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“Oh yeah. I saw your car at the B & B. Nice ride.”
“Thanks,” I tell him.
Chris turns his attention back to me. “So, what do you do?”
Now IwishI had the booze, because if they’re asking, they haven’t researched me, which can be a good or bad thing, depending. “I’m in diamond sales.”
“Damn,” Harrison hisses. “Are you sure you want to marry their sister? I have a few you can choose from.”
Beckett gives him a dirty look. I could see myself hanging out with them regularly—even if the cowboy hats and Wranglers are a culture shock.
“We have some business to take care of,” Chris says, picking up two sets of boxing gloves.
“You don’t want to do that,” I explain, knowing I trained for ten years with a professional. It’s not fair.
Harrison claps his hands together. “Oh, yeah, they do. I can’t wait to watch you beat the fuck out of them though. They need their egos brought down to reality. I’ve got a hundred on Easton,” he says, pulling cash out of his wallet and slamming it down on his leg.
Beckett shakes his head. “Hogties and threats work so much better.”
“It’s friendly sparring,” Brett says as Chris hands me the extra gloves.
I remove my jacket and watch, rolling my wrists and neck before putting my hands inside the gloves.
Turning my head, I notice the large area roped off with twine.
The last thing I’ll do is back down from this.
If I have to fight her brothers for permission, then let’s fucking go.
We move to the area, and Chris slams his gloves together.
“Rules?” I ask.
He takes a swing, and I easily avoid it.
“No dick shots. All else is fair game. It’s over when one of us falls or knocks the other out.”
“Street rules, then?” I ask as he punches his fist forward again, missing.
“Are you fucking my little sister?” he growls, and that’s when I see the anger behind his eyes.
“Not yet,” I answer truthfully.
This time, he rushes at me, wearing his emotions on his sleeve. His fists fly, but I take two steps, avoiding his sloppy attack. The fact that Lexi was worried is comical.
“I’m serious about marrying her,” I explain.
He removes his gloves, throwing them to the ground. His fists lift back into position.
“Street rules,” he confirms, his chest rising and falling.
I take mine off too. “We can stop this right now. Seriously.”
“Look, he’s fucking scared,” Chris boasts.
“I’m not,” I say, my tone even as I shake my head.
All the guys surround our makeshift arena. I look over at Brett and he shrugs.