Irresistible Knight (24 page)

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“What? Say it.”

“I said never mind.”

“You're blushing.”

“I'd be blushing, too, if I'm inches away from getting poked with your Mister Johnson.”

Teta, Julie's friend and now a special member of the Knight family, walked in on them. Her curly deep purple hair, bright pink top, blue pants and orange clog clashed together. The only thing missing was a red nose and she could be a circus clown.

“Mister Johnson?” Taylor and Bors asked simultaneously.

Teta replied by raising her brows and lowering her gaze to Bors's front.

Bors looked down and let out a curse that Taylor never heard in her life.

“Uh-huh. Your dick that is presently pointing toward Taylor is Mister Johnson.”

“Did you say what I thought you said, Teta?”

“You heard me, boy. I know more than one name for that ... uh-oh. What happened? Got shrinkage now, eh?”

Taylor wanted to laugh at Bors's reaction. She couldn't believe he was capable of blushing. He looked like a little boy the way he shuffled his feet with his hands in his pockets. And when he met her gaze, his color turned deeper red.

Bors didn't say anything. The way his jaw muscles were clenching, he was trying to keep his opinion to himself.

From what she observed, the Knight boys were actually tame around Teta. Maybe because they knew she meant business. And her
business
involved her gun.

“Go on, you two. Foods ready. Hey, you might want to help your brothers, boy.”

“With what?”

“Putting a crib together.” Teta looked at Taylor and said, “You've seen all the Knight boys together. All are eye-candy
with
degrees under their belts, but you should see them right now. One wonders if they used their good looks to earn their diplomas. Tata, you two.” Teta tucked her handbag under her arm and then called the dog. “Come, Cinnamon. You have an appointment at Scrub A Pup.”

“Why are you leaving? Aren't you going to eat with us?” Bors asked, then sneezed as Cinnamon walked passed him.

“Going to Costco. Gotta make a duplicate of this house key and buy Julie hard rock plums. Don't know why. They look like old man's testicles and probably tasted sour, too. I'm off.”

Taylor and Bors watched Teta drive away with Cinnamon's head sticking out the window.

“What's up with you women comparing fruits to human body parts? Breasts like bananas and plums like old man's testicles? God.” He squeezed his watery eyes shut, then sniffed.

“Bors, you're allergic to Cinnamon. To animals?”

“Yup.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Taylor's voice raised a pitch. “That night when we took Fawn in, you were sneezing like crazy. I would have put Fawn in the back of the truck if you said something.” She reached to cup his face, then rubbed her thumb on his cheeks.

“It was nothing. Besides, I enjoyed watching Fawn.”

Taylor smiled. She remembered how insistent he was about tying the fawn on the flatbed of the truck. “No, you didn't.” She tiptoed and pressed her open lips to his. “But you let Fawn stay inside because of me.”

“I'll stay in the dog kennel for you. You should know that,” he said in between kisses.

“Why?”

“Because...” His lips recaptured hers, more demanding this time.

Taylor drew his face to hers, kissing him deeper, savoring every moment. “Because what?”

Laughter reached her ears and remembered where they were.

Bors sighed in her mouth. “I'm not sure. I hate to say this, but we have to stop before I snatch you back into my bedroom.”

“Sounds wonderful. May I see it?”

“Don't tempt me, wench.” Gathering her into her arms, he held her snugly.

Taylor laughed. “Alright. Let's go see your brothers. They probably need your hand more than I do right now.”

Sitting on a green camping chair sandwiched between Kirsten and Julie's, Taylor admired the men. Teta was right on. The Knights were all pleasing to look at but Taylor doubted they lacked depth or intellect. Just look at the way they were staring at the pieces of wood laying on the picnic table. One would think they were all scientists trying to figure out how to put together a rocket ship. Bors's hands were on his hips. Percival hadn't stopped rubbing his chin the way she'd seen chess players do during a tournament. Tristan kept nodding while inspecting a long piece of wood and Gawain tossed the screws back and forth between his hands.

Kirsten said when she turned three, her dad disassembled the crib so he could store it in their cramped attic. All of the Knight kids used it and now it would be the new baby's turn to enjoy the heirloom.

“Julie, why don't you just buy a new one? Check Amazon,” Gawain said.

“No. I want this one. You all used it. Now it's my baby's turn to sleep in it.”

“See, that's the point. We all peed, pooped and puked in this crib. I remember sleeping in this and smelling Bors's drool.”

Bors picked up the long piece of wood and poked Gawain in the ribs. “You're such an asshole. You're the one who slept in this thing because you weren't potty trained until you went to kindergarten.”

“Fuck you, ugly face. That was Tristan.”

“No. Tristan's the chewer. He chewed the bars and licked the varnish and suffered from bad case of diarrhea here, Mom said.” Percival pointed at the yellow stain on the crib's mattress propped up against the picnic table.

“Very funny, Percival. You're the mongoose that ate the corner of that mattress until you couldn't stop throwing up.”

Taylor giggled. “Julie, are you sure you want your baby to sleep in that crib?”

“I'm actually having second thoughts.”

“Hey, Kirsten. What kind of mark did you leave on that crib?” Taylor asked.

“Me? By the time I used that thing the smell was so noxious, I would pass out whenever Mom put me in there.”

Julie and Taylor roared their laughter.

“Stop. I might deliver this baby here.”

“How long do you think they're going to stand there?”

“Hopefully before the baby comes out,” replied Julie while rubbing her stomach. Her swollen feet were propped up on the stool cushioned with a small throw pillow.

Kirsten looked up from her laptop. “Your baby will have a mustache by the time those Einsteins figure out how to put a simple crib together.”

Julie looked at Kirsten. “I thought you believed we're having a girl?”

“Oh, right. Well, your baby will have boobs before she can use the crib.”

“And menstrual period,” added Taylor, placing her hotdog sandwich on a plate on her lap.

“Imagine yourself changing her diaper.”

“Eewww!” Julie covered her face with the manuscript she was editing. “Tristan can change her diaper.”

Kirsten and Taylor laughed so loud they attracted the men's attention.

“What's so funny?” Bors asked, his eyes focused on Taylor.

“Um...” She looked at Kirsten and then to Julie.

“You guys. You've been standing there for hours and the crib is still not a crib,” answered Julie.

“Honey, want to take a crack at it,” Tristan said, smiling at his wife.

“No. Have to keep my feet elevated and I have editing to do.”

“What about you, snot nose?”

“Can't you see I'm busy surfing the net?”

“Taylor, since you laughed the loudest, do you think you can help put this together?” Bors leaned against the table and crossed his arms against his chest. The position emphasized the muscles on his thighs and arms. Arms that held her tight hours ago while she convulsed from her orgasm.

The thought brought heat to her face. When Bors winked, an insane idea that he read her mind only made her feel hotter.

Clearing her throat, she answered, “Um, no.”

Bors shifted his position and crossed his ankles together, taking Taylor's gaze from his face to his thighs and to the bulge in his pants.

She swallowed at the memory of what that bulge looked like when exposed.

“Why can't you? You're not doing anything.”

“Um, because I have a hotdog on my lap.”

The men looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

Great thinking, Taylor. Sike!

“Wow. Can't believe they're my brothers. They have dirty minds, don't they?”

“And mouths. They curse worse than the drunken trollops in my books.”

Taylor met Bors's gaze. “But would you have your husband any other way?” she said, almost in a whispered voice. But Julie heard her.

“No.”

She broke eye contact with Bors to look at Julie. Taylor didn't miss the sparkle in Julie's eyes as she looked at Tristan. You could feel the love between the two of them. When she returned her gaze to Bors who was laughing with his brothers, she heard herself say, “Me, too.”

A half hour later, Katherine joined them, waving a piece of paper in the air. “Darlings, I found the instructions on how to put the old crib together.”

Behind her, Arthur followed, carrying six different size pieces of wood, smiling slyly. “Boys, my apologies. I was wrong when I said you have everything you need. I found these important parts of the crib. Apparently they got separated from the rest.”

“Dang! I knew we weren't this stupid not to figure out how to put together a crib.” Percival sighed.

“You're just too stupid to know something was missing,” Kirsten laughed.

“Laugh, brat. If your website crashes, don't come crying to me.”

“Oh, Percival. You're such an angel ... cake. Too easy to crumble.”

“Crumble my ass.”

Taylor brought her hand up to stifle her giggles. Boy, she surely didn't want the Knights’ attention directed to her. They all had such wicked sense of humors and wicked in name-calling.

It didn't take long before the crib was put together.

Made out of reddish brown mahogany wood, the polish still shone from the afternoon sun. Taylor had never seen a crib with a canopy before. It was old-fashioned, with intricate designs on the posts, the kind that kings and princesses would use, and it was beautiful. Unlike any other cribs, this one could be converted as a corner crib and daybed. Not an easy crib to put together.

While Kirsten joined her parents under the shade of the cedar tree reminiscing, Julie inspected the crib with Tristan. The two were hand and hand whispering, kissing.

She tried to imagine Bors as a baby sleeping in the fancy girlish crib and smiled. Someday his baby would sleep there, too. A beautiful boy or girl with deep blue eyes. And like Julie and Tristan, he and his future wife would probably use the crib, too.

The thought pricked her heart.

She looked at Bors and found him staring at her. Her heart skipped a beat. He must have been watching her the whole time.

It had only been a week since the first day they'd met. And yet, many things had happened between them that weren't part of her plan for coming here. All she wanted was to talk to Judge Knight. Now, she found herself dreaming of having a baby ... with Bors.

She suppose her irrational emotions were the result of being cooped up in Jean's house for so many years because it was impossible, yes, impossible for someone to fall in love—Oh, my God. She started hyperventilating.

Bors must have noticed her distress. He made it where she sat in a hurry. With his hands on the chair's arm, he leveled his gaze with her. “You okay, babe?”

Taylor swallowed. “Yes. I'm just kind of feeling hot right now.”

“Wanna go inside?”

“No. I'm good here.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Bors, are you game?” yelled Gawain.

Bors looked at his brother. “Sure. Just a sec.” He looked back at her, then combed the wayward hair off her face with his fingers then smiled. “You look beautiful sitting here. But, would you like to go for a walk before we talk to Dad about your plan?”

“We can walk to the cove later. We're here to visit. Just play with your brothers.”

“You love the cove, don't you?”

“Very much.”

Bors grinned. “What do you like about it?”

Before she could give her reply, someone barged in on them. A man waving a gun.

“Nobody fucking move.”

* * * *

No one expected it. A man, pinched face, about Taylor's height, with gray wild eyes and crew cut hair, pointed his gun at Bors. The man held his gun sideways—Hollywood style. He wore army pants and a baggy unbuttoned black shirt, making his silver dog tag visible and poorly designed tattoos. Bors wanted to choke him with his necklace, which most likely wasn't military issued, but the kind that he could get at vending machines.

Fucking punk!
He faced the man with Taylor at his back. If the son of a bitch pulled the trigger, he would get hit and not her.

Bors made a quick assessment. All members of his family were around. Tristan had Julie behind him, his dad had his mom, and Kirsten stood by the tree, Gawain and Percival to his left. And all weren't moving. As if someone pressed the mute button, his family had gone silent.

Behind him, Bors heard movements.
Dad.

“Son, lower your gun. Whatever it is you need, we can talk about it without—”

“Shut up, old man.”

“Hey, dickhead. Watch your tongue or I'll stick this screwdriver in between your eyes.” Gawain's voice was harsh and raw with anger enough to make the man blink.

Rattled, the man darted his gaze between Bors and his brothers. “Move and I'll shoot, Agent Knight.”

“Gawain, bro. Stay where you are.” He'd been in a sticky situation like this, but not when his family was around. This was tough. “Let my family leave. We can talk.”

“No! He's got a gun.”

Shit!
Taylor grabbed his arm and tried to stand in front of him. He shoved her back, but the dratted woman dug her fingernails in his skin and refused to budge. He grabbed her waist and pushed her behind him again—with force. He wondered if she understood when the man called him agent. If she did, this wasn't the time for an explanation. “Taylor, it's okay, babe.” To the man, he said, “If it's me you want, let my family go,” he repeated.

“Like you, I don't want blood and trouble, but don't do anything stupid. Or I'll blow your brains and anyone else here. Toss your gun on the ground, Agent.”