Middle of Knight (10 page)

“Oh, wow … you have kids?”

Ryn didn’t realize she was just one of many victims that fell for that line.

“Not yet, but mine
will be
awesome.”

She nodded slowly. “I see … sort of. Well, I’d invite you in but—”

“Great. I’d love to.” He squeezed through the small opening. “Nice place.”

There was nowhere to hide.

“Thanks. I’m kind of in need of a shower and clean clothes, and I was just getting ready to eat—”

“Great. I’m starving.” He slid his hands in his back pockets and grinned.

Jackson looked much more edible than anything she had in her kitchen.

“O-kay, we’re having dinner together now?”

“Of course. I need to know if my future wife can cook?”

Ryn laughed. It was a nervous laugh, a so-we’re-still-playing-this-game laugh. “It’s egg salad.”

“Minus the egg shells?”

She gave him a crazy look. “Yes.”

“Great.”

“Great,” she replied, amused at how many times he had said ‘great.’ Jackson Knight was easy to please. She hoped that would work in her favor.

The exotic, inked human specimen looked out of place sitting at her kitchen table. It had two chairs on one side and a bench seat on the other. Jackson took the bench, propping his legs on it, crossed at the ankles.

“So I don’t have a lot of money…” she handed him a plate with the sandwich and small wedge of watermelon “…and my first wedding was in my parents’ backyard where I wore a hundred dollar dress from JC Penny. I want the fairytale wedding with a one-of-a-kind Vera Wang dress, six bridesmaids, and Ed Sheeran singing at my reception. Is my future husband willing to give me that?” Ryn sat across from Jackson, taking a bite of her sandwich to mask her grin.

“That depends. At what frequency do you see you and your future husband having sex?”

She covered her mouth with a napkin to keep from spitting her partially-chewed bite across the table. “Um …” she cleared her throat. “Three? Four times? I think that’s pretty average.”

“Clearly my future wife doesn’t understand we will be anything but average, but I will agree with her for now to four times a day as long as it’s open to negotiation for more in the future.”

“Day?” She choked.

“Yes, day,” he confirmed, biting into the wedge of watermelon. “Surely with the one-of-a-kind dress
and
Ed Sheeran, you weren’t implying per week … were you?”

She gulped down some water, shaking her head. “No … no of course not.”

Jackson took a mammoth bite of his sandwich and smirked. “I didn’t think so,” he mumbled.

The conversation crossed the line from fun to really uncomfortable.

“Who’s twins are at your house?”

“AJ’s ex-wife’s.”

“Oh, isn’t it a little odd that his ex-wife and her family are staying at your house?”

“So you get it too? Good, it’s not just me.” Jackson nodded. “His son has his first game tomorrow so the whole damn family flew to Omaha and my sister, who lives off instinct and usually bad instinct at that, said they could stay with us since AJ doesn’t have room for everyone at his house.”

“Well she’s a better woman than I am. That would be too weird and uncomfortable for me.”

“Jillian makes her own rules as she goes and nobody understands them but her.”

They finished eating, with Ryn giving him a look of incredulity as Jackson returned his usual cocky smirk. She put their plates in the dishwasher, feeling rather awkward about their odd dinner. “Well, I uh … need a shower.”

Jackson stood. “I like showers.”

She coughed out a laugh. The problem was, he wasn’t laughing. Her heart raced, making it impossible to calm her breathing and hide her nerves. “Yeah, sure. We’ve known each other for what? Not even three weeks?”

“Three and a half and so what?”

He possessed an over-the-top confidence. That wasn’t good because her you’re-ten-years-younger-than-me insecurities seemed to match his level of confidence.

“
So
we’re not taking a shower together.”

“Why?” He took one step toward her.

Her heart felt like a humming bird in her chest. “Because that would mean you’d see me naked.”

“So?”

“So that’s just not going to happen.”

“How are we going to have sex four times a day if I can’t see you naked?”

“In the dark. We would only have it in the dark.” The absurdity of their roleplaying both baffled and thrilled Ryn.

“Why the modesty? You’re ten times sexier than you think you are, and once you realize that, it’s going to double.”

“Agreed. You want to see me
feel
sexy? Then you have to let me
look
sexy first. And that will require some preparation.”

“Preparation?”

His interest in her should have been flattering, but it wasn’t because he was ten years younger and he was a guy. He could never understand the emotional barricades she had to overcome with her own insecurities … insecurities brought to the surface
because
he was ten years younger and looked like sex personified. Even if she were his age, his interest in her would be hard to believe and still unnerving.

“Yes, my body requires more maintenance than yours for it to look and run right.” Her breasts had been held hostage in a compression sports bra all day and they were going to look like roadkill when she removed it. Every woman who has worn one knows about this horrific side effect. They would require a very cold shower to perk up a little and convince her nipples it was safe to come out. Then there was the small issue of grooming. She had pubic hair—not too common anymore. There stood a good chance that Jackson had never actually seen pubic hair on a woman. It was bushy … very bushy.

“I’ll wait.”

“Wait, what do you mean wait?”

He made a shooing motion with his hand. “Go
prepare
, come back downstairs, then we’ll go back upstairs and shower together.”

“That makes no sense. I’ll have already showered.”

“Well then when do men shower with you? Apparently not when you need a shower nor when you’ve just had a shower.”

Most. Bizarre. Conversation. Ever … times one hundred.

“Men
don’t
shower with me.”

“Ever? You’ve never showered with a man?”

Was that so strange?

“No. Why are we having this conversation?”

“You started it.”

“Wh—I did not!”

“Fine.” He took two long strides. Palming the back of her head, he kissed her.

It wasn’t a peck or a partial kiss like before, it was the full kiss—the kind meant for tasting, not just feeling. The kind where his tongue couldn’t get enough of her. She could have faded into the moment had she not thought about the egg salad she just ate, her breasts trapped beneath a heavy layer of cotton and spandex, and the bush overgrowth—a visual chastity belt.

“No!” She wriggled from his embrace as his hand went for her breast—her squashed, speed bump uniboob.

“Sorry.” He held his hands up while pulling his brows together as if he’d stepped on her toe. “Too fast. I-I’m sorry.”

“No, not too fast …” She put her hands over her face, shaking her head. “God, does that make me sound easy or what? Sorry, I’m really not good at this.” On a deep sigh, her hands fell from her face. “If you let me shower,
alone
, I promise to return as the much more put-together version of myself. Deal?”

The smile on his face held so much promise, but his eyes filled with expectation. Expectation that on her best day after hours of cosmetic surgery, and a lobotomy to erase the memories of her past, she could never live up to.

*

Gunner wasted no
time earning Jackson’s respect. While Ryn threw together the best version of herself, which he deemed ridiculous because it was impossible to improve on stunning, Gunner stood guard at the bottom of the stairs looking at Jackson with an I’ll-tear-you-apart look on his face.

The second Jackson started to move, either toward the window or the kitchen, Gunner gave him a warning growl. There would be no snooping through Ryn’s things on Gunner’s watch.

“Better?” Ryn smiled as she came down the stairs wearing a long black and gray striped skirt with a red sleeveless top.

“Clearly you don’t understand what draws me to you, but I can see you feel more confident in that.”

She frowned.

The guy who never slept with the same person twice wasn’t good at the emotional side of relationships. For years it had been his opinion that women’s clothes were nothing more than expensive wrapping paper.

New guy.

New opinions. What opinions? He wasn’t sure yet, but something told him women like Ryn didn’t have sex in alleys, and they needed constant reinforcement in the form of compliments—compliments beyond “I want to stick my dick in you.” So he reached into his magic hat and pulled out something that had nothing to do with sex.

“I’ll start with your lips. Even now when you tried to frown, one side stayed curled into a smile. It’s like your body rejects sadness.”

She stopped at the bottom step, paralyzed by his words.

“Then there are your freckles that give your face this rare innocence. And I would stare at them all day if your eyes weren’t so greedy. They demand my attention all the time.”

Ryn rubbed her lips together. “My eyes are greedy?”

“Yes, you should really be ashamed of them. Total attention hogs. But my point is really that I don’t care what you’re wearing. It doesn’t change what I’m looking at.”

“Oh …” she released a long breath “…wow, that’s … we should go for drinks. I think I need some liquid courage to respond to your comments that really leave me … speechless.”

“So speechless is good?”

Taking the last step with a bit of blush pinking her skin, chin down, she grinned. “Yeah, speechless is good.”

“You have a favorite bar?”

“I do.” Ryn grabbed her purse.

“After you.” He held the door open.

T
he almost forty-year-old
who had to pinch herself at least a dozen times in the car, received the ten minute summary of the sexiest and quirkiest guy alive. New York, parents died, and a string of temporary jobs was not what she imagined, but her history didn’t fit her either. At least she hoped it didn’t.

“What are you drinking tonight?” Jackson asked as she slid into a small dimly lit booth in the corner.

“Bloody Mary. That’s why I come here.” She pulled out her wallet.

“Don’t even.” He shook his head, walking to the bar.

After a few minutes of staring at his backside, she smiled to herself. He was right, her eyes were greedy. They wanted to be on him all the time. She looked away from him long enough to notice how many other sets of greedy eyes clung to his body. Then, as if her observation brought it on, several
younger
women moved in as though they were trapping him in their circle. One of them teased her finger over the cross tattooed on his arm. The twenty-something looked about Maddie’s age.

After breaking from the pack, the most sought after man in the bar found his way back to the booth.

“How great is it being you?”

He set her Bloody Mary down next to his beer then looked behind him at the predatory eyes still glued to him.

“Apparently not as great as being you.”

Ryn scooted over as he slid in next to her. Never before had a guy sat next to her in a booth when it was just the two of them. She glanced over at his growing fan club. They were all young, thin, and scantily dressed, which made Ryn feel every inch of her long, conservative skirt.

“I don’t think they’re jealous … I think they want to claw my eyes out, or maybe yours for being so blind.”

“Does my future wife need reminding that she’s the sexiest person in this place?”

An unavoidable laugh escaped. “Now you’re just being ridiculous. I’m not a self-professed wallflower, but
come on
 … I’m not them.”

“Thank God for that.” He slid his hand through her hair and brought her mouth to his.

Another all-in kiss. The demanding stroke of his warm tongue temporarily dissolved all thoughts of the women watching them. The way he held her mouth to his, not giving a damn what anyone else thought, told all those wanton eyes that he was not available … at least not that night.

The hand that wasn’t holding her head rested high on her leg then eased up until just his thumb brushed her bare skin where her skirt met her shirt. Ryn’s hands stayed clenched at her sides. They yearned to touch him, grab him, possibly attack him. Therefore, she deduced it best to hold still and let him lead the way.

Jackson released her lips, leaving her waiting for the next breath. An eternity later it reappeared, and she went straight for her drink, guzzling it down to the very last drop. A stalk of celery, a straw, and a spear through an olive and baby pickle mingled with the ice in the bottom.

He stared at her with a shit-eating grin. “So you like the Bloody Mary here, huh?”

Taking a bite of the celery, she nodded. “Uh huh, it’s an in-house mix, the best tomato juice, fresh lemon, and a dash of bitters. And I’m going to need another pretty quick before we can talk about that kiss.”