Page 12 of Take Me, Sir

Dean

After my nightat the club was a bust, I decided to try a completely different form of distraction.

Friendship. I didn't want to bother Cross and Hanna yet, not with the new baby. Dalton and Juliette, however, had come back from their honeymoon a week ago, so I could pop by for a visit and not feel guilty.

I stayed for a couple hours while we enjoyed the wine I brought. They told me about their trip, and I told them about mine. It was nice and casual, the sort of thing that should've been perfectly relaxing. Except the question of Kyndall was always there in the back of my mind.

By the time I said goodnight, I decided that ignoring my problem wasn't making it go away. I needed to face it head on, deal with the fact that Kyndall had made an impression, and that I wasn't going to see her again. If I did see her, I needed to be able to stay cordial. I didn't want either of us having our friendships damaged because I couldn't be mature about the way things were. I'd always managed to have polite interactions with previous one-night stands. Kyndall couldn't be any different.

The air was thick and heavy as I stepped outside. It felt like we were going to get a rare thunderstorm tonight. While I generally liked the sunny weather, a storm actually sounded appealing. It would remind me of home.

A car pulled up in front of the building, the back door flying open before the vehicle came to a complete stop. I had a moment to register amazing legs, and then Kyndall was on the sidewalk, face flushed, eyes sparking.

She was halfway through saying something, her voice raised enough that I could hear it. “...if you don't like losing to a woman, you shouldn't have taken my money.”

A man came out of the car right behind her. Seedy-looking, with greasy, slicked-back hair. He didn't look angry, but there was something hard about his eyes that made me not like the way he was looking at Kyndall.

“You didn't say you were some ringer.” He stormed after her, completely ignoring me. “You lied to us.”

“Did you ask the men how good they were?” She spun toward him, curls flying. “Or does having a dick make a person exempt from that sort of question?”

The man's hand clamped down around Kyndall's arm, and I snapped. “Get your fucking hands off her!”

The man turned his head toward me, looking more annoyed than anything else. “Mind your own fucking business, pal.”

“Let go of me,” Kyndall said.

“You don't give me orders, bitch.”

I dropped my hand on the man's shoulder and reminded myself that it wouldn't be a good idea to beat the shit out of him. “Let her go.”

“I can handle myself,” she snapped at me, then focused back on the man. “Take your hand off me, or I will take you down.”

I felt the man tense, and I knew Kyndall had said the exact wrong thing. I didn't know who he was, but I knew his type. Every city and every country had dozens like them. The people who thought they were too rich or too powerful or too important to follow the rules. I had no doubt that Kyndall could handle herself, but this guy didn't strike me as the type to take a threat or assault and walk away.

“You're going to want to think hard about what you do next,” I said quietly. “If you walk away now, I'm going to stay right here with the lady. But if you decide to threaten or try to harm her, you and I will have more than an exchange of words. And I guarantee you will find me more than a match.”

A muscle in the man's jaw clenched, but he released Kyndall's arm, and that was all I cared about. He shot another malevolent look her way, then went back to the car.

“Are you okay?” I put my hand on Kyndall's arm, keeping my touch light.

“I'm fine, Dean.” She sounded annoyed but didn't shake off my hand.

“What was that about?” I asked as the car behind me pulled away.

“Nothing.” She made a dismissive gesture, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at me. “I meant what I said. I can handle myself.”

“I didn't mean to imply otherwise,” I said as I dropped my hand. “I would've stepped in no matter who was involved. No man should put his hands on a woman like that.” I gave her what I hoped was a charming smile. “I happen to be a gentleman.”

She raised an eyebrow, but her expression was a lot more open than it had been a few seconds ago. “I don't know of many gentlemen who can do to me what you did the last time we saw each other.”

She had no idea that what I wanted to do to her now was a hell of a lot less gentlemanly than anything we'd already done.

“Did I not insist that you come first?” I teased. “If that isn't the mark of a gentleman, I don't know what is.”

She laughed, and the tension between us shifted to something infinitely more pleasant. “How'd you know how to find me here?”

I frowned, confused. “I didn't. Why are you here?”

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