Neanderthal by Avery Flynn
Chapter Five
Kinsey
Kinsey and Morgan sprinted to the ring. Kinsey’s hands pressed to the springier-than-expected mat, her heart hammering against her ribs as she stayed on the outside of the ropes as close as possible to where Griff fell while Morgan did her damnedest to practically hurdle the three rungs and get to her brother.
Griff’s long, thick eyelashes rested against his cheeks. For once, Kinsey didn’t know what to do. Call 911? Flag down a cop? Scream for a medic? Shut up and stay out of the way? In the ring, Morgan was shooting daggers at the wiry guy who had gotten to Griff first.
Eggsy smacked a palm against Griff’s cheek. “Stop being so dramatic, Beckett. Get up.”
Kinsey glared up at the other man. Had he not heard of concussions?
Griff groaned, a sound that made it seem as if he were half dead—or wished he was, then opened his eyes and sat up. “What the fuck happened?”
“You dropped your hands like a dumb-ass.” The other guy let out a disgusted snort. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was your first time in the ring. Rookie fucking mistake.”
Griff’s gaze landed on Kinsey again, and all the haziness went out of it. A zing of awareness zipped through her, settling low in her gently rounded belly. For a woman who was never at a loss for words or gonna turn down a second order of Meemaw’s biscuits—thigh cellulite be damned—she couldn’t put together a string of thoughts right now.
“Not a mistake,” Griff said, still looking right at her.
“Oh, you meant to let Mac knock you on your ass?” the other man asked with enough sarcasm to slather on a pork chop.
The question seemed to take a second to register, but once it did, he sat up and rolled his neck. “Never doubt that I have a plan.”
“Yeah, well, how about instead, you have a care for that ugly fucking mug of yours and keep your damn hands up,” the man grumbled as he stood from his crouch over Griff. “Losing my biggest investor would be hell on my business.”
“You know what would be worse?” Morgan asked, jabbing a finger into the other man’s chest. “Imagine dealing with me on a mission to make your life hell because my brother got hurt.”
There were more threats, promises, and dire warnings, but Kinsey didn’t hear them because Griff turned and locked his focus back on her again. His eyes were the same violet-tinged blue color as the wild blueberries that grew on bushes in the backyard at Meemaw’s place, and looking away wasn’t an option even if she’d wanted to.
“Fuck me,” he said in that low, rough voice of his that made her want to purr as he got up, rubbing his jaw and shaking his head. Then his gaze landed on her face again before dropping down to her hands clasped together in front of her, and his expression went from fierce to granite. “Shit. You’re a fuckin’ disaster.”
His proclamation stopped her cold.
A disaster?
They’d just met, and he had already declared her a disaster?
After being the youngest person in Caldwell County to graduate high school, she was going to be a disaster?
After putting in the work to get a full academic ride to the University of Virginia and graduating at the top of her class while pulling overnight shifts to cover room and board, she was going to be a disaster?
After getting her master’s in pharmaceuticals and drug delivery systems and then going straight into earning her PhD in pharmaceutical sciences while carrying a teaching course load and helping Meemaw take care of Kinsey’s brother and sister, she was going to be a disaster?
Her?
Nope.
Not even in a month of Sundays was she gonna be that, but that didn’t mean his words didn’t hit like a linebacker on college football Saturday. After everything that Morgan had said about her big brother, Kinsey had pictured someone who wouldn’t be like the others. Who wouldn’t take one look at her, clock the blond hair, her age, her gender, and the fact that she was a woman who believed that lipstick and mascara really could make her day better, and then place her on the not-to-be-taken-seriously shelf.
Still, if there was one thing Kinsey had learned from her meemaw, killing them with kindness still meant they’d end up dead.
Kinsey batted her fake eyelashes and curled her lips into her best sugar-I’m-gonna-poison-your-sweet-tea smile. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”
People just loved to underestimate her. Let them. She was about to go all Southern Fried Elle Woods on Harbor City. Griff Beckett was about to find out how not a disaster she could be.
