Animal Instincts (Gilded Knights Series Book 3)

by Emilia Finn

  “Can I just…” My heart thunders. My pulse skitters. Sweat breaks out along my spine, because there’s a part of me, a massive part, that is terrified of losing the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

  Maybe she broke up with Mark, and maybe she told me she loves me too. But three years is a long time, and for the better part of thirty-six months, Tabby chose him. She chose loyalty. She chose fidelity. She chose him, even when he wasn’t choosing her.

  “Can you what?” Tabby asks when I don’t go on. “What were you gonna say?”

  “Just that… well…” I turn and pull her around until I’m able to bury my face in her hair.

  I’m petrified she’ll choose wrong. Frightened she’ll fall back into something with him, purely because he’ll have the bleeding heart, and she, the too-kind heart.

  “I don’t want to put words in your mouth, Tabby. And I sure as hell don’t wanna pressure you into anything.”

  “But?” She pulls back a few inches and catches my eye. “What?”

  “He knows life with you,” I choke out. “He might’ve lost sight of that these past two months, and maybe he took advantage of your loyalty. But now that you’ve broken up with him, I know for a fuckin’ fact he’ll have realized what he lost.”

  I cup her face and bring her closer. “Loving and losing someone like you… I know with my whole soul that shit would be unbearable. He’s gonna try to lure you back.”

  “Lure me?” She scowls and attempts to shake her head. “I’m not a fish swimming around a boat, Beckett.”

  “He’s gonna ask you to marry him.”

  Stunned, her entire body jolts in my hands. “What?”

  “I would!” I explode. “I want to! He knows how amazing you are. But he lost you, and now he’s coming back, and just wants to talk,” I growl. “He wants dinner with you, Tabby. A chance to talk to you about something serious. He’s got one mission now, and that’s to win back what he lost. So tonight, when you slide into a pair of jeans and prepare for an evening with the ex, a kind of debrief and way to let him down easier, he won’t be playing the same game. He’ll be there to win you back. Whatever it takes. Whatever he needs to say, he’ll say it. And you’ll be sitting there, your too-soft heart on a fucking platter. You won’t be able to hurt him, you won’t be able to say no.”

  “So you think I have no voice?” Hers tremors, and her hands wrap around my wrists. “You think I’m spineless enough to jump between beds, all because I don’t wanna hurt either of you?”

  “No. But I think you’re too fucking perfect, and this situation—me, you, him—whatever he has to say, it’ll hurt you.” I press a kiss to her lips. Gentle. Breathy and soft. “I just don’t want you to hurt. You being in pain is worse for me than my own hurt. So much so that there’s at least a part of me that thinks breaking up with me and being with him, all so you don’t hurt, would be less painful for us all. That’s how fucking twisted this is.” I slide my fingers around hers and bring our hands to my pounding heart. “I just don’t want to see you cry.”

  We say goodbye to the farm. To Meadow Hill’s Bed and Breakfast. We say goodbye to Reginald and Darla, to little Reggie, and to the squeaky bed. We say goodbye to Graciela and Rose, and oddly enough, we say “We’ll miss you” to Samara, and we actually mean it.

  I had no clue when we arrived here two days ago that I would actually care about anyone once we left, but that little girl, with her creepy hair and monotone voice, and her new foal Rose; my heart yearns to stay in touch. To actually invite her to my wedding, if Tabby ever accepts my proposal.

  We cruise out of the long, gravel driveway at a little before ten, and though Tabby and I aren’t fighting, we’re not mad at each other, and in fact, we’re still riding that new-love, new-relationship bliss, there’s still a cloud sitting on our happiness.

  A cloud named Mark.

  Hell, there’s also a cloud named Tabby Is A Vet, Not A Receptionist. Though, that second one is so much easier to fix. That cloud hangs only over her head, not mine.

  Once we hit the freeway and we’re promised five hours of nothing else, Tabby takes out her phone and gets back to the work she was forced to ignore for the last two days. Auction houses sending up what the fucks because of our absence. Freighting companies being told to stand down. Clients who’ve called Lakeside and left a message who now need callbacks and slots in my schedule.

  Tabby works in silence, speaking only when she must deal with someone on the phone instead of via email, and every hour or so, she kills a call and acts like neither of us notice it’s Mark.

  She doesn’t speak of it, and I don’t ask questions.

  My schedule is already overfull, since I took two days off work, but Tabby seamlessly slides clients into the smallest gaps. She’s intuitive and knows who can be double-booked because a consult will be quick, and who to allow extra time for, because she’s smart enough to know that stinky breath may seem small to the owner, but to us is an indication to look deeper to find that pooch’s problem.

  My phone dings every time Tabby updates our calendar, but I leave her be. I remain silent.

  Only when we stop for food and gas at the halfway point do I take out my cell and make a quick call. I do it on the sly, I keep my words low, but still, Tabby watches me from the corner of her eyes. Though she does what I do; she doesn’t ask.

  We both came on this working vacation with one life. Now we’re leaving with an existence that looks entirely different. We’re in this together, we’re committed, and we’ve exchanged I love yous. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have loose ends to tie up first. To move into the new, we must make sure the old is squared away so our relationship has room to blossom.

  For the second half of our drive, Tabby works with sunglasses on and her feet on my dash. Coffee in one hand, and her phone in the other, she hijacks my charging cord and continues to run both of our lives with a tiny device.

  And ignores calls from her ex.

  “You can just take it, you know?” Around the four-hour mark, the trill of her phone threatens to send me over the edge of sanity. Not even the radio can help drown out Mark’s pleas for attention. Not the wind outside. Not the beautiful scenery. Or hell, the view right inside my truck, as Tabby’s long legs fold and contort to fit against the dash. “Just answer his call, tell him to fuck off, and be done with it.”

  “Har-har.” Tabby’s lips twitch, even as she types something on her phone. “I’m not telling anyone to fuck off. That would be rude.”

  “You have to do something, babe! He’s going to blow everyone’s phones up until he finds you.”

  “I’ll send him a text.” She types. Types. Types. “Pinocchio’s at seven. We can talk, but that’s it. I’ll help you pack up your things this weekend so you can take them back with you.”

  Brutally hitting send, Tabby turns to me with a smile. “You need to stop freaking out so much.”

  I scowl and look back to the road. “I’m not freaking out. I never freak out.”

  “You’re freaking out today. You think me going to dinner means I’ll move in with him.”

  “You’ve already moved in with him,” I growl. “The issue now is getting you out of that apartment.”

  “Out?” She scoffs. “I’m not leaving it. I only just got it decorated.”

  “So I guess I’ll move in with you, then.” I study the signs that line the freeway.

  Just a few days ago, we were doing this exact same thing; Tabby was working, taking calls, playing referee with every single person I know… and I was looking for attention. Now, we pass those same signs, but not one of them mentions the world’s largest bowl of clam chowder, or guacamole, or whatever bullshit I was spitting in my attempt to catch her eye.

  Tabby’s phone trills again, but though she goes to decline, her entire frame straightens, and her smile beams as she brings the device to her ear. “Jen?”

  “What did you do?” Jen screeches so loud, even I can hear her. “Fuckface Mark
is calling me up and waxing on about how you’ve finally dumped his ass.”

  “He called you?” Tabby hisses and turns toward the door, as though seeking privacy. “Why? He can’t stand you.”

  “The feeling is mutual! And I don’t know. Did he think I would convince you otherwise? What the hell is wrong with that idiot?”

  “I don’t know.” Tabby looks to the radio, then her watch. “Listen, we’ll be back in about an hour, then I’ve got to—”

  “Uh, no!” Jen exclaims. “You don’t get to slide on over that. You broke up with Mark? And you didn’t think to call and tell me about it? What the fuck?”

  “I was busy, and I don’t need to call you every time my relationship status changes.”

  “How many times did it change since I last saw you?” Her words are the equivalent to a pervy fat man chortling at a young woman. “Two days in the middle of nowhere with the hot vet? Hubba hubba, Tabitha.”

  “Jennifer!” Tabby snarls and peeks over her shoulder to me.

  Her face burns a furious red when I lift a single brow and smirk.

  “He can hear you!”

  “Yoohoo! Doc McHotty! Did you fuck her brains out?”

  “Oh my god!” Tabby chokes when I laugh. “Stop it! That is my boss, and what if you were completely off-base? Huh? What if I hooked up with someone else, and you’ve just said something entirely inappropriate to my boss?”

  “If you hooked up with someone else, then that makes McHotty available. And I’m just saying, this girl has been thirsty for two months.”

  “Jen!”

  “Which is it, Tabby Cat? Are you in or are you out? Because if he’s home from a work vacation, I bet he’s tired and could do with a little Lawrence lovin’.”

  “Lawrence lovin’,” I snicker. “I love her.”

  “You will not date him!” Tabby hisses. “You will not give him Lawrence anything, and I’m not discussing this with you.”

  “You totally fucked him. I’m proud of you, sis! You’ve been panting after him for months.”

  “Oh my god.” Tabby sinks into her seat and turns her face toward the window. “I’m gonna kill you.”

  “Don’t forget to invite me to family dinner,” Jen teases. “Word on the street is the Rosa brothers are hot as hell, and I already told you I’m thirsty.”

  “I hate you,” Tabby whimpers when I chuckle. “I’m hanging up now. Then I might throw myself in front of a truck.”

  “No, wait,” Jen cackles. “Seriously though, Fuckface called me. You really broke up with him?”

  “Yes,” Tabby murmurs. “I broke up with him.”

  “Are you okay?” Jen cares. Despite her teasing and bullshit, she cares most that her sister is happy. “Do we need movies and ice cream tonight?”

  “No.” Sighing, Tabby pushes to sit a little taller in her seat. “Yes, I’m okay. No, I don’t need ice cream. In fact…” Her eyes come to mine. Slowly. Fearfully. “Um… Mark and I are getting dinner tonight to talk it all through.”

  “What?” Jen explodes. “You’re going out on a date with your ex-boyfriend? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I have to, Jen! I owe him a discussion at least.”

  “You do not!” the sister shouts right back. “You broke up, and he’s a prick anyway. You owe him nothing.”

  “He was moving to town for me, Jen. Today!”

  “No, you moved to town for him! Then when he was supposed to move his ass and join you, he didn’t. Oh wait!” Her tone changes completely. “Are you gonna move back now?”

  My heart drops into my asshole.

  “Tabby? You moved for him, now you’re not with him. You know Bennett will take you back, and—”

  “I’m gonna stay here,” Tabby whispers. “I… uh… have other reasons to stay now.”

  “Heh-heh-heh. You sly minx. He fucked your brains out.”

  Tabby draws a deep breath and sighs. “Jen, stop.”

  “As long as you’re happy,” her sister cuts in seriously. “I only gave you a hard time because I knew you moved for the wrong reasons. Mark never deserved you, he was never worthy of that kind of selflessness.”

  Tabby’s eyes come to mine. Shyly. Questioningly. “But Beckett is?”

  “So you admit to fucking McHotty?” Jen snickers and dissolves a little of the tension in my gut. Am I worthy of Tabby staying in town? Do I deserve her? “I don’t know, Tab. I don’t know if Rosa has earned you. But I know he deserves my scrutiny and beady eye for a little while. He deserves the chance to make you happy, because fuck, the world owes you a guy who thinks you shit glitter.”

  “Well, that’s gross.”

  “He deserves a chance to try,” she presses on, “and I’ll take my sweet time deciding if he makes the cut.”

  “Jen—”

  “Now tell me why the hell you’re going to dinner with fuckface tonight.”

  “Because he asked? Because he deserves more than a text to end a three-year relationship?”

  “First, no he doesn’t. But let’s pretend for a second what you say is true; what do you expect to gain from this dinner? A penpal? Good vibes and permission from him to date someone else?”

  “Well, no—”

  “She’s a marshmallow for people,” I insert so both sisters hear me. “She feels bad, she feels like she owes him something.”

  “Yeah, he gets you,” Jen snickers. “You get her, McHotty, well done.”

  “Hundred bucks says he asks her to marry him tonight,” I add.

  “Ugh!” Jen spits out. “Gross!”

  I shrug and slip into the slow lane. I’m running out of freeway, and I don’t particularly want to rush Tabby to this dinner. “Want in on this bet?” I say for Jen. “You seem like you’d be fun to gamble against.”

  “Fine, but two hundred says the schmuck finally admits he’s gay.”

  “Jennifer!” Tabby shouts.

  “What? I believe in all types of love, Tab. You know I do. Whether it’s hetero, homo, or anything in between. If he’s gay, I would totally support that. In fact, I might even like him more once he admits it.”

  “Jen!”

  “Stop shouting at me. I’m just calling it like it is. Mark has seriously suppressed feelings toward the Y chromosome, and all I’m saying is, perhaps he feels that way because he’s projecting his own insecurities.”

  “Mark is not gay!”

  “Two hundred bucks,” Jen repeats. “When is this dinner?”

  “I’m not telling—”

  “Seven o’clock tonight,” I supply, and grin when Tabby’s eyes shift to mine. “Pinocchio’s.”

  “I’m going to cut you both.”

  “I’m still saying engagement,” I confirm. “If he was gay, he wouldn’t be trying so hard to get her back.”

  “Guess we’ll see when we see,” Jen singsongs. “It was good talking to you, Doc.”

  “Likewise. We’ll be back in a bit, and if you’re at the apartment, I wouldn’t mind meeting my future sister-in-law.”

  “Oh god,” Tabby groans. “He just never stops.”

  “I like him,” Jen snickers. “He is most certainly not gay, or blasé about having a Lawrence in his bed.”

  “Only one Lawrence,” Tabby growls. “Hard line.”

  “Party-pooper,” Jen grumbles. “See you when you get home. I’ve missed the shit out of you.”

  21

  Tabby

  Relationship Bliss

  I dress for dinner: jeans and a top. No heels. No lipstick. No frills for my ex-boyfriend. I smooth my hair into a ponytail, and brush my teeth in the bathroom mirror.

  And all the while, Beckett watches me.

  He spent the afternoon with Jen, officially meeting her, joking with her, taking pleasure in taunting me. But now it’s time to dress and go, which means his smile is wiped clean. His smugness is gone as I dress for someone else. As I prepare to go to dinner with someone other than him.

  “You need to relax.” I set my tooth
brush in the cup on the sink and turn to face him. “It’s just a meal. Nothing crazy ever happened while eating a meal.”

  “I fell in love with you while we ate dinner and birthday cake at my brother’s house,” Beckett says easily. “I planned my life with you at Franky’s diner, and fell deeper in love with you while you wore doilies.”

  “Beckett, stop.”

  “I declared a lifetime while picnicking with you on a bedroom floor.”

  “Stop!”

  “Then don’t pretend that a meal is nothing!” he snaps back. He’s not mad at me, he’s mad at the powerlessness he feels. “A meal can be everything, and you’re willingly going in, knowing a ring is probably being presented in a matter of hours.”

  “I’m not getting engaged! I’m going there to get closure on that chapter of my life. Mark and I deserve to close this off properly.”

  “And I’ll just sit here with your sister, waiting to see if Mark has some magical words that draw you back?”

  “You trust me so little?” I storm out of the bathroom and make my way along the hall. I don’t have to turn back to know Beckett is following. “Are you seriously going to bitch at me for months about my loyalty to Mark and how my fidelity is unshaking, but at the first test of what we have, you assume I’ll flip-flop all over the damn place?”

  I push through my bedroom door and plop down to sit on the end of my bed. Snagging my shoes, I shove my feet inside and avoid meeting Beckett’s eyes. “I can’t be both. I can’t be helplessly loyal, but also an indecisive whore.”

  “Hey!” He rushes forward and pushes me back until I flop onto my mattress. He straddles my hips and cups my throat with his palm. He’s not rough, he doesn’t hurt me. But he sure as hell demands my attention. “I have never, ever said that about you. I have never once called into question your morals or self-respect.”

  “So what’s the problem? Why are you worrying so much about this?”