Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(91)

A brilliant smile spread across his face when he unhooked his hands from behind his head and turned slightly, tapping the traditional heart-and-arrow tattoo on his shoulder.

“What?” She blinked, confused.

“It was Patti,” he said at the same time she leaned closer, examining the design. Sure enough. The ink had faded, the tattoo obviously years old, but underneath the heart, inside a waving scrap of ribbon was his wife’s name: Patti.

“She spelled it with an I,” she mused almost to herself. “Just like I spell my name.”

“She did.” Dan nodded, watching her closely.

“Weird coincidence,” she said. Then a thought occurred. A terrible thought. An ugly thought. She was the first woman he’d been with after his wife. And his wife’s name was Patti spelled with an I. And her name was Penni spelled with an I. “Is that why you gave me that nickname in Malaysia?” she asked, her voice wobbling, her heart pounding. The room spinning and spinning and spinning.

Something flitted across his face. Something that made her breath catch. “Penni,” he said, “I—” But then he just stopped, snapping his mouth shut, the muscle in his jaw twitching spasmodically. He wasn’t going to lie to her.

“Oh my God!” She slapped a hand over her mouth and jumped from the bed. “You were afraid you’d call me by the wrong name, weren’t you?”

“Penni…” He reached for her, his eyes imploring.

She stumbled back, uncaring that she was standing there stark naked and blowing like she’d run a race. A chasm opened inside her. A huge, yawning void that swallowed her heart, her lungs, her ribs. It widened, pushing out until she was totally consumed by it. Lost in it until she was adrift in a gulf of pain and disappointment.

With a sigh, he curled his fingers into a fist and dropped his hand into his lap. “Please don’t be hurt. It’s not a reflection of you. It was me. I was thinking that I shouldn’t… I didn’t want… You were just so… Jesus, I’m f*ckin’ this up.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face, his eyes searching the footboard like maybe down there he would find the words to make it right. Forget about it. There were no words to make it right. She thought he called her Brooklyn because of her accent, because it was cute and sweet and special and—

But it was so he didn’t mix her up with his dead wife! The horror! The absolute horror!

“Look,” he finally said. “You’re right. I gave you that nickname ’cause you were the first and ’cause I was scared I’d slip up during the heat of things. And I didn’t want to do that, Penni,” he implored. “I didn’t want to hurt you. You’d been so…wonderful. And I—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A heavy fist landed on the door, making Penni jump. Her skin felt like she’d run through a clutch of stinging nettles. Her heart felt like it had exploded in that void that had become her chest. She needed to cry, but couldn’t. Felt like pulling her hair out, but didn’t. She just stood there, staring at the door as every hope she’d had about what she might mean to Dan was crushed into dust.

A rebound. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“You two figure you can stop testing each other’s suspension long enough to come down and listen to what Rock has to say about Winterfield?” Boss’s booming bass sounded through the door. “We’re gathering at the conference table in five…”

When she turned back, Dan searched her eyes, his own pleading for her to understand.

She swallowed the tears burning up her throat, swallowed the cry lodged in the center of her chest, and squared her shoulders. “We’ll be there,” she called, stumbling into the bathroom to grab her clothes. Hoping beyond hope that she could keep her shit together for just a little while longer.





Chapter Twenty-one


Black Knights Inc., Second Floor

Saturday, 3:52 p.m.

Zoelner was a ball’s hair away from drilling Ozzie in the face…

“Are you going to write me up for sexual innuendo?” Ozzie asked Chelsea, who was sitting across the conference table from them. She and Ozzie had been trading banter for what seemed like an eternity—although, in actuality, it had probably only been a minute or two.

“No.” Chelsea was grinning coquettishly—there was just no other word for it. “But I will grade you very strictly. I expect nothing but the best when it comes to flirtation.”

Zoelner’s back teeth set so hard he thought it a wonder he didn’t lose a filling.

“Good thing I was always a straight-A student.” Ozzie wiggled his eyebrows.

“If you two don’t cut it out,” Zoelner warned, “I’m liable to revisit those two hot dogs I ate earlier all over this conference table.”

“Gross, dude.” Ozzie frowned.

“My thoughts exactly.” Zoelner leveled him with a look that included Chelsea.

“Aw.” Ozzie batted his lashes. “Are you jealous again? I told you there’s enough Ozzie to go around. Come here, you big lug.” Ozzie hooked an arm around his neck and dragged his head over. “Let Ozzie give you some more lovin’, huh?”

When Ozzie went to kiss his head, Zoelner shoved his hand in Ozzie’s face, pushing him away and ducking from under his arm. He was grinning despite himself. Ozzie always had that effect on him. One minute he wanted to kick the bastard in the pork sword, the next minute he was trying not to laugh.