geez. You’re like some kind of conversational wizard.”

  Cute, and funny. I giggle at that. So he didn’t actually make the flowers. It’s still the most thoughtful gesture anyone’s ever done for me. “I love ’em.”

  “I thought you might. Be sure and tell Harlow that too, when you meet her.”

  My heartrate spikes again. I hide my unrest under a smile. I’d been so anxious to see Krae, I hadn’t thought about meeting…Family.

  “It’s good to see you, Krae,” I tell him in his truck, after a long silence that fell between us.

  He reaches over the center to take my hand, gently. He smiles, softly. “This is amazing,” he says. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Good.”

  “Good. I hope you’re not worried. We’ll talk about things tonight, at dinner. I’ve made reservations. I hope you like Italian?” he carries on, talking fast as if his nerves are also a little bit twisted. That shouldn’t make me smile and feel warm inside, but it does. “Everything’s going to be okay. We have a lot to talk about, right? Let’s just be in the moment for now.” He pauses for a deep, steeling breath. “I want to just be here…with you,” he says.

  “Me too.” Lie. I want to talk about all of it, now, it’s all right there, right at the surface, the mess of my nerves begging to just get untangled, promptly. I stiffen my upper lip instead of coming undone right here in his Ford.

  Everything’s going to be okay. His words. He hasn’t given me a reason not to trust him. But trust, is earned.

  My fingers itch to reach back for my carryon and fetch my papers and fold, fold, fold, until my mind quiets down or my hands go numb. Whichever comes first. Life has not been easy for me. Hasn’t been good to me like I can tell it has for Krae. With his, Everything’s going to be okay. His, Let’s just be in the moment.