Page 56 of Wild For You

“Erin, stop.”

Her hands hover in mid-air, lingering over what looks like a sad version of a pair of dumbbells. They look so light that I could lift them with my index finger. It’s beyond me why my father thought the weightlifting equipment set up in my basement wouldn’t do the trick.

“Why would I? You’ve made up your mind, and so have I,” Erin says, lifting her gaze back to me. I don’t like the disappointment I see in her eyes as she resumes packing.

“Please, stop.”

“Why?” She eyes me warily.

“Because—” Balancing on my good leg, I lift a hand and rake my fingers through my hair, hesitating.

What the fuck am I going to say?

I don’t want to do as she says, but for some reason, I also don’t want to disappoint her.

“I don’t know what I want.” My own words shock me. Hearing them makes me realize just how powerless I’ve been feeling the past few months. For the first time, I don’t know what to do.

“You don’t know what you want?” she asks.

For a second or two, we stare at each other in silence.

“Do you want to walk again? And I mean without those crutches,” Erin says, resuming the conversation. “Without any help at all.” Her eyes are so piercing blue it feels as though she’s looking right through me, into the deepest layers of me. “I know you do. I can feel it in the waves of anger that are coming from you. I can feel it in your frustration and your unwillingness to cooperate because you’re afraid of failure.”

“Don’t do that,” I bark.

“Don’t do what?” She stands and places her hands on her hips, her entire stance challenging me now. “Tell you the truth? I’m sorry, Mr. Boyd, but just because everyone’s too intimidated to speak up doesn’t mean I am. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not tied by some family bonds to be mindful of your feelings. I don’t have to walk on eggshells just because you might decide to kick me out. And I sure as hell don’t have to prove myself to you. I’ve had enough of your antics and have decided that my dedication and hard work are wasted here. I’m not going to stay with someone who doesn’t want me here.”

“You have nothing to lose—”

“That’s right,” she cuts me off.

“—except your professional reputation.”

Her jaw sets and anger shimmers in her eyes.

I try to take a step forward when a surge of pain shoots through me. My leg feels like it’s on fire, the titanium screws buried in my bone a painful reminder of that one mistake four months ago.

“Fine, leave. We can pretend you were never here,” I say slowly. “I’m a rich man. I can make it happen. No one will know that you failed just like the others.”

“But that’s the thing, Mr. Boyd. I didn’t fail. You did.” She inches toward me and pokes a finger into my chest. “And may I remind you, you’ve been telling me to go. You’ve decided to give up. I’m just sick of trying to change your mind.” She’s almost a head shorter than me, and a whole lot lighter. But her determination makes up for her lack of height.

Well, almost.

She reminds me a bit of those little chihuahuas. They have the personality of a bulldog and you know they can bite off your finger if you come too close, but you just can’t help yourself because they’re too damn cute.

My lips twitch.

Erin’s eyes narrow on me. “What’s so funny?”

“You are.” I laugh at her fuming expression.

Clearly, the woman doesn’t just have a short fuse; she also has no idea how to control it. Too bad I own the lighting match to it and know damn well how to use it.

I clear my throat and wink, barely able to peel my eyes off her full lips. “You’re cute when you’re angry. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Don’t ever call me cute,” Erin says indignantly.

“Why not?” I shrug, mirroring her earlier gesture. “I’m a man who always speaks the truth, and you remind me of a cute little chihuahua. It’s probably the reason why you’re so good at your job. People like you. They open up to you. You should take it as a compliment. Not everyone has such a talent.”

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