Ninja At First Sight (Knitting in the City, #4.75)

by Penny Reid

“Don’t let me in,” he said, his voice back to its emotionless baseline. “I might ravish you or force you into a hasty, unsuitable marriage.”

I hated it when other people were uncomfortable; I couldn’t be comfortable if I knew someone else was uncomfortable.

“Go to your room, and go to sleep.” I almost succeeded in sounding convinced. “Fine,” he said. “But I’m not one of those drunks who feels ashamed of their behavior the next day…granted I might pretend to forget everything that’s just happened, but I’ll never feel ashamed.”

But instinct told me Greg wouldn’t be easy. As well, my feelings for Greg felt meaningful, messy, heady, intricate, and not entirely safe. He was not safe. Caution and sense told me that eventually these feelings would make me do something stupid, turn me into a fool, act against my best interests and better judgment. Despite the warning bells, or maybe because they were so loud and persistent, I admitted the truth, “Yes, Greg. Yes, I feel it, too.”

“I’m a selfish bastard. You should know that about me.” I set the liquor down on the desk, tilted my head to the side, watching him. “What makes you think so?” “Because I look at you, and I think, you and me, we’re going to get married one day. And then, if you’re a very good wife…” His eyes skated over my face as he paused, and it felt like a loving caress; but it also felt possessive and dangerous. His cadence dropped, deepened, as his stare settled on my lips. “If you’re a very good wife, we’ll have a mortgage.” I blinked. The lull of his voice masked the meaning of his words for a split second. “A mortgage?” He nodded. “Yes. And several children and perhaps a dog.”

“Shouldn’t you be playing up your good points? Isn’t that what guys do when they’re interested in a girl?” “But you’ve never been kissed,” he responded, his tone still flat but his eyes dancing with mischief, “and you’ve never dated. This is my chance to ruin you for anyone else.”

When I tell you that I’m a selfish bastard, I mean it. And when I tell you that you’re wonderful and amazing and stunning and definitely the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met, you’ll know I mean that, too.”

I swallowed and managed to whisper, “You don’t know me.” “Not all of you…” his eyes drifted to my lips and seemed to sharpen, “but I will.”

“Kissing? Is that what you call that?” He whistled low then added, “If that’s how you kiss then you should apologize.” I tried not to grimace. I tried, and failed. Mark’s attention moved from me to Greg, then back again. “Who is this guy?” I sighed, my flustered frustration punctuated by the puff of white condensation as I exhaled. “That’s Greg.” “Greg?” “Yes. Greg. He… lives on my floor.” Mark’s eyes narrowed. “Is he your boyfriend?” “No,” I said. “Not yet,” Greg added helpfully.

“You know better, Darling. I’ve never been harmless. And it’s a good thing too, because you don’t want harmless.”

But I want to be your only source of romantic situations from this point forward.”

“I would like the reverse to be true as well. I would like to be your only source of romantic situations from this point forward.” He sighed, it sounded both happy and forlorn. “Even if you didn’t want it, it’s yours. It’s been just twenty-four hours and I’m ruined.” “You’re ruined?” I grinned. “Yes. I’ve been through all my best pornography videos this evening and nothing interests me.”

“Where will you go? It’s supposed to snow all day.” “I’ll be back before it gets dark,” she said, waving away my concern and grabbing her bag. “We’re supposed to get ten inches overnight.” Greg opened the door for Fern and mumbled under his breath, “I might give Fiona ten inches this afternoon, if she plays her cards right.”

Girls aren't beautiful, they're pretty. Beautiful is too heavy a word to assign to a girl. Women are beautiful because their faces show that they know they have lost something... and gained something else.’”

But reason told me it would be a mistake to allow anyone—even Greg—to be the master of my happiness.

conversing with him felt akin to breathing, natural and necessary.

Because a relationship is made up of many burdens, and the two people within the relationship have different strengths and weaknesses, abilities and talents.”

But burdens don’t grow lighter if both people are contributing equally. Life isn’t a fifty-fifty split, that’s just being lazy. Burdens are weightless, worlds change, and love endures when both people are contributing their maximum.”

“Because if it’s possible to have a partner who gives all of themselves without reservation, who looks forward to working and sacrificing for me just as I look forward to doing the same for her, who can’t help but love ferociously, brutally, and unconditionally—and even perhaps without reason or sound judgment—that’s what I want. Because that’s how I plan to love in return.”

I’m convinced success—in anything—has four facets: one part hard work, one part talent, one part blind luck, and one part who you know.”

“She’s horrible,” he whispered accusingly. “I thought you said your childhood was fine? That woman isn’t fine. She’s Satan.”

“Seriously, why did you say your childhood was fine?” I was glad he wasn’t here, in my room, for this conversation. “Because it was fine. Like I said, I had a roof over my head, food, safety-” “Yes, but a child requires more than the minimum, Fe. You deserved more than merely shelter, food, and safety. You deserve more than that now.”

Also, FYI: Gentoo penguins mate for life. Whereas Adélie penguins prostitute themselves for rocks. I’d like to be your Gentoo penguin. -Greg P.S. Unless you’re open to a rock arrangement. If so, please find my first down payment enclosed.

“What are you doing?” I lifted my gaze to his, realizing I’d been staring, and answered honestly. “Remembering you.”

I love you. Three words. Eight letters. Mind blown.

“I want to support you, I want to sacrifice for you, to forgive you, to cherish you. I want to be unconditional with you…”

I placed my fists on my hips, preparing for a fight, preparing to tell him that I loved him. Because I was pretty sure this suffocating longing and desperation to hand over my heart was, in fact, love.

“I’m not good enough for you, Fe. But…” he shrugged, giving me his crooked smile, “no one else is either. So I might as well take you for my own. Marry me.”