Page 43 of Wild for the Knight

I chew the rest of the bite I had just put in my mouth, but can’t hide the smile that slowly spreads across my face. “Hit me.”

She leans in slightly, eyes shining. “If you could describe me in three words, what would they be?” Danger zone, she doesn’t even realize what she’s asking me.

I shift in my chair, suddenly too aware of how close we are. Confident, “Annoying,” I say as I watch a scowl form on her face. Decisive, “Bossy.”

Her foot knocks against mine. “Careful, Baby Wilder.” I grin, but when she raises a brow, waiting for me to finish, I freeze. Irresistible.

I clear my throat. “Predictable.”

She gasps, “Well, that’s rich coming from you, Mr. I Only Wear Black and Kick Soccer Balls.”

I chuckle, but she doesn’t let me relax. “Okay, fine. What’s your death row meal?”

“Filet Mignon with a baked potato loaded with bacon, cheese, and butter.” She smiles around her fork, her eyes meeting mine before quickly returning to her plate. “What’s yours?” I ask with genuine interest.

She swallows, bringing my attention to her neck. The slender, sun-kissed column that my hand looks magnificent settled at the base of. “Chicken Parm. And lots of breadsticks.” I make a mental note to make that sometime in the near future.

“You said you paint, what's your favorite object to paint? Or is it more abstract?” she asks as she wipes the corner of her mouth with her napkin. I love that she’s asking about this. It isn’t the first time since we’ve been back that she’s asked, either. Maybe I’ll bring her to my apartment and let her rummage through the collection I’ve got going on there.

“It used to be people, but then the whole Nikki thing happened, and it turned into the first thing that came to mind mixed with whatever my emotions were at the time. A way to get them out, if you will.” I grab my phone and pull up the one I made just yesterday, flipping it to where she can see it. I hear her sharp intake of air.

It’s the mountain sunrise we sat and watched the first day we ran together. The mix of blues, purples, reds, and yellows really captured how I was feeling at that moment. Confused, intrigued, and annoyed that I had to get up and run unless I wanted an earful from Hannah. But it’s also a remembrance of where the first layer of Abby was pulled back. When she started to let me in for the first time. It wasn’t potshots and eyerolls, it was vulnerability and trust. Something I will never take for granted when it comes to her.

“It’s stunning. It looks exactly like it did. Tate, you’re amazing. You should sell these at the farmers market or something.” I love the sentiment, but me? In a market full of people, where I’d have to talk to them? Absolutely freaking not.

“Thanks,” I say as I tuck my phone back in my pocket.

She brings her hand to her mouth, tapping her index finger against it a few times before asking her next question. “If you could go back and change one thing about your life, what would it be?”

I don’t even have to think about it. “I would have spent more time loving you than hating you.” Her jaw drops as my admission lands.

“Are you saying you love me, Sunshine?” The words shock us both as they fall from her lips.

“I think I might...” Well slap my ass and call me Sally. That realization hits like a ton of bricks.

“I’m open!” I yell to Diaz as I sprint to the goal. This is our third game since our little vacation, and thanks to Abby’s need to work out, I haven’t had to reacclimate that much during practice. If anything, I find it easier because I’m not running up a mountain, in the cold, while it's dark, dodging an endless number of roots and branches that could lead to a twisted ankle. Or worse.

I pull the ball away from the defender and make my way toward the net. Remington comes up the left side. I pass it to him, narrowly avoiding getting my ankle stomped on. Quickly taking off to attempt to shake the guy behind me, I head left and then quickly change directions to the right. Remi picks up on it and sends the ball flying. I jump into the air and head the ball directly into the back of the goal.

I give my teammates a high five, only for my eyes to snag on a head of blonde hair as I turn back toward center field. She blinds me with her smile, her eyes hidden behind a pair of huge sunglasses, but I’d bet my life on the fact that they’re shining behind those frames. Jesus, she’s stunning. She’s here. She came to my game without me having to ask, and she’s wearing... It’s then that I notice Monroe standing next to her with a shit-eating grin on his face.

He slowly spins her around, my entire body tensing as I read the name on the back. She’s got Zeke’s jersey on. She meets my eye over her shoulder, raises her sunglasses, and winks. Monore follows suit and turns around so I can see my name across his back. These two, I swear, there isn’t a more ridiculous duo on the planet. I shake my head, making them both laugh. She’ll pay for that.

But right now, I have extra motivation to do what I do best. And maybe, I want to give her more of a reason to scream my name. Nothing else matters the second the ball’s in play. We’re first in our division, meaning we could lose every game from now until the playoffs start and we’d still be in them. Our team doesn’t work like that, though; we play like we’re right on the brink of making it every single game.

Our opponents have a strong defense, we knew that going into this game. I’ve been running my ass off nearly the entire game so far, they keep us on our toes. A formidable opponent makes for a good show. At halftime, we head to the locker room, my chest is heaving as I walk through the tunnels. I’m used to playing hard, it’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done, I watched my dad do it growing up, and then I watched Greyson do it. To me, hard work on the field is second nature, like I was born with it.

A hand comes down on my shoulder with a loud smack, I stop thinking it might be my coach, relaxing a bit when I see it’s Zeke with a water bottle extended to me in his other hand. “Like my surprise?” he asks quietly.

Confusion courses through me, water is a surprise? Is there some kind of superhero juice in here that’s going to all of a sudden turn me into a Ninja Turtle or something? I look down at the bottle before looking back at him, my left eyebrow hikes as I take in his face.

Running a hand through his hair, his head shakes as he chuckles. “I ran into Abby and Monroe on their way out of the practice facility. They did a demo on how to wrap for knee injuries with the junior teams this morning.”

Oh, yeah. She did mention she was doing something for the junior teams this week. I conveniently forgot that we had a junior team as well, though. “I gave them jerseys, although I had meant for her to wear yours.” I scoff, of course, he did. He’s been peppering me with questions every time I walk in the door after hanging out with her.

He knows, but he’s good at keeping secrets. He also understands why we’re keeping it quiet. “You two are good for each other. The push-and-pull thing you guys have going on,” he smirks. “It keeps things interesting,” he says as he walks further into the locker room.

I want to argue with him, mainly because it’s my default setting, but I can’t because he isn’t wrong. So instead, I give him a grunt, earning me a light chuckle as he smiles at me over his shoulder. Our coach scribbles across the whiteboard in his hand as he tells us all the things we’ve done well so far, what he thinks we could improve on, and how the offense of the Flames is getting tired as our defense is working double time to keep them from scoring.