Claiming The Prize Read Online Free

fighters were so fatigued that they could
barely keep arms raised, Guy Antolini was still breathing
close-mouthed, a testament to the brutal cardio training he
subjected himself to. Drago knew Guy was the right man to help turn
his dream into reality.
    The guest house was about a half-mile from
the main dwelling, and as Drago jogged toward the brick, colonial
two-story, morning activity was evident. Yellow light shone from
the tall windows on the side he approached, and a steady plume of
smoke rolled from the wood stove's pipe into the dark sky. The
biting wind at his back, Drago anticipated the promise of warmth as
he knocked at the side door. When the white panel-box door swung
open, a thermal-pajama clad Grace hurried him inside, pushing the
door closed against a blast of wind, the whirlwind of twisting
flakes losing vigor in the stillness of indoors. The power and
shock of the frigid assault brought breathy laughter from the
pair.
    “ Come in! Hurry!” Grace encouraged. “It's freezing out there! Did you walk?”
    “ Yes. Well, no. I ran,” Drago said,
laughing with her and shaking the frozen flakes from his coat. “Walking would have taken me too long.”
    Grace took Drago's coat and hung it in the
mudroom and returned to the cozy kitchen as he familiarized himself
with his new surroundings. A black, wood and coal burning stove sat
on a raised brick hearth, its blower fan softly humming,
circulating heat around the sitting area. Olive green walls topped
winter-white bead-board that extended from floor to chair rail, and
the ten-foot high ceilings gave the impression of a much larger
room. Similarly, the cabinets were bead-board panels, and above,
glass panels were used in place of the wooden fronts, showcasing
colorful dishes of red, yellow, and green within. Butcher-block
counters mimicked the honey oak floors, and red and yellow
Dutch-Country rugs added color between the counter and island.
    Before the wood stove was an off-white,
wicker settee and two matching chairs atop a pale pink,
rose-covered area rug. Green and white gingham cushions added
comfort to the old rattan, and throw pillows of green, teal, and
pale yellow littered the pieces. It was Grace's favorite spot in
the house, especially on cold mornings. The cottage-like look of
the arrangement encouraged cheerfulness with its light, spring
colors during the often bleak winter days.
    “ Would you care for some hot coffee? It's decaf,” Grace asked.
    “ Thank you, yes. Forgive my intrusion. I was not aware of the morning plans for traveling to the
gym.”
    Grace handed Drago his mug and plunked down
into her usual spot.
    “ It's really no bother. Please, sit
down. You'll be waiting for Anto for awhile. He usually stops home
to shower around eight o'clock before going to First
Strike.”
    “ Where does he go so early?” Drago
wondered aloud.
    “ Oh, he rides the property, inspecting
the barn, fences, and that sort of thing. This time of year, he's
watching the ewes. It's nearly lambing time. You're welcome to wait
here. There's fruit and bread on the counter if you'd like
something to eat,” Grace answered.
    “ That sounds very good. Thank
you.”
    Grace set out a plate, and Drago began
helping himself after Grace encouraged him further.
    “ I'll be back down shortly. If you need
anything at all, please help yourself.”
    She floated off to get ready for the busy
day.
    Underneath her calm exterior, Grace felt
curiously excited. Rushing to ready herself, she dressed in navy
compression leggings and a team Anto-Engage compression shirt. Tuesdays were jujitsu lessons, and also the day Grace took notes on
all her father's trainees as the Friar worked with them. Of course,
Tuesday evenings were team meeting nights, and she speculated about
what would be on the menu for the evening meal. More so, she
anticipated the outcome of the sparring sessions between Carson and
the Slovakian. It promised to be an interesting day. Donning baggy
jeans over her