Things We Never Got Over (Knockemout, #1)

by Lucy Score

The front door opened, and I turned, expecting to see Tina. But the man who stormed inside was definitely not my sister. He looked to be in more dire need of caffeine than I was. Hot would be a decent way to describe him. Hot as hell would be even more accurate. He was tall enough that I could wear my highest pair of heels and still have to tilt my head up to make out with him—my official categorization of male height. His hair was in the dirty blond range and was cut short on the sides and swept back on top, which suggested he had good taste and reasonable grooming skills. Both of those criteria landed high on my List of Reasons to be Attracted to a Man. The beard was a brand-new addition to the list. I’d never kissed a man with a beard and I had a sudden, irrational interest in experiencing that at some point. Then I got to his eyes. They were a cool blue-gray that made me think of gun metal and glaciers.

I took that to mean it was coffee time. Side-stepping him, I picked up the cup, took a delicate sniff, and then shoved my face into the steaming hot life force. I drank deeply, willing the caffeine to perform its miracles as flavors exploded on my tongue. I was pretty sure the inappropriate moan I heard came from my own mouth but I was too tired to care. When I finally lowered the cup and swiped the back of my hand over my mouth, the Viking was still standing there, staring at me. Turning my back on him, I flashed my hero Justice a smile and slid my emergency coffee twenty dollar bill across the counter. “You, sir, are an artist. What do I owe you for the best latte I’ve ever had in my life?” “Considering the morning you’re having, darlin’, it’s on the house,” he said, handing my license and cash back to me. “You, my friend, are a true gentleman. Unlike some others.” I cast a glare over my shoulder to where the Viking was standing, legs braced, arms crossed. Taking another dive into my drink, I tucked the twenty into the tip jar. “Thank you for being nice to me on the worst day of my life.” “Thought that day was yesterday,” the scowling behemoth butted in. My sigh was weary as I slowly turned to face him. “That was before I met you. So I can officially say that as bad as yesterday was, today beat it out by a slim margin.” Once again, I turned back to Justice. “I’m sorry this jerk scared away all your customers. But I’ll be back for another one of these real soon.” “Looking...

“They’re twins, man,” Justice said, the smile evident in his voice. “Fuck me.” The Viking shoved a hand through his hair. “I worry about your friend’s vision,” I said to Justice, pointing at the mug shot of Tina. Tina had gone bleach blonde at some point in the past decade-plus, making our otherwise subtle differences even more obvious. “I left my contacts at home,” he said. “Next to your manners?” I quipped. The caffeine was hitting my bloodstream, making me unusually feisty. He didn’t respond with anything other than a heated glare. I sighed. “Get out of my way, Leif Erikson.” “The name is Knox. And why are you here?” What the hell kind of name was that? Was it a hard Knox life? Did he tell a lot of Knox Knox jokes? Was it short for something? Knoxwell? Knoxathan? “That’s none of your business, Knox. Nothing I do or don’t do is your business. In fact, my existence is none of your business. Now, kindly get out of my way.”

But since I’d already stuck my nose into the situation, called her trash, and yelled at her, the least I could do was bring the situation to a fast conclusion. Then I was heading back to bed. “No. I’m not fucking kidding you,” I stated. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” “You don’t have a car,” I pointed out.

She took a long hit of coffee while looking up and down the street like she was debating escape. “Don’t even think about it,” I told her. “You’d spill your coffee.” When those pretty hazel eyes went wide, I knew I’d hit the mark. “Fine. But only because this is the best latte I’ve had in my entire life. And is that your idea of an apology? Because just like the way you ask people if something’s wrong, it sucks.” “It was an explanation. Take it or leave it.” I didn’t waste time doing things that didn’t matter. Like making small talk or apologizing.

“What is wrong with you?” Naomi demanded, jogging to catch up. She reached for her cup, but I held it just out of reach and kept walking. “If you don’t want to end up hog-tied over the back of Wraith’s bike, then I suggest you get in my truck.” The disheveled flower child muttered some uncomplimentary sounding things about my personality and anatomy. “Look. If you can stop bein’ a pain in my ass for five whole minutes, I’ll take you to the station. You can get your damn car, and then you can get out of my life.” “Has anyone ever told you you have the personality of a pissed-off porcupine?” I ignored her and kept walking.

Naomi’s nostrils flared delicately. She brought my coffee to her mouth, drank it down in a few determined gulps, then tossed the empty cup into the waste basket by the desk. “Thank you for your help. If you see a blue Volvo with a Nice Matters bumper sticker, please let me know.” Christ. “Don’t suppose you’ve got one of those apps on your phone that’ll tell you where your car is, do ya?” Grave asked. She reached for her pocket, then stopped and squeezed her eyes shut for a beat. “I did.” “But you don’t no more?” “I don’t have a phone. Mine, uh, broke last night.”

“Yep,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “How old is she?” “Eleven.” Nodding, I shoved the pillow at him and marched back into the room. “So, Waylay,” I began. There was a family resemblance in the upturned nose, the dimple in the chin. She had the same colt-like legs her mother and I had at that age. “So, Aunt Naomi.” “Did your mom say when she’d be back?” “Nope.” “Where do you and your mom live, honey?” I asked. Maybe Tina was there now, going through her haul, figuring out what was worth keeping and what she wanted to ruin just for the fun of it. “Over in Hillside Acres,” she answered, looking around me to get a better view of the tornado tossing up cows on the screen. “Need a minute,” Knox announced and nodded toward the door.

“The hell do you want?” My sister’s voice always managed to make me cringe inwardly. “An explanation for starters,” I snapped. “Where are you?” “Where are you?” she mimicked me in a high-pitched Muppet voice that I’d always hated. I heard a prolonged exhale. “Are you smoking in my car?” “Looks like it’s my car now.” “You know what? Forget the car. We have bigger things to discuss. You have a daughter! A daughter you abandoned in a motel room.” “Got shit to do. Can’t have a kid holding me back for the next while. Got something big in the works. Why ya think I named her Waylay? Figured she could hang out with her Aunt Goody Two-Shoes till I get back.” I was so mad I could only sputter. Knox snatched the phone from my ear. “You listen and you listen good, Tina. You’ve got exactly thirty minutes to get back here, or I’m callin’ the damn cops.” I watched as his face got harder, his jaw tighter, showing off little hollows under his cheekbones. His eyes went so cold I shivered. “As always, you’re a real fuckin’ idiot,” he said. “Just remember, next time you get picked up by the cops, you’ll have warrants. That means your stupid ass will be sittin’ behind bars, and I don’t see anyone rushin’ to bail you out.” He paused for a moment and then said, “Yeah. Fuck you too.” He swore again and lowered his phone.

“You’re not necessary for this part,” Nash told him. Knox bared his teeth. “You want me to leave, gonna have to make me.” “I’m sorry. He’s been like this all morning,” I explained to Nash. “Honey, he’s been like this his entire life,” the chief countered. It didn’t hit me until they turned identical glares on each other. “You’re brothers, aren’t you?” “No shit,” Knox grumbled. “Sure are,” Nash said, turning his full wattage grin on me. “I’m the good one.” “Just do your fucking job,” Knox said. “Oh, now you want me to do my job. You can see how I’d be confused since—” “Gentlemen,” I cut in. This was going nowhere fast. I didn’t have the energy to diffuse the tension between the brothers, and we had more important concerns. “I don’t mean to overstep. But can we get to the part about my sister?” I suggested.

* * * “You’re saying I can just take possession of a human being?” I clarified a few minutes later. I really needed more coffee. My cognitive abilities were fading fast. “Well, I wouldn’t advise on referring to it as ‘taking possession.’ But in Virginia, kinship care is a way for kids to stay with a family member as guardian when they can’t be with their own parents.” I might have been imagining it, but I thought I saw a guarded look pass between the brothers. “So I would become Waylay’s guardian?” Things were moving so fast. One second, I was getting ready to walk down the aisle. The next, I was suddenly in charge of deciding the future of an eleven-year-old stranger. Nash swept a hand through his thick hair. “Temporarily. You’re obviously a stable, healthy adult.” “What happens if I don’t?” I hedged. “Juvenile and Domestic Relations will place Waylay in a foster home. If you’ve got no problems staying in town for a few weeks while we figure things out, the law’s got no issue with Waylay staying with you. If things work out, you can even make it permanent.” “Okay.” I nervously wiped my hands on the back of my shorts. “What things are we going to be figuring out?” I asked. “Mainly what your sister is up to and what that means for guardianship.” “I’m in big trouble. I need money, Naomi.” I bit my lip. “She called me last night. Said she needed help and wanted me to bring cash. Do you think she’s in actual danger?” “How about this? You focus on Waylay and let me worry about ...

Suddenly too tired to function, I collapsed against the trailer’s aluminum siding. “Look, Knox. My bones are tired. I’ve been up for a million hours straight. I’m in a strange place in a stranger situation. And there’s a little girl in there who needs someone. Unfortunately for her, that someone is me. You made up for the asshole routine with the chauffeur routine. You can just stop with the macho inconvenienced thing. I didn’t ask you for help. So you’re free to go. I need to start cleaning this mess up.” Literally and figuratively. “About done?” he asked. I was too tired to be infuriated. “Yeah. About.” “Good. Then get your ass in the truck. You’re not staying here.” “Are you serious right now?” “You two aren’t staying in a motel with cardboard doors or a health violation of a trailer that’s been broken into. Besides…” He paused his tirade to rip the eviction notice off the door. “This place ain’t Tina’s anymore. Legally you can’t crash here. Morally I can’t let you try. Got it?” It was the longest speech he’d made in my presence, and I honestly didn’t have the energy for a reply. But he wasn’t looking for one. “So you’re going to get your ass in the truck.” “And then what, Knox?” I pushed away from the trailer and threw my hands up. “What’s next? Do you know? Because I haven’t got a clue, and that scares the hell out of me.” “I know a place you can stay. Safer than the motel. Cleaner than this fuckin’ mess.” “Knox, I’ve got no wallet. No checkbook. No phone or laptop. A...

* * * It was a quiet ride, and apparently if I wasn’t making conversation or fighting with Knox, I didn’t have the energy to remain conscious. I woke abruptly when the truck jostled. We were on a dirt road that snaked its way through woods. The trees created a canopy above us. I had no idea if I’d just dozed off or if we’d been driving for an hour. Remembering my predicament, I whipped around and relaxed when I saw Waylay in the back seat, sitting next to the white, fluffy mound that was my wedding dress. Turning back to Knox, I yawned. “Great. You’re taking us out to the middle of nowhere to murder us, aren’t you?” Waylay snickered behind me. Knox stayed stubbornly silent as we bumped along the dirt drive. “Whoa.” Waylay’s exclamation had me focusing on the view through the windshield. A wide creek meandered alongside the road before curling back into the woods. Just ahead, the trees thinned, and I spotted the “whoa.” It was a large log home with a wide front porch that wrapped around one side of the first floor. Knox continued down the drive past the house. “Bummer,” Waylay muttered under her breath when we drove on. Around the next bend, I spied a small cabin with dark siding tucked into a copse of trees. “That’s my place,” Knox said. “And that’s yours.” Just beyond it was a storybook-looking cottage. Pine trees towered over it, offering shade from the summer sun. Its white board-and-batten exterior was charming. The small front porch with cheery blue planks, inviting. ...

“Wait! Take off your shoes,” I told her, not wanting to track any dirt inside. Waylay glanced down at her filthy sneakers. There was a hole in the toe of the left one and a pink heart charm clipped to the laces of the right. With an extravagant eye roll, she toed them off and carried them upstairs. Knox’s mouth pulled up in the corner as we watched her go, pretending she wasn’t the least bit excited or curious. “Damn it, Viking!” The idea of spending a few weeks in a postcard-perfect cottage far away from the mess I’d left behind was intoxicating. I could organize the hell out of the shambles of my life while I sat on the back porch and watched the creek flow by. If I could afford it. “Now what’s your problem?” he asked, stepping into the doll-house-sized kitchen and staring out the window over the sink. “You mean, ‘What’s wrong, Naomi?’ Well, I’ll tell you Knox. Now Waylay’s excited about this place, and I don’t even know if I can afford it. She’s going to be disappointed on top of abandoned. What if we end up back at the motel tonight?” “You’re not goin’ back to the motel.” “What’s the rent?” I asked, biting my lip. He turned away from the view and leaned against the counter, looking annoyed. “Dunno.” “You have a key to this place and you don’t know?” “Rent depends,” Knox said, reaching out to sweep a layer of dust off the top of the old marshmallow white fridge. “On what?” He shook his head. “On who.” “Fine. Who?” “Liza J. Your new landlord.” My new landlord? “And does ...

“Dinner,” he said. “Huh?” was my erudite reply. I knew he wasn’t trying to ask me out. Not after we’d spent an entire morning hating each other. “Seven. At the big house down the road. That’s Liza J’s. She’ll want to meet you.” “If she doesn’t know she’s my landlord, she’s certainly not expecting us for dinner,” I pointed out. “Dinner. Seven. She’ll be expecting you by then.” I was not comfortable with this kind of invitation. “What am I supposed to bring? Where’s the closest store? Does she like wine?” Hostess gifts were not just respectful—in this case, they would set the tone of a good first impression. His lips quirked as if my angst amused him. “Go take a nap, Naomi. Then go to dinner at Liza J’s.” He turned and headed for the door.

“Knox!” He stopped again and swore. “Christ, Naomi. Tell her her mom left her with you, and you’re looking forward to getting to know her. Don’t make it more complicated than it has to be.” “What if she asks when Tina’s coming back? What if she doesn’t want to stay with me? Oh, God. How do I make her listen to me?” He stepped back up onto the porch and into my space, then did something I never saw coming. He grinned. Full-on, panty-melting, 100-percent-wattage grinned. I felt woozy and hot and like I didn’t know how any of my joints worked anymore. “Wow,” I whispered.

“Wow what?” he asked. “Uh… You smiled. And it was just seriously wow. I had no idea you could look like that. I mean, you already look like…” I waved my hand awkwardly in front of him. “You know. But then you add the smile, and you look almost human.” His smile was gone, and the familiar annoyance was back. “Jesus, Daisy. Get some sleep. You’re babbling like an idiot.” I didn’t wait to watch him drive away. Instead I went back inside and closed the door. “Now what the hell am I going to do?”

Warner. Grr. Tina. Ugh. Car. Damn it. Waylay. Holy crap. Cottage. Adorable. Knox. Grumpy, sexy, horrible, yet helpful. The timeline of the last twenty-four hours intact, I pried myself off the mattress and sat up.

“Coffee,” I croaked at her. “Man, you look like a zombie.” “Zombie needs coffee.” “Soda in the fridge.” Soda would have to do. I stumbled my way to the refrigerator and opened it. I was halfway through the can of Pepsi before I realized there was food inside.

“Why are your arms and knees all scraped up?” I glanced down at the abrasions on my skin. “I climbed out of a church basement window.” “Cool. So, we’re going into town?” “Yes. I just need to take a kitchen inventory,” I decided, finding my trusty notebook and pen. Coffee. Food. Transportation? Job? New purpose in life? “We can take the bikes,” Waylay piped up. “Bikes?” I repeated. “Yeah. Liza J dropped them off. Said we have to come to dinner tonight too.” “You met our landlord?” I squeaked. “Who else stopped by? The mayor? Exactly how long have I been asleep?” Her eyes went wide and serious. “Aunt Naomi, you’ve been asleep for two whole days.” “What?” She smirked. “Just messin’ with you. You were out for an hour.” “Hilarious. Just for that, I’m buying brussels sprouts and carrots.” She wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

SIX ASPARAGUS AND A SHOWDOWN Naomi At this minute, I was supposed to be jet-lagged and wandering the streets of Paris on my honeymoon. Instead I was clinging to the handlebars of an ancient ten-speed bike, trying not to tip over. It had been years since my ass had met a bike seat. Every bump and rut on the gravel road jarred both my teeth and my lady parts. The one and only time I’d talked Warner into trying one of those tandem bikes at the beach, we’d ended up head first in a shrub outside the kite store. Warner had not been pleased. There were a lot of things that hadn’t pleased Warner Dennison III. Things I should have paid more attention to. The thicket of woods passed in a buzzing blur as we rode through swirls of gnats and the thick southern humidity. Beads of sweat trickled down my spine. “Are you comin’ or what?” Waylay called from what seemed like a mile ahead. She was riding a rusty boy’s bike with her arms dangling at her sides. “What’s your middle name?” I yelled back. “Regina.” “Waylay Regina Witt, you put both hands on your handlebars this instant!” “Oh, come on. You’re not one of those fun hatin’ aunts, are you?” I pedaled harder until I caught up. “I am lots of fun,” I huffed, partially because I was offended but mostly because I was out of breath. Sure, maybe I wasn’t a ride-with-no-hands or a sneak-out-of-a-sleepover-to-go-kiss-boys fun, or a call-in-sick-to-go-to-a-concert fun kind of gal, but I didn’t hate fun. There was usually just too much that neede...

“Guess you can’t buy too many brussels sprouts since we’re on bikes,” Waylay observed smugly. “Guess again, smarty-pants,” I said, pointing at the sign in the window. Home Delivery Available. “Aww, man,” she groaned. “Now we can get a truckload of vegetables,” I said cheerily.

“You’re not shittin’ me? You’re not Tina?” “I am not shitting you.” Damn it. I should have gone for the coffee first. “Aunt Naomi, I found the Pop-Tarts,” Waylay said, appearing with an armload of sugary breakfast treats. “Great,” I said.

“She’s already got the wedding dress,” Waylay said. He laughed and flashed the gold band on his left hand. “It devastates me to say I’m already spoken for.” “The good ones always are.” I sighed. Waylay’s fingers furtively moved closer to the plate. “My favorite is the chocolate chocolate chip,” Justice said, pointing at the biggest cookie on the plate. With a wink, he was gone. She waited until he was behind the counter before snatching the cookie off the plate. “Mmmm. So good,” I mumbled, my mouth full of cookie goodness. She rolled her eyes. “You’re so weird.” “Shut up and eat your cookie.” Her eyes narrowed, and I grinned. “Kidding. So, what’s your favorite color?”

I raised the beer to my mouth. “Saw her first,” I reminded Nash. The flash of anger I saw in his eyes was gratifying. “Oh, fuck you, man. You pissed her off first.”

“Don’t have to. You know how to stop it.” “She hates your guts. You don’t even like her,” he pointed out. I used the hem of my t-shirt to stem the flow of blood from my nose. “Not the point.” Nash narrowed his eyes. “The point is you always wanna call the shots. Some brother.” “You’re the idiot who doesn’t know how to say ‘thank you,’” I shot back. He shook his head, looking like he was going to back down. But I knew better. I knew him better. We both wanted this. “Get out of my way, Knox.” “You’re not gettin’ past me today.” “I’d be happy to run you down with my truck. Say you were drunk and passed out in the middle of the lane and I didn’t see you.”

“You just want to put your hands on something fine and mess it up, don’t you?” Nash asked. “You can’t take care of a woman like that. She’s got class. She’s smart.” “She’s needy as fuck. Right up your alley,” I shot back. “Then get out of my way.” Tired of the conversation, I threw a jab to his jaw. He returned it with a shot to my ribs. I don’t know how long we traded blows in the middle of the dirt lane, kicking up dust and hurling insults at each other. Somewhere in the midst of him calling me a fucking asshole and me putting him in a headlock so I could punch him in the forehead, I recognized my brother for the first time in a long-ass time. “What in the holy hell are you doing? You can’t assault an officer of the law!” Naomi floated into my line of sight, looking exactly like the high-class woman I didn’t want, exactly the type my brother did. Her hair was down now and daisy-free, draped over one shoulder, thick and sleek. Her eyes had lost the better part of the exhausted shadows. She was wearing one of those long sundresses that skimmed the tops of her feet and made men wonder what treasures lay beneath. She was carrying a bouquet of flowers, and for a second, I wanted to know who the hell had given them to her so I could kick their ass. Next to her was Waylay in shorts and a pink t-shirt, holding a plate covered in plastic wrap. She was grinning at us. Nash used the distraction to throw an elbow to my gut. The wind went out of me, and I bent to catch my breath. “Fa...

“Well, hello,” Naomi crooned, crouching down to pet him. “His name’s Waylon,” Nash told her. “Waylon and Waylay,” she mused. “That won’t get confusing.” My nose burned. My face fucking hurt. My knuckles were bleeding. But looking at her petting my needy-ass dog with an arm full of flowers made everything else start to fade away. Fuck me. I knew what attraction felt like. Knew what to do with it too. But not with a woman like this. One who didn’t know it was smart to be afraid of me. One with a wedding dress and no ring. One with an eleven-year-old. This was the kind of situation that had me heading for the hills. But I couldn’t stop looking at her. “You’re an idiot.” Nash grinned, then winced. “And you,” Naomi turned on him. “I can’t imagine you take that badge very seriously if you’re fighting in the street with your own brother.”

“Did you find my car?” she asked Nash. “Did you find my mom?” Waylay asked. “Maybe we should talk in private,” he suggested. “Knox, be a good neighbor and take Waylay up to the house while I have a few words with Naomi.” “No way,” Waylay said, crossing her arms. “Fuck no,” I agreed. Our staredown lasted until Naomi rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with. Please tell me what you found.”

“Guess I’ll just get right to it,” Nash said. “I didn’t find your car yet. But I did find something interesting when I ran the plates. It was reported stolen.” “No, shit, Sherlock. Naomi did that this morning,” I reminded him. Nash ignored me and continued. “It was reported stolen yesterday by one Warner Dennison III of Long Island, New York.” Naomi looked like she wanted the earth to swallow her up. “You stole a car?” Waylay asked her aunt, looking impressed. I had to admit that I hadn’t seen that one coming either. “It’s my car, but my ex-fiancé bought it. His name was on the title with mine.” She looked like the kind of woman a man would buy cars for, I decided. “Don’t you mean ex-husband?” Waylay piped up. “Ex-fiancé,” Naomi corrected. “We’re no longer together. And we didn’t get married.” “‘Cause she left him at the altar,” the girl added knowledgeably. “Yesterday.” “Waylay, I told you that in confidence,” Naomi hissed. Her cheeks turned a bright shade of scarlet. “You’re the one being interrogated for grand theft auto.” “No one is being interrogated,” Nash insisted. “I’ll talk to the office in charge and clear up any misunderstanding.” “Thank you,” Naomi said. Her eyes were filling with what looked suspiciously like tears. Fuck. “I don’t know about you all, but I could sure use a drink. Let’s head up to the big house and solve this over alcohol,” I suggested. I didn’t imagine the flicker of relief that flashed over her pretty face.

“Quit your hollerin’,” a voice came from the direction of the kitchen. “What’s the matter with you? Your mama raise you in a barn?” “No, but our grandma did,” Nash called back. Elizabeth Jane Persimmon, all five feet one inch of her, clomped out to greet us. She wore her hair cut short around her face as she had for as long as I could remember. Never missed a trim. Her rubber gardening clogs squeaked on the floor. She was in her typical uniform of cargo pants and a blue t-shirt.

“I’ll be right back,” Naomi promised Waylay. “Chief Morgan is in charge.” The kid looked confused. I guessed no one had ever bothered to tell her they were leaving, let alone when they’d be back. Naomi straightened her shoulders and followed my grandmother out of the room, that damn dress floating around her like she was some kind of fairy tale princess about to face a dragon.

“That’s what happens when you got yourself a sister who steals from you and a new mouth to feed,” Liza said, arms crossed. Knox or Nash had a very big mouth. I said nothing and popped the cork free. “Guessin’ you’ll need work too,” she predicted. “Unless you work from home or something.” “I recently left my job,” I said carefully. And my home. My fiancé. And everything else in that life. “How recently?” People in Knockemout were not shy about sticking their noses into other people’s business. “Yesterday.” “Heard my grandson drove you out here with a wedding dress flying like a flag out the window. You a runaway bride?” She set two glasses next to the open bottle and nodded. I poured. “I guess I am.” After a full year of planning. Of choosing everything from the cocktail hour appetizers to the color of the table runner on the charcuterie table, it was all over. Wasted. All that time. All that effort. All that planning. All that money. She picked up a glass and held it aloft. “Good. Heed my words. Don’t ever let a man you don’t like make decisions for you.” It was odd advice coming from a stranger that I was trying to impress. But considering the day I’d had, I raised my glass to hers. “You’ll do okay here. Knockemout will take care of you and that little girl,” she predicted.

“I’m so glad you find humor in my vocabulary. It just makes my day.” “Don’t mind Knox,” Nash cut in. “He’s intimidated by women with brains.” “You want my fist up your nose again?” Knox offered gamely. I kicked him under the table. It was purely on reflex. “Ow! Fuck,” he muttered, leaning down to rub his shin. All eyes came to me, and I realized what I’d done. “Great,” I said, throwing down my fork in mortification. “A few minutes here and there with you, and it’s contagious. Next thing you know, I’ll be putting strangers in headlocks on the street.”

One less thing to worry about. A nice, safe place to stay. “You boys know our Naomi here’s a runaway bride?” “She left some guy standing in a church and stole his car!” Waylay announced with pride. I picked up the bottle of wine and topped off Liza’s glass and then my own. “You know, where I’m from, we mind our own business.” “Better not be expecting that in a place like Knockemout,” Liza advised. “What did he do?” Nash asked. But he wasn’t asking me, he was asking Waylay. She shrugged. “Dunno. She won’t say. But I bet it was something bad. ’Cause that was a real nice dress she ran out in. It would take something pretty damn bad to make me run away instead of showing it off to everyone.”

Knox “The Viking” Morgan strolled off the deck in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. He was all man. Muscles, chest hair, tattoos. He stretched one arm lazily overhead and scratched the back of his neck, creating a picture of sleepy testosterone. It took me a full ten seconds of open-mouthed ogling to realize the man, like his dog, was peeing.

“Wanna see her in action?” Sloane offered. “I want it even more than a visit to your coffee bar.” Sloane’s ruby red lips curved. “Follow me.” I followed Sloane up the open staircase to the second floor, which housed even more book stacks, more seating, more plants, and a few private rooms off to one side. In the back was another long, low desk under a hanging sign that said Community. Waylay sat on a stool behind the desk, frowning at an electronic device. The device’s owner, an elderly Black man in a crisp button-down and trousers, leaned on the counter. “That’s Hinkel McCord. He’s 101 years old and reads two books a week. He keeps messing with the settings on his e-reader,” Sloane explained. “I swear it’s the damn great-grandkids. Those sticky-fingered little punks see an electronic device and they go after it like kids went after sticks and candy in my day,” Hinkel complained. “She started coming in here a couple times a week after she and your sister moved here. One afternoon some virus software update was giving the entire system shit, and Waylay got tired of listening to me yell at the computer. She popped behind the desk and voilà.” Sloane wiggled her fingers in the air.

“Fixed the whole damn thing in less than five minutes. So I asked her if she minded helping out a few other folks. I pay her in snacks and letting her check out double the number of books everyone else is allowed. She’s a great kid.” I suddenly just wanted to sit down and cry. Apparently my face telegraphed just that. “Uh-oh. You okay?” Sloane asked, looking concerned. I nodded, willing away the damp from my eyes. “I’m just so happy,” I managed to choke out. “Oh, boy. How about a nice box of tissues and an espresso?” she suggested, guiding me away from a group of senior citizens settled around a table. “Belinda, I have the latest Kennedy Ryan novel you were asking for.” A woman with a puff of white hair and a large crucifix nearly buried in her impressive cleavage clapped her hands. “Sloane, you are my favorite human being.” “That’s what they all say,” she said with a wink. “Did you say espresso?” I whimpered. Sloane nodded. “We have really good coffee here,” she promised. “Will you marry me?” She grinned, and her nose stud sparkled. “I’m mostly into men these days. There was that one time in college.”

I also hadn’t given my hot, grumpy, urinating neighbor a passing thought. That’s when I lost my focus and walked smack into a solid wall of chest under a black t-shirt. “Pardon me,” I said, slapping a hand to the muscley obstacle to stay upright. “What the fuck are you doing?” Not. Again. “Are you kidding me?” I squeaked, looking up to find Knox scowling at me. “What are you doing here, Naomi?” “I’m checking Santa’s Naughty List. What does it look like I’m doing? I’m working. Now get out of my way, or I’ll hit you with my tray and I’ve had a lot of espresso today. I could get you on the floor in three or four whacks.” He didn’t respond verbally. Probably because he was too busy taking me by the arm and dragging me out into the hallway. He stormed past the restrooms and the kitchen door and opened the next door with a well-placed boot. “Evenin’, Knox,” Fi said, without looking up from her monitors.

“I don’t give a shit if it’s the damn Pope,” he growled. “She’s not working here. I don’t want her around.” Deciding I had nothing to lose, I hit him again with the tray. “Listen, Viking. I don’t know what your problem is with me. Whatever narcissistic delusional roller coaster you’re on, I’m not here to ruin your life. I’m trying to earn back some of the money my sister stole from me, and until the bank unfreezes my account, I’m not letting you or anyone else stand in the way of Waylay’s Pop-Tarts.” “Unless you want to take her tables for her, boss, I’m siding with Naomi,” Sherry said. Knox’s eyes glowed with icy fire. “Fuck. Fine. One shift. You make one mistake. Get one complaint and your ass is gone.” “Your magnanimity won’t be forgotten. I’ve got tables waiting.” “One mistake,” he called after me. I flipped him off over my shoulder and stormed into the hall. “Get rid of her, Fi. I’m not working with some uppity, needy pain in the ass.” His words carried to me outside the door. My cheeks flamed. An uppity, needy pain in the ass. So that’s what the gorgeous, bad-tempered Knox Morgan saw when he looked at me.

“Don’t I know it,” she agreed. “Where’s your section? We’re here to patronize you,” Justice said. Knox rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind him,” Silver said, elbowing the boss out of the way. “He’s just pissy because Nay hasn’t screwed up yet.” I wanted to kiss her for giving me a nickname other than Not Tina. “He gave me one shift and no mistakes,” I explained, not caring that he was standing behind me. “Knox Morgan,” Tallulah chided. “That’s not how we welcome new Knockemouts. Where’s your sense of community?” “Go away, Tally,” Knox grumbled, but there was no heat to it. “Naomi, I’ll have your darkest, strongest beer,” Tallulah said. “And the hubs here will have a piña colada with whipped cream.”

“Don’t do that to her on her first night, Knoxy,” Max chided him. “If she’s so confident she can handle it, no use letting her wade around in the kiddie pool. Gotta throw her in the deep end.” “There’s a difference between sink or swim when you introduce sharks,” Silver argued.

“She’s doing great,” Sherry told him. “Despite some head-butting with management.” Nash glanced my way. “Doesn’t surprise me.” “Hi, Nash,” Naomi chirped as she passed us on her way to the bar. He nodded. “Naomi.” Sherry elbowed me in the gut. “Somebody’s got a crush,” she sang. I grunted. Two somebodies had a crush, and if I had anything to say about it, neither of us was going to get the girl. “Pull up a stool, Chief,” Silver said. Nash took her up on the offer and sat at the corner closest to the server station. “On call or off for the night?” Silver asked. “Officially off.” “Beer it is,” she said with a little salute. “Don’t you have payroll to approve?” Sherry asked innocently as I hovered behind my brother. “Maybe I already did it,” I hedged, watching as Naomi approached Wylie’s table again. “I get an alert when it’s been submitted, smartass.” Tattletale technology. “I’ll get to it. Don’t you have businesses to manage?” “Right now, I’ve got a man to manage. Quit being a dick to Naomi. She’s good. The customers like her. The staff likes her. Your brother likes her. You’re the only one with a problem.” “My place. I get to have a problem if I wanna have a problem.” I sounded like a fucking toddler denied a cookie.

“I cleared up your little grand theft auto misunderstanding.” You would have thought my brother had just whipped out a solid gold 10-inch dick with the way Naomi flew into him and wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you thank you thank you!” she chanted. “No man-handling the customers,” I snarled. She rolled her eyes at me and gave Nash a peck on the cheek that made me want to set my own brother on fire. “Also figured I’d see if you wanted a lift home after your shift,” he offered. Fuck me. She didn’t have a car. She probably rode her goddamn bike here and planned to ride it home after closing. In the dark. Over my dead fucking body. “That is so sweet of you to offer,” Naomi said. “Not necessary,” I said, butting into the conversation. “She’s already got a ride. Sherry’ll take her.” “Sorry, Knox. I’m off in ten,” my business manager said smugly. “Then so’s she.” “I can’t close out my tables and do my side work in ten minutes,” Naomi argued. “Max is showing me how to close in case you don’t fire me after tonight.” “Fine. Then I’m driving you home.” “I’m sure you have better things to do than to drive a needy pain in the ass home.” “Burn,” Fi whispered gleefully. “I’m driving you home. Law and Order lives right upstairs. You’re out of his way. It’d be an inconvenience to him to haul your ass home.” I knew I’d pushed the right button when Naomi’s smile faltered. “I don’t mind,” Nash insisted. But Naomi shook her head. “As much as it pains me to admit, your brother is right. It’ll be...

“And she’s trying to support a kid, Knoxy. Have a heart,” Max pointed out. I swore under my breath. “Walk each other out,” I ordered and then went after Naomi. I found her in the parking lot next to an ancient ten-speed. “You’re not riding that thing home,” I announced, grabbing the handlebars. Naomi let out a long sigh. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to pedal or fight. But I still quit.” “No, you don’t.” Handing her the apron, I hauled the bike over to my truck and put it in the bed. She limped along after me, shoulders slumped. “Jesus, you look like you got trampled by a herd of horses.” “I’m not used to being on my feet for hours at a time. Okay, Mr. Pushes Paper From a Comfy Desk Chair?” I opened the passenger side door and gestured for her to get in. She winced when she climbed up. I waited until she was settled before shutting her door then rounding the hood and sliding behind the wheel. “You’re not quitting,” I said just in case she hadn’t heard me the first time.

“I’m not a complete asshole all the time.” “So just with me then?” Naomi asked. “I feel so lucky.” “Cards on the table?” I didn’t feel like sugarcoating it. “You’re not my type.” “Are you kidding me right now?” she said. “Nope.” “You’re not attracted to me, so that means you can’t even be civil to me?” The back door opened, and we watched Max and Silver exit with the last bag of trash. They marched it to the dumpster together and high-fived after heaving it in. Max waved, and Silver tossed me another salute on their way to their respective cars.

I didn’t say I wasn’t attracted to you. I said you’re not my type.” She groaned. “I’m definitely going to regret this, but I think you’re going to have to break it down for me.” “Well, Daisy. It means my dick doesn’t care that you’re not my type. It’s still standing up, trying to get your attention.” She was quiet for a long beat. “You’re too much work. Come with too many complications. And you wouldn’t be satisfied with just a quick fuck.” “I believe Knox Morgan just said he couldn’t satisfy me. If only I had a phone to immortalize that statement on social media.” “A. You’re getting a new phone immediately. It’s irresponsible to go without one when you have a kid to think about.” “Oh, shut up. It’s been a handful of days. Not months. I didn’t know I was going to have a kid to think about,” she said. “B. I could satisfy the hell out of you,” I plowed on, pulling out of the parking lot. “But you’d just want more, and that doesn’t suit me.” “Because I’m an ‘uppity, needy pain in the ass,’” she said to the darkness out her window. I didn’t have a defense. I was an asshole. Plain and simple. And the sooner she realized that, the farther she’d stay from me. Metaphorically speaking. Naomi let out a weary sigh. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to slap you, jump out of this vehicle, and crawl home,” she said finally. I turned onto the dirt lane that led to home. “You can slap me tomorrow.” “Probably just make you want me more.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.” “You’re just mad because now you have to find a new sp...

“Waylay and I love tomatoes,” I said as my niece mimed vomiting on the floor. “I’ll send you home with a bushel then,” Liza decided.

“’Course, I’m not cooking in here. Not with it looking showroom new,” Liza added. “We’ll go to Dino’s. My treat.” “Their pepperoni is the best,” Waylay said, perking up. “I could eat a whole pepperoni pie myself,” Liza agreed, hitching up her cargo shorts. It was nice to see my niece getting comfortable with an adult, but I would have liked it better if I was the one she was sharing pepperoni preferences with. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was failing a test in a class I’d forgotten to attend all semester.