I slide closer to her. “Don’t do it. You clearly have a problem. Think about what happens when it’s gone.”
She takes a small step back. “I need this. I’ve had a hell of a day, and these cookies kind of make everything better for the two minutes I nibble and savor them.”
It’s almost a whine, and I’d get her a thousand more if she asked.
Her eyes grow wide. “Where do you get them? I’ll buy two dozen. I’m convinced they’re laced with crack. I have no idea how you just eat one or let them sit in the back of the freezer this long. It’s like they call to me. You must have the self-control of a man made of steel.”
I do, but she’s testing every ounce at the moment. I’ve never had an issue with self-control, but I’ve also never been challenged in the ways I’m beginning to understand a man can be.
“I can’t just order more. They’re specially made. For me.” All it would take is a phone call, but there is no way in hell I’m telling her that. I want to see if she’s really going to eat it.
She grazes the edge with her teeth, nibbling.
I move forward a yard from her, and she stops. “Don’t you even dare.” I stare her down. “When I win the next game, I expect that to be tucked safely in the back of the freezer where it belongs.”
She doesn’t move, the cookie poised and ready to be devoured.
I take another little step forward, but she eases away, watching me. “Put the cookie back in there, and nobody gets hurt, Ryder.”
“Matthews, you have absolutely nothing sweet in this place. I’ve been robbed and starved of all the best sugary things in life while I’ve been making sure your ass doesn’t get popped.” Her eyes bore into me. “I’m eating this cookie. You can get more from wherever these came from, but make sure you order extras next time.”
She brings the cookie to her lips, and I rush her. She laughs but slides out of my reach.
She steps back slowly as she carefully takes a bite.
I rush her again, and she darts away, but not quick enough. I catch her waist, hauling her against me and off the ground, reaching. . .
Before I realize what’s happening, the cookie shatters on the floor, and I find myself right next to it, staring up at the ceiling, trying to suck air into my lungs.
I can barely make Ryder out through the blur and stars clouding my vision. Her shadow towers over me, her hand over her mouth, and her eyes wide.
Pain radiates from the place right under my left ribs and behind my knees, where she swept my legs out from under me.
When I can finally breathe again, I moan. “Ssshhiiiittt.”
She remains still, only staring at me. I blink, staring back. Her dilated pupils begin to retract, and her fists drop to her sides.
“I. . . I’m sorry.” Her voice is almost a whisper. She takes a step closer but keeps her distance. “Are you ok?”
I evaluate my body, filling my lungs with air to be sure I can. “I’m fine. I think.”
She takes another hesitant step and kneels on the tile beside me. “Are you sure? Did you hit your head?” Her fingers carefully glide over my scalp, and I let them, my pain momentarily relieved by her closeness.
“Uh. . . I haven’t been sacked that hard in a while.”
Fuck, maybe ever.
She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to hide a small smile. Her hands fall from my head, moving to my ribs, but she stops before touching me and tucks them in her lap. “Are your ribs ok?”
I move a little, and there’s a twinge of pain, but they’re good. “Yeah.”
“Your back?” She offers me her hand, and I take it, grunting as I sit up.
“It took the brunt of it.”
I press my fingers to the spot below my ribs where she slammed her elbow into me with enough force to definitely break something.
“I’m good. I can’t let the guys see the massive bruise that’s sure to be there.”
