Animal Instincts (Gilded Knights Series Book 3)

by Emilia Finn

  “I’m sorry for trying to punish you via your hotel.”

  Surprised, Beckett’s eyes come to mine as we pass his truck and circle toward the big, red barn. “This is going to be one of those life lessons for you,” he grumbles. He tries for angry, but we’re both so relieved to be free again, I’m not sure we could turn on each other even if we were starving and human flesh started to look half-appetizing. “Tabitha Lawrence, you tried to teach me a lesson. And for what? What did I do to you?”

  “I dreamt of you.” Inappropriate. Way inappropriate! But we’re probably dying tonight anyway. Being so near death makes this okay. “A few nights ago, I was drinking, and when I went to bed, I dreamt of you.”

  “You…” Beckett’s eyes whip to mine. “You dreamt of me?”

  “Yes. And then I woke up mad at you and mad at the world.”

  “So you’re not even punishing me for anything real? You’re mad about something I did in your dreams? What the fuck, Tabitha!”

  “It’s not my fault!” I cry out and let him lead me around the back of the barn. Reginald Sr. is supposedly out here somewhere. Stay alert, stay alive. “It’s not my fault,” I say again, lower this time. “My subconscious messed with me, so I woke up mad and frustrated. Then I got to work, and there you were.”

  “Because I work there!”

  “I know, but do you have to be like… you all the time?”

  “Like me?”

  “Yes. Like you.”

  Our pace slows, but our hands remain twined. And because I’m scared of dying, I allow us to continue walking this way. Hand in hand, strolling instead of fleeing.

  “You’re always so loud and crass,” I explain on a sigh. “Always so arrogant and s—” Sexy. I was going to say sexy.

  “And what?”

  “Pushy,” I say instead. “So pushy. You flirt with anything with a vagina—including, but not limited to, farmyard animals.”

  “That’s self-preservation,” he chuckles and leads us into a field of… well, something. But halfway across that field is a cluster of trees. And in the midst of that cluster is a pond. “You should know as well as anybody that shoving your arm inside a five-hundred-pound beast’s behind isn’t preferable for human or animal. Flirting first is a good way to break the ice.”

  “You need therapy, I’m certain of it.”

  Grinning, he lets our hands swing, and when I stare down between us, no longer able to pretend holding hands is needed for an escape with our lives, Beckett’s gaze follows. He studies our hands like I do, then my eyes. His speak of vulnerability and kindness. His are soft, and scream a million things I can’t decipher.

  I have to let go. I have to force that space.

  So, with a sigh, I do. I pry our hands apart and fold my arms across my chest. “We really should go back to our room.”

  “Already?” He forces a soft laugh and digs his hands into his pockets as we walk. “We literally just escaped, and now you wanna go back?”

  “I need my phone. Give me a few minutes alone with it, and I can get us out of here and into something in town. Cocktail bar,” I tease. “Room service. Separate rooms,” I add as a bonus. “Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

  “Not as wonderful as I would have thought only twenty minutes ago,” Beckett rumbles. “What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow? Um…” I try to picture our calendar in my mind. “Auction registration at nine. Sales begin at ten. Lunch at one. Auction continues from two till six. If you buy anything, I’ll liaise with the transport company at some point around then and have it sent home.”

  “Dinner tomorrow night?”

  I shrug. “I think there was something being held at the hotel.”

  “You mean the hotel where most everyone else is staying… but not us?” he pushes. “Because my assistant is mad at her dream-brain?”

  Warmth fills my cheeks and makes me feel stupid. “That would be correct. But in my defense,” I add before he can start on some speech about unfairness. “It’s not like you didn’t earn the wrath of my subconscious. You bring this on yourself.”

  “That is neither fair nor true,” he huffs. “And it’s rude to boot. Careful,” Beckett places a hand on the small of my back and leads me around a steaming pile of cow shit. “Despite how hilarious I think that would be, I’m not sure you can handle stepping in shit right now.”

  “Good call,” I murmur. “Can we go back to the room so I can book another place?”

  “Not right now.” Glancing up at the sky, Beckett studies the fluffy clouds. The sun, working hard to burst through and warm us. “Tell me something fun about you.”

  “Something—” Startled, I glance up and catch sight of the underside of Beckett’s jaw. “Something fun?”

  “Yeah.” He looks down and smiles with his eyes. “I know Work Tabby. I know how fuckin’ serious you can be. How organized. How stubborn. And now,” he waves a hand back toward the murder house, “how mean.”

  “That was an accident, and the result of inaccurate Yelp reviews.”

  He snorts and looks toward the creek we make our way toward. “So tell me something fun. I already know about Darlene and Dr. Bennett. What else you got?”

  “Um…” I wrack my brain and think. A lot of my stories have Mark in them, if only because he’s been a part of my world for so long. But I don’t want to talk about Mark right now. I don’t want to ruin the fun Beckett and I are having… murder houses aside. “I took my sister to prom.”

  “She was your date?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Lame. Next.”

  “Wait…” Stunned, I look to him. “What? Lame?”

  He shrugs. “Next.”

  “You’re rude!”

  “And you’re the reason we’re going to be murdered in our sleep. Next.”

  “I kissed a frog in sixth grade.”

  At that, Beckett’s eyes come back to mine. “Metaphorically?”

  I snort. “Literally. I was so sure he’d become a prince.”

  “This from the child prodigy vet with years of experience working with animals? Really?”

  “Dr. Bennett told me it was possible,” I snicker. “He said princes are real, and frogs are the product of boys being jerks.”

  “So you kissed a frog, hoping to find a jerk? Tabitha!” he laughs. “We should start a list of toxic behaviors. We’ll start with your want to find a jerk—which would explain the Mark thing and why Jen hates him.”

  “Har-har.” I roll my eyes.

  “And end it with your need to punish me.” He nods back toward the bed-and-breakfast. “I’m a grown man. I’m your boss. Not a fuckin’ fifth grader who needs to sit in the naughty corner.”

  “Don’t be a jerk as often, and I won’t search for ways to punish you. And since we’re collating lists, let’s add your need to flirt with anything with a vagina. Young, old, large, small, not even human; you can’t help yourself. You have to exercise your charm.”

  “That’s called charisma, honey. You should try it sometime.”

  “You’re codependent on your family to the point of toxicity.”

  He scowls and leads me through the ring of trees surrounding the creek. “That was a low blow. They’re not even here.”

  “No, but you talk to them at least a dozen times a day. Each.”

  “Pot, meet the kettle named Jen. And I think a solid family foundation is a good thing.”

  “Sure,” I concede. “Except yours sits on my desk at least three days a week.”

  “So I’ll ask Corey to stop trying to hit on you. What’s the big deal?”

  Laughing, I stop at the edge of the water and think of my desk-squatter.

  It’s not Corey. Sure, Beckett’s older brother visits Lakeside on a regular basis, but it’s Abby who sits on my desk and chatters. It’s Nadia who sits with her and asks for the gossip. It’s Arlo and Idalia who bring coffee and snacks and fill out this odd circle of women who speak of the Rosa men like they
’re some kind of beloved family pet.

  “Abby is in the office at least once a day.”

  “You have a problem with my baby sister?” he scowls.

  “No. I think she’s great. But that doesn’t mean I’ll delete codependence off our list of toxic traits. We’re going for accuracy here, not what looks good.”

  “Okay.” Lowering to the ground, Beckett sits on dirt that will for sure mark his jeans.

  When I don’t follow suit, he grabs my hand and yanks me down until I land with a flop.

  “So, for accuracy’s sake, let’s discuss you and yours,” he snarls. “Maybe I haven’t met your sister yet—and yes, I’ve noticed that you keep her away—but I hear her bitch your boyfriend out whenever she calls. How can you love your sister so much, but not listen to her thoughts on that asshole?”

  Adrenaline spikes in my blood as I ready for a fight. “There are like ten different things to unpack here. First, my sister; I keep her away because I’d rather not hear you banging her in the next room. Call me a prude,” I add when Beckett sits back in shock. “But I don’t fancy listening to ‘Oh Beckett, oh Beckett, oh Beckett’ while you nail her against our shared wall.”

  “Wow. That was, uh… graphic.”

  “But also true! Jen is hot. She’s, like… Miranda Kerr stunning, but blonde and better. And so are y—” I choke on my sentence. “Um… you’re also aesthetically pleasing.”

  “You think I’m hot!” he whoops. “Yes!”

  “You’re a child,” I huff, since it’s better than admitting I think he’s the sexiest man I’ve met in… ever. “So we have Jen-the-model, and Beckett-the-beautiful meeting. Everybody knows you’re gonna hook up and make loud sex.”

  “Inappropriate,” he chuckles.

  “Next; my boyfriend is none of your—or her, or anyone else’s—business. What Mark and I choose to do in private is for him and I to know. Only him and I.”

  Beckett’s smile leaves, and in its place, a mean glare. “And would this private act include fucking against a wall and you crying oh Mark, oh Mark, oh Mark?”

  “If it did, that wouldn’t be any of your—”

  “I don’t wanna know!” Beckett cuts in before I can finish. “I don’t want to imagine you against a wall, Tabby. I don’t wanna think of another man’s hands on you. I don’t wanna think about your legs… and his… around you… and then you…” He slams his palms to his face and mashes them against his eyes. “I don’t want to know.”

  “So stop thinking about it! What the hell is your problem?” I grab his arm to try to pry his hands from his face. But all I get are biceps, muscular and rock-hard. “Beckett? What are you doing?”

  “I like you!”

  I jump away and release his arm as though it’s turned to electricity.

  “I like you,” Beckett groans, as though the admission brings him actual pain. His chest lifts and falls with too much oxygen. He’s gasping for air, and while he does that, he lowers his hands so our eyes meet, and my stomach drops at the intensity in his.

  “I think you’re so fucking beautiful, Tabby, it makes my teeth hurt. I think your neuroses are the cutest thing in the world. I think your organizational skills are nothing short of witchcraft, and your ability to put me in my place is toxically endearing.”

  I lick my dry lips. “Toxically endearing?”

  “It’s me. I’m the toxic one,” he grunts. “I think you’re smarter than anyone I’ve ever met. The fact you don’t care to dress up or impress me is fresh and so fucking sexy, I think wildly inappropriate thoughts about you.”

  “You…” my heart skitters. “What?”

  “I’m terrified you’re going to leave. Sure, some of that is fear of losing the best assistant this side of the fucking Nile. But more than that, I’m afraid of losing you. The smart-mouthed, take-shit-from-no-one, doesn’t give a single damn about impressing me, calls me out on my bullshit at least two hundred times a day, blonde-haired, gray-eyed, somewhat flat-chested Tabitha Lawrence.”

  I look down at my chest and frown.

  “The idea that you have a man is… well, shitty. But he’s been gone, so I’ve been able to pretend he doesn’t exist. But now you’re saying he’s coming to town on Saturday! And you’re having wet dreams about me.”

  My stomach drops, hot lead and tickling fingers of dread. “I never said it was a wet dream. I just…” But it was, Tabitha. Stop with the lying! “I said—”

  “You called me,” he chokes out.

  “I called you? When?”

  “Well, actually, since we’re talking accuracies, I called you.”

  I sweat. All over. “When did you call me?”

  “The night of your dream,” he rasps. “The night we got dinner at the diner, then I walked you home. The night you said you drank. And now, it’s the night you’re saying you dreamt of me.”

  “I don’t…” My brain aches as I try, I try so hard, to catch up. “I’m so confused.”

  “We spoke on the phone, and together, we…”

  No. No!

  “We talked,” he says. “And you touched.”

  “Stop it.” I plug my ears and slam my eyes shut. “Stop now.”

  “I touched too,” he pushes on. “I tried to speak, to tell you to stop, but you were insistent.”

  “Oh my god.” Flashes of my dream come back to me. Me, standing in front of my mirror. Letting the towel fall away. Then climbing onto my bed and bringing myself to peak. “Please stop,” I whimper.

  “I tried to tell you it was me,” Beckett continues. “But you wouldn’t listen.”

  “You’re lying. You’re doing what you do and teasing me.”

  “You wouldn’t listen to me. But when I did speak, you didn’t freak out that it was me on the line.”

  “I didn’t call you!” I explode. “I called Mark. Then I dreamt after that. Two separate situations.”

  “Then alcohol has got your brain addled, because we spoke,” he pushes on. “Me and you. You touched yourself, Tabby. And then you told me to touch myself too.”

  “Stop it!”

  “Now you’re telling me you dreamed of me.”

  “I did!” I cry out. “I dreamt of you. But that doesn’t mean—”

  “You came in my ear,” he whispers. “I came too. Then a few minutes later, we did it again.”

  Beckett’s eyes stop on mine and widen when he spots the tears on my cheeks. My probably-red nose. It’s definitely running. “Why are you crying?”

  “Because what you’re saying is…” I cheated on my boyfriend. I’m a cheater and a liar, and I’m helplessly in lust with my boss. “What you’re saying is impossible—”

  “Not impossible.”

  “Then horrifying,” I cut in. “Humiliating. Wildly inappropriate.”

  “It’s only inappropriate if I didn’t want it too.”

  “I’m in a relationship, Beckett. I’m in a committed relationship!”

  “And I think we can both agree he’s your fucking frog, Tabby.” Beckett leans onto one arm and comes closer. “You tried that, and it doesn’t make you happy.” He leans closer. Closer. Too close. “Now try it with me and see what happens.”

  “No!” I scramble to my feet and bound away. “Beckett! What the hell?”

  “I didn’t come out here planning for this.” He jumps to his feet and squares up to fight back. “I wasn’t even going to tell you, since I knew you’d freak out. I came to work the morning after that call, planning to explore this more, fully intending to show you what could be achieved when we’re together in person. But then you acted like nothing happened.”

  “Nothing did happen!” My stomach revolts and burns. “Nothing happened.”

  “You were hungover. Chronically. Which explained a lot to me.”

  “I’m allowed to drink in my free time.”

  “I didn’t say you can’t.” Beckett takes a step forward.

  I take a step back.

  His nostrils flare. “You were hun
gover and forgetful, so I let it go. I wouldn’t have brought it up. But now you’re saying you dreamed of me.”

  “I can’t control my dreams!”

  “It wasn’t a fucking dream!” Beckett explodes. “That dream you think you remember? It actually happened. You came while your voice was in my ear, Tabby. It was so fucking sweet and pure, then a few minutes after that, we started again.”

  “This is sexual harassment in the workplace.”

  “Oh bullshit!” he snaps. “You’re defensive because you want me too. This is that stubborn side coming out again.”

  “I want you?” I shove him back when he steps forward. “What don’t you understand, Beckett? I’m in a relationship with another man. If what you’re saying is true, then I’m a cheater. It makes me immoral and a horrible human being.”

  “It means you’re in the wrong fucking relationship,” he snarls. “The guy has already shown how much he values you. Two months, Tab! You’ve been here two months! It’s taken him this long to come for you?”

  “How dare you?” I shove him back a step. “How dare you make out like I mean nothing?”

  “You mean everything. Just not to him!” He steps forward again, imposing and dangerous. “I’m telling you right now, Tabby… Two months is a long fucking time. There’s no chance in hell I could be without you for that long.”

  “Stop!”

  “Even now, we’re not even together, and I can’t go two fucking minutes without seeing your face. Two hours means I’ve been in a work emergency and physically unable see you. But you bet your ass I get you on the phone just so I can hear your voice.”

  “Beckett—”

  “Two days doesn’t exist between us,” he declares. “Not once since meeting you have I allowed us to go two days.”

  “That’s because you overwork me! You put me on a starter salary and make me work god-awful hours.”

  “Two fucking months.” He laughs, though it holds no humor, and shakes his head. “The dude doesn’t want you the way I do. He doesn’t cherish you. He doesn’t wanna take care of you.”

  “Take care of me?” I exclaim. “I’m an independent woman. I don’t need to be taken care of.”

  “And yet, here I am, wanting to. Doesn’t mean you’re gonna let me, but that sure as shit doesn’t stop the want.”