She’d walked through the front gates of Black Knights Inc. filled with nervous jitters and with her father’s words ringing in her ear.“You’re the president’s eyes and ears with this crew. Don’t let her down. Don’t letmedown.”
Of course, every thought had fallen straight out her head when she’d spied the man pacing in front of the garage doors.
His hair had looked light brown until he’d stood in direct sunlight. Then the rays had glinted off the lighter strands and turned him into a blond god. His long legs had been encased in denim that’d showcased the muscles in his thighs and the high, tight curve of his ass. And his mouth…
She’d been struck dumb by the remarkable beauty of his mouth and had since determined it was the mouth of Tom Hardy and Brad Pitt’s love child.So firm and full and perfect. With a cupid’s bow that looked like it’d been carved into his face by a master sculptor and a plump bottom pad that invited the nip of her teeth and the lick of her tongue.
He’d been humming softly to the baby in his arms. And the smile he’d flashed her when she’d stopped next to him had been so bright and blinding, she’d simply stood there and blinked.
He’d introduced himself and little Hazel, the daughter of Boss and Becky Knight, and his deep, Southern drawl had sounded like a song she knew was going to be her favorite from then on. Oh, and something magical had happened in her stomach.
There’d been a fluttering sensation, both delightful and sickening.
Butterflies,she’d realized with a start. She’d never truly experienced the sensation until that day.
She’d been experiencing it every day since.
Each time he smiled at her.
Each time he bickered with her.
Each time she had to pretend to be annoyed with him when the truth was she yearned for him like she’d never yearned for anything or anyone in her entire life.
“You’re not passed out on the floor with a brain bleed, are ya? Do I need to bust down the door?”
The sound of his voice, so close, had her jumping and quickly turning the knob to throw open the door. The hallway light blazed into her room, causing his tall shadow to fall over her.
There they are. Right on cue. Those damned butterflies.
“I’m okay,” she assured him. “Thanks for checking.”
His hazel eyes looked brown in the artificial light, but she knew they flashed pirate’s gold in the sun. And like a pirate, he’d stolen her heart.
His daring and bravery and uncompromising dedication to his teammates had been unlike anything she’d known before. And if that’d been all there was to him, she probably would’ve grown to admire and respect him just like she’d grown to admire and respect the rest of her guys.
What’d made her heart go pitter-pat, and what’d ultimately allowed him to abduct the damn organ completely, was his wit and whimsy. The way he could be equal parts strong and soft. How he never made her feel small or less-than, because even when he was teasing and tormenting her there was always an undercurrent of good-hearted admiration in his words.
In short, Fisher was generous and genuine, steadfast and true. The best example of a legitimatelygoodperson that she’d ever had the honor to meet.
Now, she watched his eyes as they tracked over her face, lingering on the swelling at her temple and then fixing on the bruise on her cheek.
“I know.” She gave him a baleful glance. “It looks awful. And believe me when I tell you, it feels worse than it looks.”
The string of curse words that tumbled out of his mouth were so scorching she wouldn’t have been surprised to turn around and find her curtains had spontaneously combusted. He finished the litany with, “Welp, there’s only one thing to do then.”
She lifted the eyebrow on the eye thatdidn’tfeel like it had its own heartbeat.
“Get ya tucked in,” he finished. His Southern drawl somehow drew out the four syllables into about six or seven. “Like that wet-behind-the-ears doctor said, sleep is the best thing for ya.”
When he stepped over the threshold, she stumbled back. And when he cupped a hand around her elbow to steer her toward the bed, it was enough to send those silly butterflies into a frenzy.
Four years.
They’d been colleagues for four years. Working together. Living together. And certainly arguing together—their arguing was legendary at BKI. But in all that time, he’d never stepped foot inside her bedroom.
Sure, he’d leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb to talk to her on a handful of occasions. Sure, he liked to drive her wild by grabbing the top of her doorframe and leaning into her room to wish her a good night—the move always made the hem of his T-shirt ride up so she got a nipple-tightening glimpse of his love trail. And sure, he’d sat outside her closed door to keep her company the time she’d come down with the flu two days before they’d been scheduled to fly out on an important assignment.
Quarantining herself had been the only sane thing to do. When she got sick, it was an inconvenience. Whentheygot sick in the middle of a mission? It could mean the difference between life and death.
