Page 19 of Keeping Knight

“Every meal?” I’m not sure I can reconcile Jester, who looks to be in as good of shape as Micah, to a person who eats donuts all the time.

“If he could. But he doesn’t. Not with the requirements of our job.”

“So you work out a lot?” I ask. No sooner than the question is out, a memory of Micah’s bare chest comes to mind. Not just his muscled chest, but the broad shoulders above it and the eight-pack beneath.

Something stirs deep inside me, sending a pulse of heat to my core. My stomach flutters. My heart skips a beat.

Apparently, even after my brush with death, my libido is still working just fine. And now that it’s seen Micah in all his shirtless glory, it’s even more affected by him than before.

Because of course I’ve thought about Micah in a sexual way. It would be close to impossible not to, given the hours spent beside him in a hot kitchen, watching his forearms and biceps work, noticing the pull of his T-shirt across his shoulders and chest, glimpsing that bare sliver of skin whenever he stretches…

“Most every day,” Micah replies. “I got into the habit back when I was in the Army. And working for Fox & Falcon, it just goes with the job. It might not seem necessary, given that I spend a lot of time working with the dogs. But I work in the field, too. If I’m helping with security for a big fundraiser or providing personal protection for a client, it’s important that I can take on any threat that might arise. Which means I need to stay in shape.”

“That makes sense.” As my gaze drifts towards his chest, I jerk it back to his face. “I’m sorry about interrupting your workout this morning,” I add, “since it’s part of your job.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Micah’s hand comes to my back, and he guides me away from the front door and through the living room. “I can skip a day. It’s not a problem.”

“Still. I don’t want to interrupt your routine. Staying here is already putting you out⁠—”

“Ruby.” Micah turns me to him. “We already talked about this. You are not putting me out. I asked you to stay because I want you here. So don’t think you’re inconveniencing me. You’re not. Alright?”

I’m not typically an insecure person. A little introverted, yes. I like small groups better than large ones, and I’m perfectly happy spending a weekend alone in my apartment with some books and a paint-by-number kit for company. But on a normal day, if a person offered to do something for me, I’d take them at their word.

But today isn’t a normal day. And I’m not feeling myself. Not even close. I’m anxious and tired and worried and scared and feeling a host of other emotions I can’t even put words to. Plus, staying at Micah’s adds a new element to our relationship. A big one. We aren’t just friends who see each other once a week. I’m living with Micah. He comforted me after my nightmare and made me breakfast and sat with me in the solarium, talking until well after the sun came up.

Oh, and he saved my life; putting himself in danger in the process. If my attacker had still been inside my apartment when Micah arrived, who knows what could have happened. Micah could have been hurt. Badly injured. Even killed.

My stomach lurches. The idea of Micah getting hurt is awful on its own. And if he was hurt protecting me? That’s even worse.

“Ruby?” Micah rubs my shoulder gently. “Are you okay? Do you need to rest? If you’re not up for this yet, that’s okay. We can reschedule the meeting for later.”

I give myself a quick mental shaking. Get it together. Micah is going out of his way to help, which he doesn’t have to do. He doesn’t have to do any of this.

Which, I realize, is probably another reason why I’m feeling so insecure. If Micah and I were dating, it would make sense. Of course he’d want to protect me. But we’re casual friends, and new ones, at that. He could have just as easily left me at the hospital rather than bringing me here. He doesn’t need to ask his friends over to discuss the possibility of Fox & Falcon taking on my case. He could leave the police to handle it instead.

And maybe, my inner voice of reason adds, what Liam did messed you up more than you want to admit. And it’s hard to accept that a man—a very nice, handsome, obviously successful man—would do more for you than Liam ever would.

Maybe, I concede. That might have something to do with it.

“I’m okay,” I reply. Looking into Micah’s concerned eyes, I force a little smile. “My mind keeps wandering, is all. Now is fine to meet with your friends. Really.”

He regards me for a few seconds, his gaze assessing. “Okay.” Resting his hand on my back again, he continues towards the dining room. “But if you get tired or overwhelmed, just say so. It’s not a problem at all.”

Once we reach the dining room—a room with giant floor to ceiling windows that’s half the size of my entire apartment, Micah leads me over to the twelve-person table and pulls a chair out for me. “Jester’s still rummaging through the fridge,” he says as I scan the empty room. “Probably hiding the ketchup or something like that.”

I sink into the chair. “Hiding the ketchup?”

Micah smiles. “Where do you think he got the nickname from? Jester’s always liked playing pranks on people. You should have seen the shit he pulled when we were younger.”

“Hey,” Jester interjects as he walks into the room, an ice-filled glass of clear liquid in hand. “What are you telling Ruby about me?”

“Just telling her where you got your nickname from,” Micah replies. He sets the box of donuts on the table and turns to Jester. “And how you were probably messing around in the fridge, trying to figure out the best place to hide the ketchup.”

Jester takes a seat across the table and sets his glass down. His eyes widen innocently. “I swear, I didn’t touch the ketchup.”

“The mustard, then?”

Jester grins. “Nope.”