Sierra Lancaster has had an agonizingly mediocre life. She grew up in a happy home, made loyal friends, graduated college, and is now pursuing her dream of running her own bakery. Boring, right? A story like this wouldn't be one for the books. At le...
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I'm in the middle of stuffing my face with appetizers when commotion ensues. Everyone in the venue either rises from their seats or breaks out into surprised chatter. The place comes alive with an excitement it was missing earlier and I look around for the culprit.
"What's happening?" I ask Holden.
He looks up from his phone with a frown, craning his head. I think he spots what everyone else does because his brow goes up in a rare show of impress. "No fucking way."
"What?" I try to peek around the crowd that's starting to gather at the front. "What? I can't see!"
"I didn't think they'd be here," Holden continues. If I didn't know any better I'd say he looks a little starstruck himself. "They never show up to these things."
"Who?" I shake his arm. Does he have to be so damn cryptic?
"Ladies, please! As flattered as I am you're pissing off my wife and she might punch your tits. Unfortunately for you that's hot to me so I'd let her."
I make a face. Did I hear that right?
The crowd finally parts and that's when I spot them. My mouth drops open at the image of five big and burly men huddled in one group. On each of their arms are their dates who are so freaking stunning I just about stab my own eye because the beauty is too hard to believe. But seriously, these people are hot. It's no wonder they're commanding everyone's attention without saying a word.
Only one face, bored and uninterested, registers to me. It's Asher Pryce. The famous boxer my dad treated. So that must mean the remaining four hunks are... "The Fighter's Den boxers."
"It's hard to get them to attend events," Holden explains. "There's five of them and they're scattered all over the world, taking fights. They only show up to formal gatherings if all five of them happen to be in the same place at once so this is probably one of those times."
"They're...wow," I blurt.
Seriously, what kind of testosterone runs in this group? All of them are well over six feet and ripped to perfection, broad and huge and powerful. Three of the guys have serious and scowling faces. One of them looks easy going and relaxed. And one is just flat-out grinning like he's having the time of his life. They're freaking gorgeous and my mind literally short circuits at the sight.
"They're dominating the sports industry," Holden finishes for me. "That's why everyone is going crazy. There's no such thing as not knowing who these guys are."
"You look impressed too."
"I am. Can't deny they're talented as fuck. They're every sports agents' wet dream but they choose to be represented by their coach."
