my experience that the sooner you figure that out, the better off you’ll be.”
“But Hanson…the things he said…I can’t let that…”
“It’s not your place, Mr. Pukui,” she told him, her frown drawn down when he looked away from her. Gia knew her mistake the second she made it. Kai didn’t look up from his tumbler, seeming interested in the way the ice melted together as Gia sat on the edge of her desk, her feet next to his by his chair. “I don’t need a rescue,” she started, willing him too look up at her, holding her voice even, clear. When Kai glanced at her, nodding once, Gia hurried to give him something in the way of an explanation. “Hanson isn’t the first asshole to start rumors about me, and I doubt he’ll be the last. All you bloodying his nose does is make paperwork for me when his agent hassles me about bugging the league with penalties and fines, and bullshit I know you don’t want to deal with.”
“No.” Kai shook his head, rubbing his hand over his face. “No, I don’t want that…” He looked on the verge of saying more, but decided instead to down the rest of his bourbon.
“I will say,” Gia started, unable to watch his expression for long, “that while a rescue from you isn’t needed and is, in fact, more trouble than it’s worth…it…uh, is very much appreciated.”
Kai leaned back again, the tension that had made his face seem harsh and worried loosening as Gia’s words seemed to penetrate, and something new, something she had to admitted that she liked seeped into her chest: his warm, beautiful smile.
“How much do you appreciate it?” he asked, grinning at her like he’d done a thousand times before. She squinted at him, suspicious already of the question. “Enough, say... to ask McAddams to drop the penalty?”
Gia’s laugh was loud and automatic. She had to give it to Kai, he was fast and bold. A combination she would have normally loved.
“Not a chance in hell, Kai.” She laughed harder, holding her stomach when he shrugged as if to say, “can you blame me?”
“You know,” he said, standing when Gia moved to circle around her desk. Kai kept still, his attention on her. “I think that’s the first time you haven’t called me ‘Mr. Pukui.’”
She considered him, her attention fractured between the importance of settling the issue with the fight and wanting Kai to know that she appreciated him sticking up for her.
“There aren’t many people who are loyal anymore,” she told him, not withholding her smile. “Yesterday, you showed me you’re loyal to Noble. I respect that.”
“She wasn’t the only one I was sticking up for, Gia. You have to know that.” Kai took a step, moving to Gia’s side and she didn’t stop him. The same buzz she always felt anytime the man came near her hummed close, but Gia pushed it back, pretending, like always, it was something she could go on ignoring. He smelled like cologne, something rich, sweet that got closer when he shifted next to her. “You have to know,” he continued, “that asshole, any asshole who puts your name in his filthy mouth like that will catch my hands again.”
“I…appreciate that. I do, but you know it’s not necessary.”
“I know it’s not, but that’s what you do for your people.”
“Oh, I’m your people now?”
He hesitated, watching her, his dark gaze shifting over her body, his mouth twitching as though there something he wanted to say but knew it would spoil the mood. “Yeah. You’re my people. Don’t doubt that.”
He left without another word, offering her a wink over his shoulder before the soft click of her door sounded. Gia stared at the woodgrain of that closed door, seeing nothing, second guessing the wisdom in shortening the distance she’d put between herself and the beautiful lineman. He’d defended her, proven to her he could be loyal. Gia knew Kai was a good man, someone any wise woman would be happy to have at her side. Problem was, for Gia, someone that loyal, that beautiful at her side, especially that particular someone, was a very dangerous combination.
7.
KAI
KAI CAME to the French Market for the fresh fruit the old man with the worn straw cowboy hat offered four days a week. On Thursdays, the guy had pineapples—fat, dark pineapples that Kai bought by the armfuls and spent hours cutting into chunks, with the sticky sweet juice dripping over his island and onto the floors