“WHAT ARE your intentions toward Marigold?”
“Flint!” I hissed as I ran over to her and clamped her mouth. I grimaced at Knox. “I’m so sorry. Flint doesn’t have a filter in her mouth, so she says everything that comes to mind like a newborn baby that doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut when it’s needed.”
“Wow, ouch,” Flint mumbled the words because of my palm pressing her lips hard.
Knox was surprised at first, before, finally, amusement fills his eyes and he looks laidback once more. He trudged over to the dining table and sat down. “It’s okay. It’s cute.”
Flint scrunched her eyebrows and threw words of protest at Knox, who was also muffled by me. But then she suddenly licked my hand, making me yell and let go of her.
“I’m not cute,” spits Flint almost immediately. “I’m far from
