No White Knight

My ass lands hard in a puff of yellow dust that flies up and spills back down, coating my freshly dry-cleaned black suit.

I’m dusty all over in an instant. Hurting like hell, too.

Big things fall harder, and I’m a tall man, so damn if my own muscle mass hasn’t left me bruised and throbbing in places I’d rather not be.

For a second, I lie there groaning.

Just taking it all in, my arms and legs akimbo while I stare up at the sky.

Then I can’t stop laughing.

That gets her attention. I blink, and she’s bending over me, filling my field of vision and staring down at me with a scowl like a storm, but her eyes are a little too wide to be pure anger anymore.

“Did you just…hit your fool head or something?” she asks. “What’s so damn funny?”

“Nothing,” I say. “Except you just did exactly what I thought you’d do. A simple slap across the cheek seems too easy for Libby Potter.”

I push up, sitting, not even bothering to dust myself off.

With her bending over me, suddenly we’re nose to nose. Eye to eye. Breath to breath.

Lips far too close.

She freezes, her eyes widening more.

I flick my gaze down to her mouth. Her lips are parted like she’d started to bite off an insult and then just stopped.

For a second, I’ve got her.

And while I’ve got her, I lean in close, murmuring in that tiny thin skim of air separating our mouths.

“Look at you, gawking at me all scared like you hurt me. Just like I knew you would.” I grin real slow. “Regret pushing me yet?”

She stares dead at me.

My inner wickedness has hold. I’m not gonna lie.

“Maybe you want to play nurse instead,” I whisper.

Five seconds ago, she’d been about to tear my damn head off.

Now?

She’s motionless, caught off guard, staring at me with her lips wet and not a single barb rolling off that glistening pink tongue I can see just past the curve of her mouth.

I could do something wild.

Something hot and hungry and dirty.

I could be exactly the kind of man she thinks I am.

It’d be too easy to thread my fingers into her hair and hold on just enough for her to feel it, for her to quiver with the need to give up control.

A few inches forward and I could kiss her until she’s melting, her body so soft and hot I could reach down inside her to grab at her heart, making her think she could have me if she just gives in.

But I’m trying to be better.

If I treated her that way, I’d be worse than pond scum.

I’d be disrespecting the first woman I’ve met in years who actually has the nerve to call me the hell out.

So I don’t play games, but I can’t let go of the upper hand, either.

Smirking, I just pull away from her and stand, brushing myself off and turning to walk away like I’m not a dusty mess.

Hey—I know it’s time to leave the field when the battle’s over.

I’ll be back after that flare of tension between us cools down and we’re both ready to talk again.

But I’m not ready for her voice to follow me, chasing me with something hard to describe.

I think it’s the sound of it.

It’s not quite anger. Not quite hate. Not even scathing mockery.

It’s almost like…disappointment?

Hurt.

“I guess I know who got the good genes in your family,” she says quietly. “Blake inherited any sense of honor and didn’t leave a bit for you. His biggest crime is that goofy-ass love line conspiracy show.”

Damn.

I’d just started to take a step over the plates of dust-caked, corrugated metal forming a bridge over the ditch, linking the lane with the homestead.

When she mentions my brother, her words hit so hard it’s like slamming a wrecking ball into my bones.

My foot slips on the plating, and I don’t know what feels worse.

The angry bomb going off inside my chest.

Or the way the world upends itself again in a swirl of color.

It’s not my lucky day.

I fall on my ass for the second time in about ten minutes.

Only this time I don’t land in dry dirt.

I thunk down in the muddy water in the bottom of the ditch. Dirt squelches under me loudly as I sink into it, and cold water soaks me from waist to toe.

Part of me doesn’t even want to get up.

I’d say I don’t know why that last parting shot hurts, but I do.

I damn well do.

Doesn’t mean I haven’t earned it, either.

Fuck, when I first came back to Heart’s Edge, my own brother wouldn’t believe I wasn’t up to no good.

It took me saving his life with a fire truck to make Blake believe I wasn’t just here to screw him over.

I don’t blame him. Not after the fouled up blood we had growing up together, always undercutting each other for Mama’s amusement.