Page 6 of Wild for the Knight

Of course, he doesn’t. Instead, he slips it into his back pocket and crosses his arms over his chest as he stares down at me. Damn him for looking so good while being so infuriating. He’s wearing black joggers that hug his thighs perfectly, his black muscle tee cutting in at the shoulders, leaving his deliciously veiny arms on display. I want to pull a sweatshirt over his head so no one else can admire him, while simultaneously punching him in the throat for being such a giant wanker.

“What. Was. That?” he grits out, enunciating every word with a little extra force than necessary. Oh, nope, not today, sir.

“Excuse me?” I step in closer, jabbing my finger into his chest hard enough to get him to stumble back into the wall. Good. “I could ask you the same thing, considering you left me sitting at Beautiful Pour for an hour before I gave up on you being a decent human.” I let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

His eyebrows lift in surprise like he’s just now putting the pieces together. I don’t give a damn though. He’s sadly mistaken if he thinks that’s all I have in store for him.

“You wanted to be a part of this. You insisted, actually.” I step further into his space, angling my head up so I can meet his gaze. “Yet, when it comes time to actually, you know, do something, you simply what? Forget?” My arms cross over my chest. The anger running through my veins makes my fingers twitch against my arms. His face, like always, gives nothing away. That blank stare grinds every gear in my body.

“But surrrreeeee.” I drag it out with an overly exaggerated eye roll. “You have time to show up at the gym, no big deal, right?” I scoff as his face pulls tight. “Must be nice not to have a care in the world and no consideration for someone else’s time.” His expression shifts, softens even. Still, I don’t care. He doesn’t get to weasel his way out of this one.

“But don’t worry about it,” I say calmly, waving a dismissive hand between us. “Like I said before, I’d rather do this by myself.” I arch one eyebrow and raise my hand in line with his chest, “Now give me my phone and get out of my way.”

His jaw relaxes to the point that his lips part, and for a fleeting moment, I feel a pang of guilt. But then I remember who I’m dealing with and tada, the feeling vanishes.

“Abby, I’m so—” I cut him off, raising my hand higher, silently asking for my phone again.

“I don’t want an apology, Tatum.” His silence only fuels my rage. My teeth grind together with such force that I half expect them to crack. “Give me my phone. I have places to be.”

To my surprise, he pulls it from his pocket, his challenging gaze locked onto mine as he drops it into my open palm. I pocket it as the fingers on my other hand brush across his cheek, my touch deceptively soft. His eyes widen slightly as they flicker with something I don’t care enough to name. I pat his cheek twice, firm, slow, letting my fingers linger just a second longer than appropriate for our acquaintanceship.

“Stay out of my way.” My voice is a razor-sharp whisper, a threat wrapped in the finest silk. That man is going to learn today. Stepping to the side, I brush past him. With every step toward the door, I feel his gaze trailing after me, heavy, steady, like a spotlight following my every move.

Chapter 3 – Tatum

I messed up. I completely forgot about our meeting this morning. When Zeke asked me to check out a gym Reed told him about, the last thing I expected was to see her here. Not only that, but the way her strength was on display, I was mesmerized.

Each punch and pivot was so fluid that it looked like she was dancing. Her tan, toned stomach flexed with every movement, twin braids swinging with each powerful punch. The beads of sweat rolling down her back accentuated the divots of the muscles there. Then, the guy holding the mitts had to call her Butterfly, and I felt a wave of jealousy I hadn’t felt in a long time. Why did that bother me so much? It’s her for crying out loud.

Abby is tiny, but all muscle–muscle she’s kept hidden under baggy sweatshirts, scrubs, and lounge pants. This new development adds an additional layer to the Terrifying Pixie nickname. She could probably kick my ass.

“Be right back,” I call over my shoulder at Zeke, who’s watching our interaction with rapt attention.

I jog out the door, my legs quickly eating up the distance between the two of us. “Abby!” Her head turns, looking at me over her shoulder. Light brown eyes stare back at me with nothing but pure annoyance. She doesn't stop, just keeps walking like she didn’t just rip me a new one in the middle of the gym.

“What do you want?” she asks, her tone clipped as she continues to her car.

I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I completely forgot. Can we try again tomorrow? Please.”

She turns fully toward me, arms crossing as she goes. The move brings my attention to the curve of her shoulders, my eyes slide down the outline of her tricep that runs so elegantly along the backs of her arms, smooth skin over lean muscle, strength wrapped in silk. Or sandpaper, depends on the day.

A strand of blonde hair slips free from behind her ear, she doesn’t even bother trying to tuck it back in. Her hard gaze is still locked on mine, she’s not concerned with a stray hair. No, she’s in self-preservation mode, the way her fingers dig into her arms like she’s holding herself back gives her away.

“I’m not going to waste my time,” she finally says. “I have a life outside of planning this. You already have the schedule we made last week. Show up or don’t, I don’t care.”

I should let it go. Now would be a great time to turn around and walk right back inside. But I don’t. There’s something about the finality in her tone, the defiance in her posture... It sets off the asshole in me. So, instead, I step closer, lowering my voice. “You really think you can handle this all by yourself?”

Her eyes flicker, recognizing the challenge I just laid down. “I know I can. Unlike you, I do what I say I will.”

My laugh is so dry that it catches me off guard. “That’s right.” I bring my hand to my necklace, running it back and forth in the crook of my finger before pointing at her. “Because you’re always in control of everything.”

Her nostrils flare, the hand on the strap of her gym bag tightening. My attention settles on the rings she placed back on her fingers, a signature Abby Knight feature. “At least I can handle my responsibilities.” The venom in her voice has my eyes snapping back up to hers. She holds my gaze for a beat before turning toward her car. I wait until her hand is on the handle before saying.

“Whatever you say, Butterfly.”

Her body tenses, and she quickly turns to glare over her shoulder. Her braids fly from where they were in front of her shoulders to hang down her back. Yeah, butterfly is fitting. If said butterfly also breathed fire. “Don’t call me that.”

If it were anyone else, this is where I’d concede and walk away, but not with her. I grab her chin between my thumb and pointer finger, bringing my face mere inches from hers. She winces as I squeeze just a bit too hard. “Or what?”