Knight (Unfinished Hero #1)(16)

Okay, that explained that.

At the same time it absolutely did not.

“Why?” I whispered.

“What?” Knight didn’t whisper.

“Why? Why did you take that trouble or, I mean, send boys to do it? You barely know me.”

And that was when Knight Sebring laid it out and when he did, I didn’t feel tingles. I felt shivers. I just didn’t know what the shivers meant.

“Babe, your clothes. Shit. But you work ‘em and you do because you’ve got one serious fantastic body, your hair is even better and your face is a face that launches a thousand hard-ons. Trust me, any man you’ve looked at probably since you were thirteen has jacked off thinkin’ of you. All this is a recipe for disaster if you live alone in an unsecured building with a lock like the one you got. Someone had to step up. Seein’ as you aren’t the only one who lives here and my guess, at least one person in that building bitched and nothin’ got done, so I stepped up. It took my boys an hour. Your landlord was a dick so it was an hour they enjoyed. Not a big deal. Now take the f**kin’ phone.”

“Trust me, any man you’ve looked at probably since you were thirteen has jacked off thinkin’ of you.”

Did this mean him too?

Oh my God!

“Anya,” he growled, it was a scary growl so I lifted my hand immediately and took the box.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“I don’t know what to do to thank you,” I muttered back.

“I ask for gratitude?” he asked and I shook my head so he went on, “Then, I will now. Use that phone. Don’t sell it. Don’t set it aside. Take it upstairs. Charge it. Use the piece a’ shit you got, if it works long enough, to tell your people your new number which is written in the shit in the box. Then use the phone. That’s how you can thank me.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Fuck,” he whispered back then he turned to leave.

To leave!

Was that it?

All this effort, money and a vulgar compliment that still managed to be a whopper and he just leaves?

I turned to watch him go and found my voice calling, “Knight?”

One step from the sidewalk, he halted, twisting his torso to look up at me.

I didn’t know what to say. He laid the terms out for his “gratitude” but I got more out of them than he did so I felt some other gesture was in order. I doubted he’d want a manicure or facial so I was at a loss.

“Anya, told you, got shit to do,” he prompted and I shook myself to get it together.

Then I said softly, “Thank you,” not believing I was thanking a man I barely knew for having my landlord beat up and giving me a new phone the money it cost could buy a used car (a crappy one, but still) but doing it anyway.

His eyes held mine. Then he shook his head while turning away.

Then he was gone.

I walked up to my apartment. Then I plugged in my new phone to charge. Then I found the new number and used my old phone to text it to everyone in my phonebook. In the middle of this, my old phone died.

Not long after, I went to bed.

I tossed. I turned.

And when I finally slept, I dreamt of Knight.

Chapter Four

Only for Me

Mission accomplished last Saturday, we got our night with risotto, facials and Chris Hemsworth and Sandrine participated in the festivities. She did it bitching about Nick though not through the movie, not even Sandrine could bitch about a hot guy jerk while Chris Hemsworth was on screen.

Now it was a week later and Viv, Sandrine and I were dolled up and on the town because Sandrine was on a tear. Nick still hadn’t called and Sandrine, being Sandrine, still hadn’t given up.

Viv was out because she was in the mood to be out. The reason she wasn’t at Nick’s party was because she knew, like I knew, he was a jerk and she had no desire to spend time with him or his crew. So she didn’t.

I was either a pushover or too exhausted from my busy life to bear up against a Sandrine Onslaught so I went.

Tonight, though, I was in Viv’s mood.

It had been just over a week and nothing from Knight. No more chivalrous gestures, no matter how scary, scarily generous or criminal. Nothing.

I wanted to let it go and be relieved. I had a phone. It was awesome and did way more than taking calls, it did email, internet, apps, the whole shebang, all of this looking cool as hell and like something NASA designed but fifty years from now… it was the bomb. I had a safer apartment building and so did all my neighbors. He told me in no uncertain terms he found me attractive but he didn’t stop by and before he left didn’t say he would contact me nor did he ask for a date. So the only thing I could assume was that although he was scary, he still was a man who saw that something needed to be done and he did it. It was a lot more than him hearing I needed a ride and him giving it to me but, bottom line, it seemed simply that was who he was and the kind of thing he did.

So he did his thing and onward.

For a guy like him, I was probably a memory.

I didn’t like this and yet I did. I was relieved and upset. It was odd. And these feelings weren’t fading. Not even a little.

Which sucked. Not just because they weren’t fading but because they were confusing as all get out.

I still wondered if he thought about me when he was doing a certain deed. After a few days of trying to convince myself I didn’t as well as trying not to think about it at all, and failing at both, I admitted to myself that I liked this idea even as it freaked me out just how much I did (which was a lot). However, it was highly unlikely a man like him ever needed his fist, as in ever, so it was also highly doubtful.