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Emilie stared at me for a moment before letting out a laugh. It was the first time I had heard her laugh since we met. The sound was like music to my ears. It was light and carefree.
“You’re such a charmer,” she said, shaking her head.
I grinned. “Only for you.”
Emilie turned her gaze away from me, staring off into the distance. I could tell there was something on her mind. The way her jaw was clenched and the furrow in her brow made it apparent.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, reaching out to touch her hand.
“Nothing.” She pulled her hand away. “I wasn’t talking about the flowers. I heard you got into a fight yesterday.”
“So much for the secrecy of the club.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Why what?”
“Why did you get in a fight?”
“Technically, I didn’t get in a fight. There were a few words exchanged. There was no physical contact.”
“Why did you almost fight?” She wasn’t going to let it go.
“Some asshole, pardon my language, was talking shit.”
She slowly chewed her food. “Some asshole was talking shit.”
I laughed. “Princess!” I pretended to be horrified.
“You should know I am not a very good princess. If you’re expecting a dainty, elegant lady, that’s not me.”
“I’m not expecting anything,” I said. “And I’m glad you’re not an uptight princess.”
“Back to what happened.” She waved a hand and looked very much like a princess.
“The guy made a crude comment. That’s it. I told him to stop.”
She studied me for several seconds. “I think that’s a very watered-down version, but I get it. Who was it?”
“It’s not important.”
“It is. I’d like to see who felt it was okay to disrespect me.”
“Can you just trust me when I say I handled it?” I asked quietly. “He’s not going to say anything to you. If he does—”
“Let me guess, you’ll defend my honor,” she said sarcastically.
I couldn’t help but smile at her. “Something like that.”
She rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was pleased. “Fine. I trust you. But just know this—I don’t need a hero. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself. I don’t need someone to save me.”
“Just maybe I need to be able to do a little saving,” I said. “It wasn’t just you he was talking about. The guy was extremely disrespectful about his own match. I didn’t like it. And you can never tell anyone I said that. No one is supposed to talk about what is said at the club.”
She laughed again. “Please don’t tell me you actually believe that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Uh, the men gossip more than the women.”
