by Ellie Hall
“Do you want to ruin your career?” she asked.
“No.” But the dismissive glance and jutted chin suggested he wasn’t going to give up on annoying her all that easily.
However, he probably had to consult his playbook or whatever to figure out his next moves because he was relatively agreeable for the next few minutes while she reviewed dinner manners. “Do you have any questions?”
“Are you single?”
She willed her jaw not to drop.
He smirked. “I’m asking for a friend.”
She scoffed. “Unlikely.” It was more like he was asking to see how far he could push her before she snapped.
“Why’s that? You’re hot.” As he spoke, his eyes never left hers.
She smoldered inside and swallowed thickly in hopes to put out the blaze. That confirmed that he was talking about her when she’d overheard him in the courtyard. However, all he saw her as was a hot chick. Not a career professional. Not a teacher or coach or an intelligent woman with hopes and dreams. Well, maybe not that last part. She wasn’t sure what those were because allowing herself to think that way was dangerous and would only end in disappointment. Her heart stuttered.
Connor’s eyes remained fixed and a smug curl formed on his lips. “No really, I know a guy who likes uptight, smug, tough women like you.”
She bristled but kept her cool. “What pleasant compliments. Your friend must have good taste, but in that case, I guess you don’t know what you’re missing.” She hid a smile at the zinger.
She hoped the comment landed but couldn’t read him as he continued to gaze at her with his copper-brown eyes.
Blistering emotions grew inside of her. She realized what it was. She hated him.
He remained silent, not firing back. Instead, he leaned back in the chair, cradling the back of his head in his hands. His biceps flexed. Without meaning to, her gaze flitted over them. The blazing heat of anger morphed as her cheeks warmed.
He knew exactly what he was doing, getting her all flustered with his man muscles. That left her with the only option to be like the general in the painting behind her and prepare for battle because if there was one thing she wouldn’t lose, it was her heart.
Chapter 4
Connor
Some would say Katerina’s beauty and grace were a blessing, but to Connor, it wasn’t fair that he’d been cursed with an attractive coach and had to keep his hands off. Already, he felt pent up and it had been less than half a day since he’d arrived at reform school.
He felt an itch that had grown into an ache to move, to throw a ball, and to spend some time with a woman. Well, he was spending time with a woman, a dinner date, in fact, if it could be called that. Only, it was clear she hated him.
His father’s famous words, “Life isn’t fair,” resounded in his mind as they so often did, which he’d be hearing again soon—in a week in fact. No way would Katerina like the event he participated in every year. It was meant to be father-son bonding time but had morphed into do this or die... Something like that.
“Mr. Wolfe, before we share this meal, I’m going step out of character for a moment and give you a few instructions.”
“You’re in character, Kat?” A strange hope flared inside that she was only pretending to despise him.
She pressed her lips together, presumably at the use of the shortened version of her name. “We’re playing the roles of dining companions as I informed you earlier. You’re going to demonstrate that you know how to behave like a gentleman when in good company.”
Her accent threatened to knock him out it was so alluring.
“You want me to demonstrate that I’m a gentleman instead of...what?”
She lifted and lowered one shoulder. “Instead of a—” She paused as though trying to find the right word.
He braced himself because he’d been called many things. In his youth, they mostly came from his father and amounted to insults. As an adult, they mostly came from the women he courted and were compliments. Whether they were roleplaying or not, he was curious about what Katerina had to say.
“Actually, I am not sure of the word in English.”
That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. Despite the sometimes strong and harsh accent, her command of the language was impeccable. Most native speakers didn’t speak with such fluidity and clarity.
She shifted as though uncomfortable by this perceived shortcoming.
Interesting.
Katerina straightened in the chair. “It’s where bears and beasts live in the winter.”
Connor’s eyebrows lifted and an amused smile played on his lips. “A den. No, a cave,” he guessed. “Wait, you’re saying you want me to behave like a gentleman instead of a caveman?”
“Yes, that’s right!” She practically bounced in her seat as though they’d worked together to answer a question on a game show.
He felt like sinking back into his seat but rallied. His father hadn’t intended to teach him the art of war, but Connor had learned it by necessity to survive Dennis Wolfe’s fluctuating moods, his harsh rules, and the way he pushed his son to his physical limits. In the end, it had made him stronger, which was the intention. It had also made him stubborn, closed off, and battle-ready at all times.
What had been a game between him and his new coach, Katerina, became a war.
Some fights, he jumped into, fists flying. Others he approached more strategically. That was the case with Katerina—not that he’d fight her. No, but she’d started a battle and he’d win by proving to her that he wasn’t a caveman. At least not all the time.
“For the next two hours, we will act as if we are a civilized couple sharing a meal.”
He was taking a long sip of water and nearly choked at the word couple.
“Make no mistake, I will be evaluating you. Next, I will ask you a variety of questions that survey your personality so I know how to best tailor our program to meet your needs and optimize our time together.”
He was hardly listening to her, drawn into the way the candlelight danced in her eyes. Shaking his head, he snapped out of it. Apparently, some adversaries lulled their opponents with their mesmerizing beauty. His father certainly hadn’t taught him that strategy.
He imagined her with Medusa hair and rotten teeth. That ought to do the trick and get his head back in the game.
“Are you ready?” she asked, indicating he was going to invite her to join him for a meal at a restaurant even though it was actually the dining room of the reform school.
He nodded, fortifying himself. He could turn the charm on when he wanted to, but the question on his lips was do you want to grab a bite to eat? He knew that wouldn’t satisfy her proper sensibilities. Instead, he said, “Would you like to go to dinner?”
She narrowed her eyes as though evaluating. “Good start, but add a little more. Perhaps, ‘I enjoy your company. Would you like to join me for dinner?’”
“It sounds too formal. Too stuffy.” He wanted to say too emotional. He rarely told a woman he enjoyed their company because that made them think he’d want to spend more time with them. But did he enjoy her company?
“To you, that may sound like too much, but to a lady, you’re indicating that you’d like more than to satisfy your basic needs for food and spend time with her.”
“Would you like it if a man said that to you?” Connor asked, curious.
The question was off script and must have caught her off guard because she tilted her head as though thinking about it. Then she snapped out of it and said, “Moving on.”
“So about that dinner? I’ve never been told no.” His lips quirked.
She practically rolled her eyes.
Part of him wanted to appease her and say what he knew he ought to, but he was Connor “the Wolf.” Wolfe. Rules were more like guidelines and the only lines he followed were the yards on the football field. Plus, it was mildly amusing to see her so flustered.
As the evening wore on, the server brought
various courses of the meal. Connor alternately behaved himself and acted naughtily.
Sometimes his pinkie was in. Sometimes it found its way out.
He’d slice each bite of his steak and take a polite bite. Other moments he’d stuff his face.
He sipped his drink and slurped.
His hand rested on his lap and then he’d shift and slouch over the table.
She’d break in and out of character, correcting and instructing him. He wondered if it was giving her whiplash or if she realized that he was toying with her.
A lot of people thought football players were all dumb jocks. What separated those who were professional and had a long career from those who were a flash on the field and then disappeared wasn’t skill and strength. Rather, it was intelligence. The long-term successes observed things, didn’t rock the boat too hard, learned when to blend in at events and toe the line and when to prank their fellow players and have a little fun.
Connor wasn’t dumb. He’d learned how to play the game on and off the field. He could schmooze and make small talk meaningful when he wanted to. He knew what he was doing even if it never felt real. However, part of him couldn’t resist bucking the system if only to remind himself that he was free from his father’s tyranny and could do what he wanted. It was that broken little boy, still living inside of him, that kept him divided in two: Connor and Wolf.
He eyed Katerina who smiled pleasantly. Sure, etiquette was important, but for the first time in his life, he wanted something real. Something that wasn’t pretense with a woman, indulgence because he was a star, or a front to get the results he wanted.
In real life, sometimes Connor sat up properly and ate his meals with manners. Other times he sat on the couch and devoured an entire pizza.
He was a gentleman and a caveman.
He was polite and a prankster.
He was hard working and liked to have fun.
But no one knew that about him because they only ever got one side of him—the side he knew they’d prefer depending on his desired outcome. He never showed the world the real Connor Wolfe. Maybe he wasn’t sure who that was or...he swallowed a sip of water...maybe because he was afraid they’d reject him.
What was it about that day that drove him so deep into thought? He shifted, trying to move away and back into the familiar headspace of carefree Wolf.
Keeping himself so divided made him feel suddenly, achingly tired. It was like he’d been running a marathon against himself his entire life.
“Mr. Wolfe, Mr. Wolfe,” Katerina repeated, pulling him from his trance. “Are you all like this? If so, we have our work cut out for us.” She muffled a huff of frustration, bringing her out of character again.
With sudden clarity, he knew it had to be exhausting to go back and forth like that.
“Trust me, consistently adhering to etiquette will give you a competitive edge. You are all capable, strong, and hard-working men who are dedicated to your sport. You just need a bit of refinement.”
Was she paying him a backhanded compliment? And if so, why did it make him feel so effervescent like the sparkling water at his place setting? Why did he care?
“I like to think of myself as the total package,” he blurted, veering back to Wolf. He couldn’t resist. She’d set him up perfectly for a comment like that.
She lifted an eyebrow, which he’d quickly learned was one of her signature moves to mean she didn’t agree or questioned the statement. “The total package? No, there’s something missing.”
Her accent had a brutal and enticing quality to it. Maybe it was because she spoke the truth. But not one he wanted to hear. Furthermore, that was not what he expected to hear. However, he wasn’t going to ask her what she thought was missing.
“Mr. Wolfe, it is my understanding that the root of the word manners comes from Latin. It means of the hand. You may think of it this way, manners teach us how to handle life. We do this with grace and courtesy. To make others feel as comfortable as we feel in any given situation.”
He adjusted his hoodie, the neck suddenly constricting because if he’d learned anything in the last hour, it was that he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his skin. He wasn’t sure why and he certainly didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want her to tell him either. He wished he hadn’t mooned Nash if only so things could go back to the way they were. That was comfortable.
When he found his voice, he said, “Are you suggesting we’re uncomfortable sitting together?”
She leveled him with her gaze.
Again, it was as though she knew exactly what he’d been thinking. He wasn’t a man of strong faith, but Declan and Chase had rubbed off on him. On top of that, Connor was certain with every fiber of his being that something had helped him survive his childhood and it wasn’t grit alone. He was also oddly sure she wasn’t psychic if that was even real. Yet, somehow, she knew there was stuff going on in his mind that didn’t typically turn his gears.
“I’m suggesting you’re uncomfortable with emotions.” She placed her fork and knife down.
“Is this some kind of therapy session?” he blurted.
“Not at all, but I have been studying your behavior for the last two hours. You know how to conduct yourself. But what I don’t understand is why you don’t choose to do so consistently.”
“Because I don’t want to.” His answer sounded bratty.
She’d gotten under his skin and he didn’t like the way it made him feel—exposed, vulnerable. He had to leave. He shoved up from the table, rattling the flatware and plates. “I’m done here.”
“No, we are not done just yet.”
He tossed his napkin down in response.
She got to her feet and squared off in front of him, toe to toe. She had to crane her neck to meet his eyes, but she did, fearlessly.
He rolled his shoulders.
“Do I need to get a whistle? Train you like a dog? This is my turf. You will listen. You will be tested.”
His jaw twitched. “You’re already testing me.”
“I have never had a failure leave through the doors at Blancbourg during my time as headmistress. It’s up to me to inform Coach Hammer that you passed and I intend to do so in thirty days.”
He folded his arms in front of his chest, intending to put some space between them. She could practically rest her chin on his arms, but she didn’t shuffle back. Katerina held her ground as tiny as she was.
Looking at her was like gazing into a mirror, only the reflection wasn’t of appearance, but everything beneath. She was as stubborn and determined as he was.
“What if I don’t care,” he said.
“In order for you to avoid the penalties from your commissioner, you’d better find it in yourself to care.”
She was right and he should’ve backed off, but he leaned down, his face hovering over hers—eyebrows crossed, nostrils flared, lips pinched. She wore an identical impression but on a smaller scale.
“You will find it in yourself to care for yourself, for your future,” she added.
Their eyes were locked, unrelenting. Both experts in the art of war. For the first time ever, he’d met a worthy adversary. But she had a weapon that he did not. Beauty. He only hoped he could resist it. Her breath whispered across the skin on his arm as though she were taking stock of his defenses as well.
It was as though they were caught in a desert wind with sand buffeting between them, rubbing him raw in some places because of the truth in her comments. But there was dry heat too, warming him through and he didn’t want to think about why that was.
Their gazes held.
His pulse quickened.
She dragged in a breath. “And you will abide by the rules of the playbook.”
That comment sent him reeling backward. “How do you know about that?”
“I know everything.”
She knew too much.
“Which one of the guys told you?”
Her head shifted left and right. “You told me.�
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His throat felt thick. She somehow had too much insight into him. He wouldn’t win by letting her know that.
She clasped her hands as though pleased with herself.
He gazed at the flickering flame of the candlelight, considering his next move. Give up because she was right. Or live by the Boston Bruiser’s motto It ain’t over ‘til we’ve won.
Connor straightened and resumed his position in front of Katerina. In a low voice, he said, “My father once told me an old story about a captain who sailed ashore to wage war. Instead of anchoring the ships, he ordered the crew to burn them.”
She inclined her head as though curious why anyone would do something so insane—that had been his question too. His father had burned the boats, that was for sure.
Connor explained, “Retreating is a choice when you have an option. If you burn the boats, you have no choice but to fight. To win.”
Understanding rippled across her features. “That’s how you live your life. Burn through everything in your way, never mind the wreckage in your wake.”
“Never look back. There is only one way and it is onward.”
“I think you mean to say never look within.”
His muscles tensed. Never had he met someone so perceptive, so right, and so dangerous.
Katerina wagged her hand between them, accidentally brushing her finger across his arm. It sent a surge through him, like a fuse lighting a keg of adrenalin.
“This is war then?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Very well. Let the battle resume tomorrow. Seven a.m. sharp.” At that, she breezed from the room.
A tremor worked through Connor because he’d never faced off with a woman like her and he feared it would destroy him.
Chapter 5
Katerina
Katerina steamed as she strode from the dining room. She could’ve sworn she heard a wolf howl—there were plenty of them in the mountains. Likely, it was probably Connor being immature. He really knew how to rile her up.
