Defying the Odds(5)

Melody arched an eyebrow. “MMA?”



“Mixed Martial Arts. It’s a form of fighting, like boxing only more intense. It’s martial arts with wrestling and kickboxing mixed into it. Takes a real athlete to compete in the MMA circuit. Only the best of the best make it to the UFC. They’re the top MMA promoter in the world.”



Melody shrugged, deciding she’d have to take his word for it. “Who knew someone could make that much money doing that.”



“Powerhouse’s fights are always broadcast nationally. He’s a big moneymaker. Has fancy sponsors and everything. You might as well get used to it. We play all the fights here, whether one of our boys is up or not.”



“How many guys from Garnet are in the UFC?”



“Only Powerhouse and Slayer right now, but Slayer’s still green. Wyatt used to be a fighter, but he quit before he could get far. His daddy dropped dead of a heart attack and left a sheriff job opening.”



“Huh,” Melody said, absorbing that information. Maybe she’d misjudged the sheriff, but she still thought him too smooth to trust. “I guess that sucks. Having to quit and watch his buddy get all the glory.”



“Wyatt doesn’t seem to mind too much,” Hal said dismissively. “He’s a sixth-generation sheriff in Garnet. It’s what his people do. They’re bred big and mean on purpose. We wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves without a Conner in charge and keeping us in line. We’re a wild bunch.”



“I guess.” Melody laughed, surprised at Hal, who usually didn’t say much. Get him started on this fighting thing and he got real talkative, which was nice. “You’d have to be a bit wild with that many prizefighters coming out of this little town.”



“Some small towns grow football players or gymnasts or swimmers. You always hear about Olympians coming from some pissant town because there ain’t nothing else to do but learn a sport. So that’s what Garnet produces: corn-fed, all-American, extreme fighters.”



“Or marines,” Melody couldn’t help but observe, eyeing Hal with his buzzed blond hair, knowing he’d been a marine for several years before he got out and opened the diner. “I noticed there’s lots of marine talk round here.”



“That ain’t a lie. Course too many of our boys been coming home in boxes lately. I’m starting to wish they’d ended up in the UFC instead. Garnet boys are a little too brass for their own good.”



“Yeah,” Melody agreed. “But you look like a good bunch to me. I liked that Powerhouse guy. He seemed like good stock.”



“What the hell kinda sense do you have?” Hal laughed. “That boy’s meaner than spit.”



Melody refused to believe it. Sure he was intimidating at first glance. His eyes were dark as sin, and he was one of the biggest men she’d ever seen in person. She put him at six-five easily, with massive arms and a chest that was all muscle. He’d look out of place if there weren’t a lot of big guys walking around Garnet. She wasn’t real sure what they put in the water, but it seemed to make the men around here a little more built than normal. But big guys didn’t bother her. Her daddy had been a big guy with a gruff disposition, and he’d secretly been one of the nicest men she’d ever known.



“I think he’s just misunderstood,” Melody announced, remembering the fighter’s handsome smile over something as simple as a piece of pie. “Maybe he just acts mean ’cause people expect it of him.”



“Sounds like you’re looking for a new man to me. Ain’t you had enough of ’em? Showing up here homeless and looking for a job ’cause of a nasty ex-husband should do you in on all of us.”



“That’s the truth,” Melody agreed readily. “But just ’cause I picked a nasty one doesn’t mean I can’t make friends. I’m trying real hard not to hold his mistakes against the whole lot of ya. I’m not gonna be scared ’cause of him. There are good men in the world. You’re a good man. You gave me a job faster than I could say, ‘I’m broke.’ Then you got your buddy Terry to rent me that cottage with nothing but an IOU to give him. You’re sweet as can be.”



Hal laughed. “If ya say so.”



“I do.” Melody tucked the strainer under her arm and walked past Hal, squeezing his big bicep more as a reassurance to herself than him. She needed to know she could still touch men, that muscles and brawn didn’t intimidate her. It was her statement to the world that she wasn’t scared, and she felt good about it. “I’m gonna get this silverware rolled, ’cause I’m dead on my feet.”