“Wait, I actually have days off? Color me shocked—”

I nearly yelp when he tweaks my earlobe with his finger. “Tuesdays and Thursdays, starting next week, brat.” His thumb smooths over my lobe before drifting away. “Now, will you be quiet and let me speak?”

I’m assuming it’s a rhetorical question and bite my lip as I angle my head back so I can glare at him properly. His expression is part aggrieved, part reluctantly amused. But it quickly turns black.

“Your personal life is your own,” he bites out. “But North is off limits.”

Of all the . . . I’m not remotely interested in North, and I know North isn’t interested in me either. Apparently Macon is clueless. And I have no intention of enlightening the jerk. I suck in a breath, hold it, and let it out slowly. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. I don’t need the aggravation of my staff members avoiding each other when the sex goes stale. And believe me, it will.”

I want to laugh. I want to slap his face. As it is, my breathing comes on quick and fast. “Which means North is really only off limits while I work for you. Good to know.”

A streak of red spreads across the tops of Macon’s cheeks, and I swear the man growls. It rumbles in that wide chest of his as his mouth tightens. “He’s not for you, Delilah. Unless, of course, you’re into having Sam’s leftovers.”

As if I’ve been slapped, my breath hitches. Oh, that was low. Not only to me but to North as well. My face feels tight and hot. And for an instant, something that looks like guilt flickers in Macon’s brown eyes, but it’s quickly smothered by stubborn self-righteousness and a pugnacious lift of his chin.

“Well then,” I manage, “I guess that leaves you out of the running too.”

The second I say the words, I want them back. Horror whips through me, cold and bright. Why did I say that? Why? Why?

And, God, the smug grin that creeps across his firm lips. His lids lower a fraction, that smile growing—the picture of a self-satisfied male. “Nice to know you were considering me, Tot.”

With that, he turns on his good heel and gracefully limps back into the house.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE

Macon

“I’m in trouble.”

North glances my way. We’re in the media room of my house, looking over sword-fighting footage from last season’s Dark Castle. In a week or so, my wrist and ribs will be healed enough that I’ll be able to take up modified training again, but until then, I’m staying fresh by watching and discussing moves with North.