Page 124 of Fighting Mr. Knight

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

He pushes against me so that I’m forced to walk backwards then cages me against the wall.

“On your knees, darlin’.”

***

I wake up, gasping for air, a heavy arm lying across my stomach.

Jack’s black lashes flutter open. “Good morning, beautiful,” he says in a deep groggy voice. Concern fills his eyes as they adjust to the sunlight. “Are you okay?”

“I just had a nightmare,” I breathe. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He lifts his head. “What was it about? What’s going on in your head?”

“I had a dream that I was getting married to Max. Everything was going wrong. Stupid things, my hair, the shoes. I couldn’t walk in the dress.”

Jack’s face darkens.

“No, wait,” I cry, lifting my head. “It was a nightmare not a dream. I was suffocating and screaming in my head. Then I woke up and saw you beside me and the feeling of relief was enormous.” I laugh, shakily. “I’m so glad Max called off the wedding.”

He pulls me against his chest.

Exactly where I need to be.

“Spend the day with me.”

“I can’t.” I groan. “I have to help my dad pack up his house. They’re being rehoused. By you, remember?”

“I’ll help.”

“Don’t be silly.” I laugh. “You don’t need to do that. He’s a hoarder. It’s going to take me all day ploughing through stuff he doesn’t use trying to convince him to throw it out rather than taking it with him. It’s fine,” I say firmly. I visualise the state of my dad’s house and feel embarrassed.

Then immediately guilty.

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. I’ll help. Why would I give up an opportunity to spend time with my girlfriend?”

Seriously? What a contrast to Max.

My heart is going to explode.

I stare back at him, wondering how the hell I’m so lucky to hit the jackpot.

29

Bonnie

“You do know that CDs are pretty much redundant now, right?”I look crossly at Dad. I’ve been boxing his things away for five hours and am getting nowhere. Now we have cleared most of the clutter into boxes, it’s clear that the flat hasn’t had a good clean in years. “These DVDs need to go too. There must behundredshere. Who do you think will actually buy these?”

“Nonsense, love.” He rubs his hands together. “These beauties still sell strong down the market. Easy.”

I roll my eyes. “Dad, the only way you’ll sell these is if you get a time machine and go back to the nineties.”

“Don’t you worry.” He gives me a knowing smile. “Your old dad knows a thing or two about business, love.”

Except he doesn’t.

I cringe and feel instantly guilty.

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