Fight for Her by Kelly Favor Page A

Gunner a playful punch in the arm.
    Gunner made as if to hit him back and Ryder ran a few feet away. “I’m not letting you near me. Last time, you gave me the worst Charlie horse of my life.”
    “Don’t be such a wimp,” Gunner said.
    “Look, I should get going, actually. I’m meeting a friend.”
    “What friend?”
    “Don’t you worry about that,” he laughed. “I’ll tow the car to my shop now,”
    Ryder said. “And if all goes well, I’m guessing I can have it back to you by tomorrow morning.”
    “Sounds good,” Gunner told him.
    Ryder got back in his tow truck and drove back down the road to where her car was. She couldn’t see him as he got deeper into the woods, but she could still hear his truck for a while.
    “Would you mind giving me a ride back to town?” she asked Gunner.
    He was still smiling, watching as Ryder drove away. Now his gaze turned to her.
    “Back to town? Why?”
    “I’ll see if I can get a room at the Inn again tonight. I’m sure they have one open.”
    “Don’t be silly,” Gunner told her. “There’s no reason for you to go all the way back to town and spend money on a room. Ryder’s right down the road from here.
    Tomorrow, I’ll drive you down to his shop so you can pick up your car.”
    “I feel horrible,” she told him. “This is too much of an imposition.”
    “You can sleep in my bed,” he told her, “and I’ll take the couch. It’s no problem.”
    She shook her head. “I won’t take your bed, Gunner.” Still, her heart was beating fast again and she felt butterflies in her stomach at the thought of spending the night with him.
    “Listen, you’re hurt and you’re my guest. I insist.”
    Krista was going to keep arguing, but then she saw the look on his face and knew he wouldn’t change his mind.
    It was only as they went back inside his house that she realized Ryder had taken her car back to his shop, along with her computer and her clothes.

    ***
    The rest of the day passed by like some kind of dream, a fantasy of what it would be like to spend time with Gunner King if she could have mapped it out.
    As she rested on the couch, Gunner went to the store and came back with pasta and vegetables and meat. Then, as the sun began to slowly sink in the sky and the light filtering in through the cabin windows turned dimmer and dimmer, Gunner prepared a fabulous meal.
    He did everything, chopping onions and peppers and fresh garlic.
    Krista had wanted to help, but he refused, insisting that she rest and periodically ice her neck.
    While Gunner made his spaghetti sauce, he talked. “I learned to cook from my grandmother,” he said, as he put the veggies in a pan and sautéed them.
    The smell hit her nostrils almost immediately, causing her mouth to water.
    “I never would have pictured you to be helping your grandmother in the kitchen,”
    she said, her feet tucked into the afghan, as she watched him work.
    He moved gracefully around the stove, tasting the food, adding spices—he seemed totally relaxed in this environment. “Grandma lived with us,” he said, “until she passed when I was about twelve.” He threw more veggies into the pan and they hissed and popped. “The kitchen with her was a safe haven for me. If I wasn’t there, I would be out with my older siblings, and that was like a battlefield all day and night.”
    “You were the youngest of six,” she said.
    He glanced over at her. “You’ve done your research, obviously.”
    She smiled self-consciously, but he didn’t seem annoyed.
    “Was it hard being the youngest? I mean, I’m the youngest of three and it was kind of a battle for me,” she admitted.
    He paused for a moment, and she thought maybe he wouldn’t answer, but then he did. “Of course it was hard. I had to scrap every day for what I wanted. But that helped when I got older and joined the football and wrestling teams. I was used to fighting, and then I got bigger than my brothers and sisters and just about everyone