Page 50 of No Knight (My Kind of Hero #3)

“Done for now,” I answer in an easy tone. I drop my napkin to the table and lean back in my chair.

“I wasn’t talking about dinner.”

“I know you weren’t. But you can’t blame a man for looking. Not when you’re irresistible.”

“I’m practically the size of a house,” she scoffs.

“Must be a very compact house. A bijou abode.”

Her mouth curls reluctantly, though she ducks her head to hide it.

“Actually, come to think of it, can I move in?”

“You.” That’s all she says. You. Though her cheeks turn a lovely pink hue. She also gives a long-suffering shake of her head.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“As you can see,” she says, putting her hands to her rounded stomach, “there’s no room at the inn.”

“Hmm. I do see. And you know what occurs to me?”

“I dread to think.”

“While it was no immaculate conception, it was pretty fuckin’ spectacular.”

“What has gotten into you tonight?”

You, I want to repeat. You’ve gotten into my head. And my heart. But she’s not ready to hear those admissions. Maybe it’s just practice she needs.

More time on the countertop?

I get that she’s alone in the world, that’s she’s had a shit upbringing, and there’s probably more to it than a lack of pets and a bad mother. I wish she’d confide in me.

And at the same time, I know the reveal has to be on her terms.

I can’t imagine being alone. I can’t even imagine being an only child, though plenty of times I wished for it.

Especially in a house with as many kids as my parents had, where the arses outnumbered the bathrooms. But adolescence aside, I’d hate to be without my siblings.

My parents. My friends. How does she cope?

Who does she turn to when she needs a pep talk or a kick up the arse? Or a hedge fund ruining.

No wonder being dumped by that prick did a number on her. And it did, because let’s face it, no one goes to the lengths she did to be at his wedding. It wasn’t just about the dicks she worked with. Or maybe I should say about one of them. It was about saving face.

It was about saying: I’m here. I stand. You didn’t beat me.

How can anyone not admire her for that?

But I worry about it too. Her once-bitten-twice-shy attitude and her hyperindependence.

Just the fact of these dinners, our time rationed, is absurd.

Especially when I see how relaxed she becomes in my company.

And how she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention.

I know I’d be good for her if she’d only let me try.

I’ve got time, I tell myself. There are more than ten weeks left of her pregnancy, for a start. Or maybe our time will come after the babe.

I just want that time now.

“So,” she says, her tone and her discomfited wiggle signaling a change in the conversation. “What’s new at the office?”

Work is such a big part of Ryan’s life. Not being in the office must feel a bit like losing a limb. Not for long, though.

“You know how it is. Another day at the coalface, preserving the time value of money.” The theory that a dollar today is worth more than a dollar next week due to its earning potential in the period between.

In other words, investments. It’s what Maven is known for.

We invest in real estate mostly, and at the moment, we’re big on urban redevelopment.

This is partially down to Fin championing Mila’s social causes.

And that’s fine for all concerned because we’re still making a shit ton of money.

Though Oliver maintains he’s in debt up to his (still very wealthy) eyeballs, but that’s down to his love for Evie.

And how she persuaded him a stately home and safari park would make a good fixer-upper project.

Lions and tigers and labradoodles, oh, hell!

The things they’ve done for their wives. The ways they’ve changed and bended for love—I find that shit amazing.

“You make it sound like a calling,” Ryan says, a light taunt to her tone. “Like you’re doing it for the greater good.”

“Well, the greater good counts.”

“The greater good of your pockets.”

I love it when she’s in a feisty mood, when she’s all hot and ... clever. I love her hair down, her scattered hair ties, and when she has her glasses on ... ah-mazing! She can be my demanding boss anytime.

“Are you saying you work in finance for the love of it, not for the money?” I parry.

“I don’t know whether you’ve noticed, but I’m not working anywhere right now.” She half stands and reaches across the small table toward my whiskey glass. “Can I just ... sniff it?”

“Sure.” I beat her to it, passing it over, relishing the brush of our fingertips like this is some Regency romance. One that’s not fade to black, please. “Any particular reason?”

She gives a short inhale. “Maybe a weird craving.”

“Did you have any of those? They happen earlier in the pregnancy, right?”

She nods. “Just for a few days. Pickles and ice cream. Together.” With one last sniff, she passes my glass back, sliding it back across the table.

“What do you think?”

“Smells like malt and wood.”

“Oak. From the barrels.”

“And something sweet.”

“But you don’t like the taste?”

“Ask me again. After.” Another tentative touch to her stomach as our gazes hold, and in the silence, I feel every beat of my heart. “So. Work.” Her gaze darts away. “Let me live vicariously.”

“Ah, you’ll be back at it soon enough.”

“I don’t know. Do you know many mothers in hedge funds?”

I open my hands: No idea . My only interest is the mother-to-be sitting in front of me.

The one I’d like to eventually call my wife-to-be.

“I loved my job, and I was fucking good at it. What are you smiling about?”

I sit forward, putting my elbow to the table as I rub my hand across my jaw. “Do you know when you curse or say something ... bad, for want of a better word, you put your hands to your stomach? Like you’re covering Matt Junior’s ears.”

She frowns. “I don’t—do I?”

“It’s adorable.”

“You think? Maybe you’re just strange.”

“The word you’re looking for is enchanted .”

“Enchanted,” she repeats, sliding me a doubtful look.

“Like magic.”

She lowers her eyes, her lashes veiling her thoughts. But I hope she’s remembering a conversation about magic and spontaneity. And about disappearing body parts.

“You were saying?” I prompt. “About work?”

“Just that I’m looking forward to being a mother, but I just ...” With a sigh, she lifts her shoulders and lets them fall. “I’m worried, I guess.”

“I think that’s entirely natural. I mean, I get moments of My God, what happens if I drop him on his head ?”

“At least you’ve held a baby,” she mutters.

“I have, sure. But this is different, Ryan. Like I’ve said before, we’re in this together.”

“I know you say that. I know you think you mean it, but I’m the one having this baby,” she says, pressing her hands to her stomach again.

“I’m the one whose body will bear the brunt.

Whose brain will frazzle. Whose sleep and time will be taxed.

I’ll be the one responsible for the bulk of the caretaking. The one whose career will suffer.”

Has suffered, I think with a frown.

“I can’t help you carry this baby or deliver it, and honestly, thank Christ for that. If it was left up to men, the world would come to an end. But the rest is on me as much as it is you.”

“The practicalities don’t work that way. I’m gonna need to go back to work sometime, and—”

“I’ll help.”

“Help what?”

“With the baby. When he’s here. And when you’re ready to go back to work.”

“Sure.” She looks a little frustrated.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I bet you usually work as many hours as I do. I know you’re as passionate about your job as I am. Was. Unless your contribution is a nanny?”

“If that’s what you want. I mean, yeah.” I give a shrug.

“It’s not a bad idea as backup for when we’re both up to our necks.

But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m gonna be a hands-on dad, Ryan.

That’s the plan. I mean, realistically, neither of us knows what we’re in for.

But this is our baby, not just yours. Equal responsibilities. That’s what I hope for.”

“You’d really do that?”

Though I’m not sure she’s convinced, her expression hard to decipher right now.

“Why wouldn’t I? Especially when you’ll be looking after my money.”

“Your—what now?”

“I’ve decided to invest some money with you.”

“But I’m not working.” She shakes her head as though she can’t have heard right.

“But you miss it, yeah?”

“Of course. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

Well, that’s something. I have her intrigued. And that she hasn’t shot me down is a good sign.