Page 6

I messed up. I completely forgot about our meeting this morning. When Zeke asked me to check out a gym Reed told him about, the last thing I expected was to see her here. Not only that, but the way her strength was on display, I was mesmerized.

Each punch and pivot was so fluid that it looked like she was dancing.

Her tan, toned stomach flexed with every movement, twin braids swinging with each powerful punch.

The beads of sweat rolling down her back accentuated the divots of the muscles there.

Then, the guy holding the mitts had to call her Butterfly, and I felt a wave of jealousy I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Why did that bother me so much? It’s her for crying out loud.

Abby is tiny, but all muscle–muscle she’s kept hidden under baggy sweatshirts, scrubs, and lounge pants. This new development adds an additional layer to the Terrifying Pixie nickname. She could probably kick my ass.

“Be right back,” I call over my shoulder at Zeke, who’s watching our interaction with rapt attention.

I jog out the door, my legs quickly eating up the distance between the two of us.

“Abby!” Her head turns, looking at me over her shoulder.

Light brown eyes stare back at me with nothing but pure annoyance.

She doesn't stop, just keeps walking like she didn’t just rip me a new one in the middle of the gym.

“What do you want?” she asks, her tone clipped as she continues to her car.

I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I completely forgot. Can we try again tomorrow? Please. ”

She turns fully toward me, arms crossing as she goes.

The move brings my attention to the curve of her shoulders, my eyes slide down the outline of her tricep that runs so elegantly along the backs of her arms, smooth skin over lean muscle, strength wrapped in silk. Or sandpaper, depends on the day.

A strand of blonde hair slips free from behind her ear, she doesn’t even bother trying to tuck it back in.

Her hard gaze is still locked on mine, she’s not concerned with a stray hair.

No, she’s in self-preservation mode, the way her fingers dig into her arms like she’s holding herself back gives her away.

“I’m not going to waste my time,” she finally says. “I have a life outside of planning this. You already have the schedule we made last week. Show up or don’t, I don’t care.”

I should let it go. Now would be a great time to turn around and walk right back inside.

But I don’t. There’s something about the finality in her tone, the defiance in her posture.

.. It sets off the asshole in me. So, instead, I step closer, lowering my voice.

“You really think you can handle this all by yourself?”

Her eyes flicker, recognizing the challenge I just laid down. “I know I can. Unlike you, I do what I say I will.”

My laugh is so dry that it catches me off guard. “That’s right.” I bring my hand to my necklace, running it back and forth in the crook of my finger before pointing at her. “Because you’re always in control of everything.”

Her nostrils flare, the hand on the strap of her gym bag tightening.

My attention settles on the rings she placed back on her fingers, a signature Abby Knight feature.

“At least I can handle my responsibilities.” The venom in her voice has my eyes snapping back up to hers.

She holds my gaze for a beat before turnin g toward her car.

I wait until her hand is on the handle before saying.

“Whatever you say, Butterfly. ”

Her body tenses, and she quickly turns to glare over her shoulder. Her braids fly from where they were in front of her shoulders to hang down her back. Yeah, butterfly is fitting. If said butterfly also breathed fire. “Don’t call me that.”

If it were anyone else, this is where I’d concede and walk away, but not with her. I grab her chin between my thumb and pointer finger, bringing my face mere inches from hers. She winces as I squeeze just a bit too hard. “Or what?”

The malicious smile that slides across her face sends a jolt of excitement through me. “Or I guarantee you’ll regret it.”

For whatever jacked-up reason, that makes me grin. “Careful, Terrifying Little Pixie. You’re starting to sound like a good time.”

Her exhale is heavy as she shakes her head, swatting my hand away from her face. “I don’t have time for this. Save your games for someone who does.” She flings her door open, climbs inside with the grace of a gazelle, and pulls away without another glance.

Well, that got us nowhere. I give my head a shake, trying to clear how good it felt to touch her as I walk back inside. I stop short when I notice Zeke standing by the door. “What?” I snap.

“Abby and Tatum sitting in a tree—” I smack him in the chest with the back of my hand as I school my face and head toward the free weights section. “What was that about?”

“Greyson asked us to plan a surprise bachelor/bachelorette party for Hannah, and we were supposed to meet up this morning, but I completely forgot about it.” I sigh, my hand runnin g down my face, stopping on my beard that could use a trim. “She, however, did not.”

His head tilts back as he lets out a rumbling laugh.

“I’ve never met anyone who hates you as much as she does.

” He leans against the wall with a smirk that makes me want to hurl one of these dumbbells at his head.

“There’s a fine line between love and hate, though, dude.

” He wiggles his eyebrows, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth to keep from laughing.

“Not interested,” I mutter, grabbing the thirty-pound dumbbells and starting my first set of curls.

My biceps burn as I continue the movement, a welcome distraction from the conversation.

He catches my eyes in the mirror, his lips pulling up into a half smile as he shakes his head and picks up his weights.

The truth is, once you’ve been burned, it becomes so unappealing to trust again.

I don’t hand it out like candy, especially not to women.

Nikki took everything I gave her and turned it into a weapon.

So, no, I’m not interested. Not in the fiery blonde who just handed me my ass on a platter, not in anyone.

And I’m certainly not interested in the whole enemies-to-lovers, slow-burn, tension-filled nightmare, my book club-loving best friend is so eager to pin on me.

“Why are we here, Zeke?” I ask as he walks me into the Hawks arena. Greyson’s car was in the parking lot, so my immediate thought was that he was pulling the big brother card on my planni ng failure, again. I’m sadly mistaken as he pushes Abby’s office door open.

“Ms. Knight, I brought you a present!” he sings as Abby looks up from her computer, eyes blank as they bounce between us.

“Wow,” She deadpans. “I thought presents were supposed to bring joy to the receiver.” Her voice remains unbothered as she blinks slowly.

Zeke, on the other hand, makes a choked sound before his head falls forward and laughter bellows from the depths of his soul.

The loud, uncontrollable rumble kicks my annoyance up a notch or ten.

“He told me about his failure to make it to planning meetings.” His head jerks in my direction. “Figured I’d deliver him myself,” he chides.

“What the hell, dude?” What happened to bro code? I mean, I deserve it, I’ve dropped the ball twice now. But how does he know when planning meetings are, and why didn’t he say anything if he knew?

“While I appreciate the sentiment, Zeke,” she says, purposely avoiding eye contact with me.

“I’m not in any position to have a planning meeting with someone who has made it quite clear he doesn’t care.

His brother will be here any minute to work through shoulder mobility,” she states in her professional tone.

Her level of indifference grates against me in the worst way.

“I’m sorry,” I grunt. Her head snaps in my direction, the cap of her pen resting perfectly between her slightly parted lips. How am I just now noticing how lush they are? And why does she look so good in scrubs today? Get it together, man.

“Like I said the other day, I do not need you.” She chews on the cap, her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth. I swallo w roughly as she continues. “Whether you show up or not, isn’t my damn to give.”

Zeke picks that moment to slap me on the back before walking out of the room. The dude loves to stir the pot and then leave me to clean up the mess. Like now, as I’m on the receiving end of Abby’s calm demeanor, which might be worse than when she’s angry.

I pull out a chair on the opposite side of her desk, interlacing my fingers before I lean my forearms against it.

Her eyes track the movement, a spark of heat passes through them before they harden as they meet my own.

“Look, I’ve been a horrible planning partner,” I start.

“I’ve been selfish with my time and completely forgot about our meetings.

” She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest as she glares at me.

“Do you know why I work better alone?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t have to depend on anyone else to get things done.

Every meeting we scheduled has action items split between the two of us.

If I could have handled this by myself from the start, most of it would be done already.

” She sits forward, mirroring my posture.

“I broke this up because Greyson asked me to. I didn’t do it to help inflate your warped sense of importance.

If you don’t want to help, bow out.” She gives me a slow, disapproving once-over before settling back on my face.

Her lip pulls up in an adorable snarl. “I’m not going to hold my breath.

” She rips a piece of paper out of the notebook she had at her place the other day and hands it to me.