22. Knight #2
He grinned lopsidedly. “That’s a gift for you. You have expensive tastes, not I. Ritchie Carmichael? He’s a young one. Lacks ambition, which his mother laments, but dad thinks it’s great. Continuation of the family business is assured.”
Roger winced. “Oh, Ritchie. I hate that punk. He always told on us. Do you remember the wedding where I lit the bride’s dress on fire? He was only six or something, but he still got me nailed for it.”
“That was you?” I said, frowning at Roger. “She was in the dress when it went up.”
Roger shrugged and gave me a gleaming smile.
“I know. I packed the skirt with the flare before she put it on, set up a timer and everything so it would light up while she went down the aisle. It was neat work for a twelve-year-old. If they didn’t want the flares to be used, they shouldn’t have had them lying around where anyone could get them. ”
“Locked on the boat,” I said, frowning a little deeper at him as I recalled the details. “You only help me because you like being the bad guy on the good team, don’t you? If you were a bad guy on the bad team, it wouldn’t be rebellious enough for you.”
Roger and Trevor laughed like I was joking.
I wasn’t. I took psychology seriously, particularly the messy minds and impulses of anyone as dangerous as these two jokers.
Had Trevor actually read Trixie’s future, or her psyche?
He’d done something. I intensely disliked anyone doing anything to her against her will.
I should tell her everything. Come clean and hope that she could forgive me.
But that wouldn’t work because I had to protect her, and she might forgive, but she wouldn’t stay.
She needed me, and I wouldn’t let her down.
“So what do you want us to do with little Ritchie?” Roger said, sipping his brandy and looking like an advertisement for an exotic getaway.
“Check his family, his relations, those who might be concerned about his future.”
Roger raised a brow. “What are your plans for him? His family is relying on him being a steadfast workhorse in his father’s company. His mother, on the other hand…” He whistled.
I rolled my eyes and headed toward the door. “You can do a background check on everyone in the family, including the mother.”
“A background check,” Roger said, looking flat, like I’d disappointed him. “Seriously? That’s what you think my skills are good for?”
“Specifically illegal activities. Also, you may consider what illegal activities it would be easy to frame them for.”
Trevor’s eyes boggled while Roger got a slow, sneaky smile. “Now that sounds much better.”
“If by better you mean worse, yes. I have to get home.”
“To the missus.”
“Roommate. And yes.”
It took me five minutes to get back to the door, the one that hid her where she was curled up on her bed, reading a manual, or eating a cracker, or something else.
I knocked, and then it opened, and there she was. Goddess. Glorious. Perfection. All she needed to do was lean in and kiss me, and I’d be dead and gone to heaven. She grabbed me and pulled me inside, slamming the door behind me.
“What’s wrong?” Her eyes were intent, her full, luscious lips pressed in a firm line.
“Wrong? Oh, because I’m home early.” What reason could I give her other than that I’d missed her? “I just forgot some signatures I need and thought I’d check on you instead of going straight to my place.”
She stepped back, releasing her hold on me and crossing her arms. She looked like the goddess of judgment and decrees. “Signatures for what?”
“There’s a diet soda deal. Promo thing.” That wasn’t a lie. And I did have signatures on my bedroom desk that I could show her to prove I wasn’t lying.
Her brow furrowed. “And you needed those today? Now?”
“Well…I also missed my favorite house guest and wanted to check up on her. How are you feeling? Do you need me to carry you somewhere?” I flexed my muscles and tried to look ridiculous.
Her eyes grew large and doe-like as they caught on my arms. Was that a slight blush on my goddess’s cheeks? She took a few steps away from me, bumped into the bed, and would have toppled if I hadn’t scooped her up in my arms.
She fit so perfectly. We stared at each other, my goddess resting her hand on my pectoral like she wanted to feel my heart beating.
If she wanted to rip it out of my chest and hold it in her hand, I had absolutely no objections.
How long could we stare at each other without it getting weird?
I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t look away the same way she couldn’t tell Nix that I wasn’t her baby’s daddy.
Her stomach grumbled, and she frowned down at it like it betrayed her.
And now I could breathe. I laughed and carried her out of her room towards the kitchen.
We had so many leftovers. I’d never really eaten leftovers before, but they weren’t terrible if you knew how to heat things up.
Trixie knew how to heat things up. Particularly me.
I carefully lowered her into her chair at the table, put her feet up on the bench under the table for that sole purpose, and then went to the fridge to round up lunch.
“Your drive isn’t too long. You could come home for lunch every day,” she said, like she wanted me to come home for lunch. Because my apartment was home to both of us.
I hid my face in the fridge so she couldn’t see my maniacal grin. “If you wouldn’t mind. Then I could save money on lunches. Leftovers are much cheaper.”
She snorted as I turned and stood with the turkey and condiments for sandwiches with the artisanal bread, along with fancy cucumber salad. I didn’t realize cucumber salad was fancy, but if Trixie said it was, then it was.
“You spend way too much money.”
“Do I? But shouldn’t I enjoy my money? I work hard for it.” I put everything on the table and then started slicing uneven pieces of bread. Not as uneven as they were two weeks ago.
“There’s a difference between enjoying your money and being careless with it.
Does having an apartment this big really make you that much happier than having a smaller apartment and building your savings portfolio?
This game doesn’t last forever, and then what?
You could open a gym, like my dad, but I’m not sure you have the patience to deal with other young hotheads. ”
I sat down and carefully slathered on the right amount of mayo for her, which was a lot. “I’ve been saving twenty percent of my income since I started.”
She inhaled sharply. “Really?”
She looked so concerned, as if I’d lie about having a savings plan.
It did something catastrophic to my heart.
She worried about my future security. She cared about me.
I carefully ruffled her curls. They were so silky, springy, soft.
“Really. I know the game doesn’t last forever.
It’s actually lasted much longer than I expected, and been much more lucrative than I could have dreamed.
Do you mind if I play the piano?” I had to do something, and it was play my emotions out or kiss her and kiss her.
She frowned and shook her head. “Of course I don’t mind if you play the piano in your own house.”
“Great. You grab the sandwiches.” I picked her up so quickly that she barely had time to hold on to the plates before I was carrying her to the piano.
I set her down on the top, sat down, and started to play. I had so many feelings triggered by her caring about my future, that I had to express them. Either I was going to drop to my knees and beg her to let me love her forever, or I was going to play something equally emotional.
Le Cygne. Emotions bubbling up like water over the rim of a glass, spilling beauty over every other part of my life.
Even if she couldn’t possibly like me, much less love me, I loved her.
Which is why I was going to deal with the Carmichael situation as soon as I finished this song. And then I’d let her leave.