Page 41 of Wild for the Knight

I brush my hands down the back of my legs to get the dirt off. Straightening, I smile, “Abby, nice to meet you. And don’t worry about it.” I look at her face, and something about it is off. There’s a tiny bit of sweat beading between her brows. Her eyes rapidly dart all over the place, never focusing on anything for too long. “Are you okay? Are you running from someone?”

Immediately, she straightens, pushing her glasses further up her nose. “No, I’m okay. Thank you, just running a bit late.” Uh-huh, very believable. But I don’t know this woman, and I have a date with ice cream, a massage, and a hotshot soccer player to get to.

I nod, “Okay, then. Have a good night.” Turning on my heel, I walk back to my car, the hair on my neck standing on end the entire time. When the door shuts behind me, I immediately lock it.

Picking up my phone, I call Tate. After what feels like forever and a day of ringing, he finally picks up. “Did you forget you needed something?” His gruff voice comes in barely audible over the rumble of his motorcycle.

“No, I just had a weird run-in with someone outside the gym.” My hand runs up and down my thigh, trying to ground myself to anything but where my mind wants to take this.

The tension in his voice comes through the phone loud and clear. “Are they gone?”

I look up to where I was previously to see Maria standing there, head lifting to me, then dropping to her phone. Like she’s trying to update whoever is on the receiving end of her texts, of my every move. So much for running late.

A pathetic sound leaves my throat, not out of fear, but out of annoyance. I thought this whole letter thing was just a one-off. This is starting to feel like maybe it’s not. “No, she’s still standing on the sidewalk watching me.”

“I’ll be there in five. Lock the doors if you haven’t already.” And then the line goes dead. I take a few deep breaths before I make my next phone call. Why Elliot wasn’t the first one I called, I don’t know. But I don’t have time to examine that right now.

One and a half rings before he answers, “Hey, sis. You okay?”

I run him through what just happened, telling him I hope it’s nothing, but just wanted to put it on his radar in case it isn’t. Of course, the man pulls up the cameras and watches the whole interaction. “I don’t see anything malicious. She didn’t pickpocket you or anything. But you can tell she was waiting for you. She definitely ran into you on purpose.”

His fingers fly across the keyboard in the background before a sharp inhale and an ‘oh shit’ is muttered under his breath. “What?” I ask, immediately on high alert.

“Can you turn your camera on?” I immediately turn on the video call, and the very pair of light blue eyes that’ll be staring into mine any minute stare back at me. Except he’s got his arms wrapped around the woman who just knocked me over. What the hell?

My confusion is short-lived when my brother starts reading her background. “Maria Nicole Bevetti, age twenty-seven, convicted of possession of an illegal substance, and one active restraining order placed on her by none other than Tatum Wilder.”

Nikki? Freaking Nikki? What is her angle here? Get to me to get to him? Over my dead body will I let this woman attempt to ruin his life again.

I hear the rumble of Tate’s Harley, the woman in question startles, and runs in the opposite direction. “Are you going to tell him?” I shake my head. What good would that do? It’d undo everything. He’d retreat into his jerkish self. And selfishly, I like this version of him. I don’t want him to go back to the man she turned him into.

“No. They’re doing so great this season. I want him to focus on that. At least until I can figure out what her motive is. I won’t let her hurt him again. But he’s here, I may have called him before you. So, I’ll call you later.” My brother narrows his eyes at me through the phone.

“Tell my future brother-in-law I said hi. And for the record, I think you keeping this from him is a horrible idea.” I wave him off as I hit the little red X that ends the call. I unlock my door seconds before his hand is on the handle.

The door flies open, and his arms come around my shoulders. “Are you okay? Did you get a good look? Could you pick her out of a lineup?” I chuckle at his rapid fire questions, my cheeks heating at the fact that he cares enough to ask.

I tilt my head back and press a kiss to the bottom of his chin, “Yes, and I called El. He’s pulling camera footage. He’ll figure it out.” His face angles down, his eyes full of concern, concern for me. God, this man is going to make it impossible not to fall in love with him, isn’t he?

He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “Can I take you home then?” He leans in and nips my bottom lip, “I was promised ice cream and butt rubs.” he whispers before taking a step back and walking back to his rumbly ride.

“Hey! Wait a minute!” I yell, “I was promised those things.” He throws a wink over his shoulder as he straddles his bike. Using his left foot to push up the kickstand, he nods his head in the direction of my apartment. I nod, silently agreeing to let him follow me. Ugh, my heart.

Unlocking the front door, I expect to be hit with puppy paws, then remember Harley went with Hannah to Grey’s. Sigh. Yet another thing I’m going to have to get used to. Before I can get too far in my head, a pint of Mint Chocolate chip ice cream is dangled in front of me. I grab it and run to the couch to settle in the corner. My usual spot for movie nights it’s like a cocoon. Our couch is fluffy and U-shaped, so there are two of these corners, but this one is mine.

Tate’s low chuckle pulls my attention from picking the movie. He hands me a spoon, a little spoon because he somehow knows I don’t like the big ones in the drawer. I grab the corner of the blanket lying on the back of the cushion, pulling it just enough to wrap it around both of us. His arm comes around my shoulder, pulling me into his chest. A satisfied sigh leaves me as I inhale the scent that has become my favorite. Very light Versace Eros, and the manly smell that is Tatum Wilder.

Chapter 21 - Tatum

The rollercoaster of emotions I’ve gone through over the last few hours isn’t lost on me. From being happy she asked me to come over, to being worried when she told me about the woman outside the gym. And now, the unmatched level of contentment as I sit here with her curled into my chest in the corner of the couch.

Whatever movie she picked plays in the background, but I couldn’t tell you a single plot point. All I see is her. The gentle rise and fall of her chest. The way her fingers absentmindedly run over the veins in my forearm, and the scent of her lavender shampoo that hangs in the air between us. I rest my head against hers, breathing her in before breaking the silence. “I’m really glad you called.”

She pauses the movie and turns in my arms so she’s facing me. Our lips are only a breath apart like this. It’s the kind of close that makes me hyper-aware of how easy it would be to erase the space. To take what I wish I knew I could have had for the past two years. I could so easily lay her down and kiss the hell out of her, but I don’t.

Instead, I whisper, “I missed you.” And I did. We had an away game this week, meaning I haven’t had my fix of her for four days.

Her eyes search my face for something, maybe reassurance, or she’s trying to find a lie. Try as she might, she won’t find one. In the span of a month, this woman has buried herself so deep underneath my skin that when she’s not around, it’s like I’m missing a limb. Her absence is palpable, the silence is heavy, and I itch to have her back in my orbit the second she leaves it. An addiction I can’t quite break. One I don’t think I want to.