Page 5 of Tamed By A Knight

“Must be you,” he says, prying himself away from me reluctantly. “You bring it out in me.”

He sighs again, and this time my heart sinks into my guts because his mouth is moving before I have the chance to pull him back to me. “Look, I understand what you’re trying to do, Tara, but I can’t go up there with you.”

“Why not?” My lower jaw quivers, making me stutter the words.

“It doesn’t feel right.” He turns away, locking eyes with whatever he can see through the window on the upper half of the door. “You’ve been out drinking. You’re not in the right state of mind. I don’t want to take advantage of that.”

Yes, I’m a little tipsy, but I’ve wanted this for months. I think about him drunk, I think about him sober. For shit’s sake, Hush is all I ever think about. But there’s no way to say that now without him thinking I just went overboard.

“I understand.” Much better than I’m letting on, too. If he thinks I’m going to roll over and give up because of one small setback, Hush has another thing coming.

With a subtle nod, Hush pulls the door open for me. “I’m around, whenever you need me. Just a call away.”

Don’t you worry, big boy, I know.

I step inside and make my way to the elevator. When I step inside, facing the direction I came, Hush is still standing at the door, watching me. Enjoying the view, perhaps, but more likely than not making sure I get upstairs safely.

And as I enter my empty apartment, deathly silent and too cold for my liking, I know it won’t be this way for long. Hush overplayed his hand, whether he thinks so or not.

All I have to do is pounce on the opportunity offered to me.

3

HUSH

Three Days Later

“Things are good then?” Tex asks, a thick-skinned brawler in our merry band of misfits, holds constant eye contact with Jerry Haines.

“No noise in a long time.” Jerry smiles, slipping a hand under the counter and returning it with a package wrapped in brown paper. As one of the few twenty-four-hour establishments in Boulder, he gets special attention on nighttime patrols, always eager to give us something for keeping an eye on him.

“You know we can’t accept that, Jer.” Tex scoffs, holding a flat palm to stop Jerry from delivering whatever’s inside. “Boulder’s as much our town as yours, and it’s in our best interest to keep the streets clean.”

Buzzing in my pocket distracts me. It’s my phone, ringing again at an inopportune time, but seeing Tara’s name splashed across the screen, I can’t stop myself from answering it.

I pat Tex on the shoulder and point to the door, saying I’ll wait outside while he finishes up with Jerry. He nods to give me the go-ahead. I miss the first call, making my way over to our motorcycles, but answer the second before it gets to the second ring.

“Busy?” I don’t even have a chance to greet her, and her voice runs down my ears like honey dripping on a hot biscuit.

I’ve noticed the steady uptick over the last few weeks, going from a few a month to three times a week. I do my best to stay free whenever I can, on the off-chance she needs my help, but sometimes duty calls and business and pleasure have to mix.

It’s one of those nights, though Tara’s timing could have something to do with it. She’s calling five hours earlier than usual. She’d usually be starting her night out now, not finishing it. And just like that, a pang of heartache emanates from my chest and radiates through my body.

As badly as I want to go through with this, how can I? We’re opposites. Maybe it’s my age talking, not that I’m some curmudgeon old man, but she’s younger, has stars in her eyes, and a full life ahead of her. Could be the barrier pulling us apart. My constant reminder that time’s ticking stops for no one, and while Tara’s everything I want in a woman, sometimes you can’t always get what you want.

“Sorta.” Short answers when handling Knight Rider work are the go-to. Can’t have Tex walk out on me gushing like a fool. It’s bad enough that Knight and Talon saw it.

“Well, when you finish, I could use your services.” Tara doesn’t sound upset or threatened. She’s calm, and that scares me more than a direct ask for help.

“Everything okay?”

“Peachy.” What does it say about me that the first thing my mind jumps to is her ass in a pair of yoga pants? “I’m at the Old Fifty-Five. Can you come by when you’re done?”

“I’ll be there,” I say, just in time to see Tex stepping out of the twenty-four-hour convenience store.

“Thanks, Hush. See you soon.” She kills the call.

“Everything good?” Tex straddles his motorcycle, and I do the same.

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