Things We Never Got Over (Knockemout, #1)

by Lucy Score

“That’s not how everyone solves problems,” I told Waylay sternly. “I don’t know. It’s awful satisfying punching someone in the face,” my niece mused. “You ever try it?” “Physical violence is never the answer,” I insisted.

“Vin’s fallin’ asleep on the sofa five nights out of seven every week for the past ten years. In my book, you snooze, you lose. You must be Not Tina,” the server said. “Heard you and Knox got into screaming matches at the cafe and Honky Tonk, and then he apologized, but you broke a chair over his head, and he needed six stitches.” I was rendered speechless. Waylay, on the other hand, erupted into peals of laughter. This town certainly loved its gossip. With rumors like that, it was no wonder I hadn’t heard anything from the caseworker yet. They were probably working on a warrant for my arrest. “This here’s Naomi and her niece, Waylay,” Liza said, making the introductions. “And I didn’t break a chair over anyone’s head, no matter how much they deserved it. I’m a very responsible adult,” I told Neecey, in hopes that she’d pass that rumor along. “Huh. Bummer,” she said.

“Knox?” I repeated, certain I’d heard her wrong. “Big guy? Tattoos? Pissed off at the world?” “He hasn’t shown interest, Liza. He’s shown disdain, disgust, and malice.” He’d also shared an aggressive announcement that his body found my body attractive, but the rest of him found the rest of me revolting. She hooted. “I bet you’re the one.” “The one what?” “The one who’s gonna have him reconsidering this whole bachelor deal. Bet money you’re the first girl he dates from this town in twenty-plus years. And by dates, I mean—” I held the menu up over my face. “I understand what you mean, but you’re very, very wrong.”

The man’s boots were older than Waylay. He lived on his grandmother’s property in a cabin. I thought of Warner and his family, who definitely did not have $11 million, but acted as if they were the crustiest of the upper crust. “But he’s just so…grumpy.” Liza smirked. “Guess it just goes to show money can’t buy happiness.”

His gaze met mine, and for a second, it felt like the glass wasn’t there. It felt like I was being dragged into his gravity against my will. It felt like it was just the two of us sharing some kind of secret. I knew what I’d be thinking about and hating myself for when I laid down in bed tonight.

She was driving me fucking nuts. “See? That right there,” Jer said, pointing a finger in my face. “Pouting. What’s going on with you, man?” “Nothing.” I noticed my brother’s department vehicle parked at the cottage. “Fuck.” “There a reason you don’t like seeing your brother’s car parked at Not Tina’s?” “Is it the bisexual part of you that wants to talk about fucking feelings all the time?” I asked. “Or is it the ‘I come from a big, Lebanese family that knows everything about everybody’ part that I can blame?” “Why not both?” he said with a quick grin. A particularly loud burst of laughter caught our attention, as did the scent of grilled meat. Waylon’s nose twitched. The white tip of his tail froze in the air. “No,” I said sternly.

Sloane, the pretty librarian, was there with her niece, Chloe, who was wading knee-deep in the creek with Waylay and my grandmother’s dogs. Liza J was sitting next to Tallulah while Justice manned the grill and my pain in the ass brother flirted with Naomi. She looked like summer.

“You’re welcome to join us,” Naomi said through a smile that was more gritted teeth than invitation. Her message was clear. She didn’t want me here at her cozy little dinner party. Well, I didn’t want her in my head every time I closed my fucking eyes. So I considered the score equal. “If you insist,” Jeremiah said, shooting me a triumphant look. “Nice flowers,” I said. There was a blue vase overflowing with wild blooms in the center of the table. “Nash brought them,” Naomi said. I wanted to smack the smug look of satisfaction right off my brother’s face. So he brought a girl flowers, and I could barely get her to say two words to me. He should know better than to challenge me like that. I played dirty. Even when I didn’t care about winning. I just wanted Nash to lose.

“Did your parents live with you?” Waylay asked. It was an innocent question coming from a kid who knew what it was like to not live with her parents. I swallowed and looked for an escape. “We lived with our parents until our mom passed,” Nash told her. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” That came from Naomi, and this time she was looking right fucking at me. I nodded stiffly. “Naomi, did you pick up Waylay’s school laptop yet?” Sloane asked. “My sister said Chloe’s was a little buggy.” “Yeah, every time I open the internet, it restarts. How am I supposed to watch age-appropriate videos on YouTube with no internet?” Chloe chimed in. “Or, I don’t know, do school work?” Sloane teased. “I could probably take a look at it,” Waylay offered. Chloe’s brown eyes widened. “You’re a STEM girl?” “What’s that?” Waylay asked with suspicion. “Science Technology Engineering Math,” Sloane filled in. “Yeah. Nerd stuff,” Chloe added. Sloane elbowed her niece.

“Ow! I don’t mean nerd like bad. Nerds are good. Nerds are cool. Nerds are the ones who grow up to run companies and make bazillions of dollars,” Chloe said. She looked at Waylay. “Nerds are definitely good.” The tops of Waylay’s ears turned pink. “My mom always said nerds were losers,” she said quietly. She shot Naomi a look. “She said girls who liked dresses and doing their hair were…uh, bad.” I had the sudden urge to hunt down Tina and drop-kick her ass into the creek for not being the kind of mother her kid needed. “Your mom got a lot of things mixed up, kiddo,” Naomi said, running her hand over Waylay’s hair. “She didn’t understand that people could be more than one thing or like more than one thing. You can wear dresses and makeup and build rockets. You can dress in suits and play baseball. You can be a millionaire and work in your pajamas.” “Your mom doesn’t like dresses and hair?” Chloe scoffed. “She’s missing out. I had two wardrobe changes for my birthday last year, and I got a bow and arrow. You be you. Don’t let someone who doesn’t like fashion tell you anything.” “Listen to Chloe, who’s about to lose a hot dog off her plate— Get down, Waylon,” Liza said. My dog froze, mid-sneak. “We can still see you even if you’re not movin’, dumbass,” I reminded him. Waylay giggled.

Waylay pocketed the bills and sat down to get to work. This time, Naomi locked eyes with me. She didn’t smile, didn’t say “thank you” or “get me naked tonight.” But there was still something there. Something I itched to unlock simmering in those hazel eyes. And then it was gone. “Excuse me,” she said, pushing back from the table. “I’ll be right back.” Nash watched her walk away, that bright yellow material sliding over tanned thighs.

“Thought money was tight,” I said when she tilted her head to look up at me. “Oh, bite me, Viking.” “Just sayin’, Daisy, your first night on the job, you gave me a sob story of losing your savings and supporting your niece. Now it looks like you’re feeding half the county.” “It’s a potluck, Knox. By the way, you’re the only one who didn’t bring anything to share. Besides, I wasn’t doing it to socialize.” I liked the way she said my name when she was exasperated. Hell, I just liked my name on those lips. “All right then. Why are you hosting half of Knockemout for a potluck?” “If I tell you do you promise to do us both a favor and go away?” “Absolutely,” I lied. She bit her lip and peered over my shoulder. “Fine. It’s because of Chloe.” “You’re throwing a dinner party for an eleven-year-old?” She rolled her eyes. “No! That adorable chatterbox is the most popular girl in Waylay’s grade. They have the same teacher this year. I was just trying to give them a chance to spend some time together.” “You’re matchmaking sixth-graders?” Naomi’s jaw jutted out and she crossed her arms over her chest. I didn’t mind because it pressed her breasts up higher against the neckline of her dress. “You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to walk through town and be judged by people just because of who you’re related to,” she hissed. I took a step closer to her. “You’re dead wrong about that.” “Okay. Fine. Whatever. I want Waylay to go to school with actual friends, not just rumors that she’s Tin...

“Then along comes Knox Morgan. Who doesn’t want me around because, despite my defective personality of being uppity and needy, you still managed to be attracted to my body.” “Look, Daisy. It’s nothing personal.” “Except it is deeply personal.” “Put a lot of thought into being pissed off about this, haven’t you?” Maybe I wasn’t the only one losing sleep. “Go screw yourself, Knox!” The brisk knock at the front door made Naomi jump. Wine sloshed over the rim of her glass. “Am I interrupting?” The woman on the other side of the screen door was a few inches shy of Naomi and wore a rumpled gray suit. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun. “Ummm,” Naomi managed as she tried to blot at the wine on her chest with her hands. “Uhhh.” “I’m Yolanda Suarez. With Child Protective Services.” Ah. Fuck me. Naomi went rigor-mortis stiff next to me. I snatched the box of tissues off the top of the desk and handed it to Naomi. “Here,” I said. When she just stared at the visitor without moving, I yanked a few tissues out and started to blot up the disaster. It took about two dabs into her cleavage before she snapped out of it and slapped my hands away. “Um! Welcome. This isn’t my wine,” Naomi said, eyes wide. The visitor’s gaze slid to the now-empty glass Naomi was holding. “I mean it is. I don’t know why I said that. But I’m not drinking a lot of it. I’m responsible. And I hardly ever yell at men in my living room.” “Okaaaaaay. Is Chief Morgan here? He asked me to stop by,” Yolanda aske...

“Liza J said you needed a ride. I’m your ride.” I shook my head. “Oh, no. I’m not doing this with you today.” “Not playing games, Daisy. Get your ass in the truck.” “As charming as that invitation is, Viking, I’m taking Waylay back-to-school shopping. You don’t strike me as a ‘spend the day shopping with the girls’ kind of neighbor.”

“Can’t now. She needs it.” He leaned around me and called into the house. “Waylay, get a move on! Bus is leaving.” I heard the thunder of feet upstairs as my niece forgot to play it cool. I put a hand to his chest and pushed him back until we were both standing on the porch. “Listen, this trip is important. I’m trying to bond with Waylay, and she’s never been back-to-school shopping before. So if you’re going to do anything to ruin it, I’d rather take a Lyft to the mall. In fact, that’s what I’m going to do.” He looked downright amused. “And how are you going to do that with a piece of shit phone that’s too old to download apps?” Damn it. Waylay vaulted into the living room, landing with both feet before rearranging her expression into a look of boredom. “Hey,” she said to Knox. “Knox is going to drive us,” I explained with zero enthusiasm. “Cool. How much stuff are you planning to buy if you need a whole entire pickup truck?” Waylay wondered.

“What are you doing?” “Are you shopping with us?” Waylay asked. She didn’t sound horrified—she sounded excited. Damn you, Knox Morgan. “Got some things on my own shopping list. Figured you ladies could show me the ropes.” We entered the air-conditioned mall, and with a cursory glance in my direction, Waylay made a beeline for an accessories store. As soon as she disappeared into the store, I grabbed Knox’s tattooed arm. “What. Are. You. Doing?” “Shopping.”

“You don’t shop. You don’t go to malls.” He rolled back on his heels, looking amused. “That a fact?” “You’re the kind of guy who wears his clothes until they disintegrate, and then you either start wearing something some female relative got you for Christmas or you order the same exact thing you wore out online. You do not go to malls. You do not shop with girls.” Knox moved into my space. Those eyes, more gray than blue today, went serious. “You got a problem with me tagging along?” “Yes! What are you doing here, Knox? I’m trying to bond with Waylay. Everything else I’ve tried so far hasn’t put a crack in those walls. She’s got a poker face at age eleven because of the amount of disappointment she’s already faced. I want to see her smile. A real smile.” “Jesus, Naomi. I’m not here to fuck that up.” “Then why are you here?” Waylay knocked on her side of the store window and held up two pairs of earrings to her unpierced lobes. I gave her a thumbs-up and mentally added “Pierce Waylay’s ears” to the list. “I got my reasons. Just like I got my reasons for not telling you.” “That’s not an acceptable answer.” We were almost touching now, and my body was getting confused between the cold air conditioning and the heat pumping off his spectacular body. “Only answer you’re getting for now.” “This is why you’re single,” I pointed out. “No woman in her right mind would put up with that.” “I’m single because I wanna be,” he countered. I was mid eye-roll when he decided to change the s...

I headed toward the store, then stopped short to admire the window display. A wall of hot, hard chest crashed into me. “Problem?” Knox asked. His beard tickled my ear. I turned around to face him and gritted my teeth. “You’re not going to leave us alone today, are you?” “Nope,” he said, walking me backwards into the store with a hand spread across my stomach.

I was squirming against him until he leaned down. “If this is what it takes to get out of this fucking store without passing out from a goddamn hard-on, I’m buying you the fucking underwear.” By my count, this was the second time he’d mentioned his man parts having a reaction to me. I wasn’t a big enough liar to pretend I wasn’t happy that he found himself in the same predicament as me: Turned on by the physical, turned off by everything else. I stopped squirming when he pulled me in front of him. With my back flush to his front, I could feel the irrefutable evidence of his claim. My body reacted entirely without my brain’s input and went into five-alarm arousal. I worried that I was going to need to be carried out of the store. “That was incredibly inappropriate,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest as we left the store, his arm still around me. “You wanted me to buy something. I bought something.” “Underwear. For me,” I screeched.

“Knox!” I poked him in the shoulder to get his attention. When he looked down at me, he wasn’t smiling and he didn’t look smug. “You needed a phone. I got you one. Don’t make this into a thing.” “You call me needy. You yell at me for working at your bar and tell me the only part of me worth spending time with is my body. Then you show up on my shopping trip uninvited and buy me underwear and a really expensive phone.” “That about sums it up, minus the only part of you worth spending time with.” “Are you always this…this inconsistent? This confusing?” He stopped walking and looked down at me. “No, Naomi. I’m not always this fucking inconsistent. And I blame you. I don’t want to be into you. I don’t want to spend an entire day wandering around a goddamn mall and fighting traffic for you. I sure as hell don’t want to watch you try on underwear. But I also don’t want you home alone when there’s some guy back in Knockemout looking for you.” Uh-oh. “Some guy? Who is it?”

“Knox?” “Christ, woman,” he said, rounding on me. “Now what?” “Nothing. Just… Thank you for everything today. It meant the world to Waylay. And me.” When I turned to leave, his hand shot out and caught my wrist. “Future reference, Daze. My problem is always you.” I don’t know why I did what I did next, but I did it. I raised on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He was still standing there when Stef and I walked inside with a dozen shopping bags between us.

“Why are you whispering?” “Because he lives right there,” I said, pointing my glass in the direction of Knox’s cabin. “Oooh. Grumpy next-door neighbor. That’s one of my favorite tropes.” “The first time he met me, he called me trash.” “That bitch.” “Well, technically he thought I was Tina when he was yelling at me in front of an entire cafe full of strangers.” “That vision-impaired bitch.” “God, I love you.” I sighed. “Back at you, Witty. So, to clarify, you’re definitely not sleeping with the hot, grumpy, tattooed neighbor who took you shopping for underwear and a phone?” “I am five thousand percent definitely not sleeping with Knox. And he only went shopping with us because there were reports of a man in town looking for me.” “You’re telling me he’s a grumpy, overprotective hottie next-door and you’re not going to sleep with him? How wasteful.” “How about instead of talking about Knox, I’ll tell you why I burned rubber out of the church parking lot and ended up homeless in Knockemout?” “Don’t forget carless,” he added. I rolled my eyes. “And carless.” “I’ll get the truffles I hid in your bedroom,” Stef volunteered. “I really wish you were straight,” I said.

“Why are you bringing me coffee at an inhuman hour?” “To talk about Naomi, of course. I assumed you were quicker than this.” “I am when my sleep isn’t interrupted.” So maybe it hadn’t been the sleep I was pissed off about. Maybe it was the dream involving Naomi’s cherry-painted lips that had just been getting warmed up when this asshole decided to be social. “My apologies. I figured this talk couldn’t wait,” he said, pulling out a stool at the counter. I crumpled up the towel and threw it in the sink. “Is this the part where you tell me to back off your girl?” Stef laughed.

I kept my face neutral, not willing to show any interest in this new topic. “Warner used her. And I tried to warn her. Hell, I even warned him. But Naomi did what she’s always done.” “Cleaned up everyone else’s messes,” I said. Stef raised an eyebrow. “Well, well, well. Look who’s been paying attention.” Waylon let out a hearty burp from the floor. He sat staring at his now empty dish as if expecting it to magically refill.

“What kind of creative problem is this Warner asshole having right now?” Stef took a long sip of coffee. “Right now I’m letting the humiliation of being left at the altar by the woman he told his friends was ‘beneath his class’ do its work. But if he comes near her again, I’ll ruin him.” “What did he do?” I asked. He blew out a breath and took a sip of his own coffee. “I didn’t know specifics until last night and I’ve been sworn to secrecy.” “Bad?” Stef’s jaw clenched. “Bad,” he agreed.

“Money’s tight for her. She spent most of her own savings on the wedding.” Fucking romantics. Never even considering that things could and would go horribly wrong. “She’s prickly about taking loans or handouts. Though she might have no choice once her parents catch wind of the situation.” “They blow into town pissed off at Evil Twin and then try to take care of down-on-her-luck Good Twin,” I guessed. He tossed me a salute. “That about sums it up.” I blew out a sigh. “She’s got no car, no computer. She’s picked up some bar shifts from me.”

Single moms were the world’s unsung fucking heroes.

I stared at him a beat. “Who the fuck are you?” “Me?” Stef laughed, stowing his phone back in his pocket. “I’m the best friend. Naomi is family.” “And you two never…” He sat there smugly and waited for me to say it. “Never what?” “Never…dated?” “Not unless you count taking her to senior prom because Tina got caught with her mouth on Naomi’s date’s dick in the locker room at school.” Fucking Tina.

I handed it over. Stef held it up to my scowling face to unlock it. “Huh. Wonder if it would unlock if you were smiling.” “I don’t know. Never tried.” He smirked. “I like you, Knox. You sure you’re not interested in our girl?” “Definitely not,” I lied. Stef studied me. “Hmm. You’re either dumber than you look or you’re a better liar than I thought.” “Are you done? I’d like to get back to not having you in my house.”

EIGHTEEN MAKEOVERS FOR EVERYONE Naomi “Surprise!” Stef said as he pulled into a parking space directly in front of Whiskey Clipper. Uh-oh. “What are we doing here?” I asked. “Back-to-school hair,” Stef said. “Seriously?” Waylay asked, biting her lip. She couldn’t quite pull off the bored pre-teen vibe, and I knew it was going to be a good idea, even if it meant braving a run-in with Knox. “Deadly, darling,” Stef said, hopping out from behind the wheel of his spiffy little Porsche SUV. He opened the back door for her. “First day of school is a fresh start for everyone. And from the reviews, this is the place for hair.” I climbed out and joined them on the sidewalk. Stef slung an arm around both of us. “First hair. Then lunch. Then nails. Then fashion show for first-day outfits.” I grinned. “Outfits?” “You’re walking Way to the bus. You need something that says ‘responsible yet hot aunt.’” Waylay giggled. “Most moms just show up in pajamas or in sweaty workout stuff.” “Exactly. We need to make a statement that the Witt women are fierce and fashionable.” I rolled my eyes. Stef caught me and crossed his arms in impatience. “What have I always told you, Naomi? And you listen to this too, Way.” “When you look good, you feel good,” I recited. “Good girl. Now get your cute little asses in there.”

“Shut your stupid beautiful face, Witty. This is on me.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth to argue. “I didn’t get you a wedding present.” “Why not?” He looked at me dryly for a long beat. “Right. Of course you predicted it.”

“Your hair is yours. You get to decide what to do with it,” I assured her. “You get to decide how you show up in this world. No one else gets to dictate to you who you are,” Stef said. I knew he was saying it for Waylay’s benefit, but the truth resonated deep down inside me too. I’d lost myself while trying to convince someone else that I was what he wanted. I’d forgotten who I was because I’d let someone else take over the definition. “Okay,” Waylay said. “But if I hate it, I’m going to blame you guys.” “Let’s do this,” I said with conviction. “There she is,” Stef said, booping my nose and then Waylay’s. “Now, let’s get started.” He made a beeline for Jeremiah. “Your friend is weird,” Waylay whispered. “I know.” “I kinda like him.” “Yeah. Me too.”

“Hey, boss,” Stasia called out. My bubble of bliss popped. The responding grunt had my heart trying to flutter its way out of my chest like an anxiety-ridden butterfly trapped in a glass jar. “Stay,” Jeremiah said firmly, pressing a hand to my shoulder. I couldn’t see Knox. But I could feel his presence. “Knox,” Stef drawled. “Stef.” I opened my eyes, wondering when the two of them had gotten on a grudging first-name basis. “Hey, Way,” Knox said, his voice a little softer. “Hi,” she chirped. I heard the approach of his boots, and every muscle in my body went rigid. No woman looked good with wet hair in a salon chair. Not that I was going for alluring or anything. Although I was wearing the underwear he’d bought me. “Naomi,” he rasped. What was it about my name from that mouth that made my nether regions feel like they were being electrocuted? In a super sexy, fun way. “Knox,” I managed to choke out. “Your face is red,” Jeremiah noted. “Is the water too hot?” Stef snickered. I swear to God I could hear a smugness in the steady clomp of boots as they slowly retreated to the back of the shop. Way to be cool, me.

Waylay was silent for a moment, and I craned my neck for a glimpse of her in the mirror. “I didn’t cut it,” she said, eyes meeting mine. “What’s that, sweetheart?” Stasia asked. “I didn’t cut it,” Waylay said again. “My mom did. As a punishment. Couldn’t ground me ’cause she was never around. So she chopped off my hair.” “That fucking b—ouch!” I kicked Stef then spun my chair around. Waylay shrugged at the suddenly silent adults around her. “It wasn’t a big deal.” That was what she’d told herself. I remembered the tidy bins of hair accessories in her old bedroom. Tina had taken something from her, something she’d taken pride in. Stef and Stasia looked to me, and I searched for the right words to make this okay.

Knox dropped the razor on a metal tray with a clang and crossed to Waylay’s chair. “You get that that was a dick move, right?” “Knox, language,” I hissed. He ignored me. “What your mom did was born out of a place of unhappiness and meanness inside her. It had nothing to do with you. You didn’t cause it or deserve it. She was just being an asshole, yeah?” Waylay’s eyes narrowed as if she were waiting for the punchline. “Yeah?” she said tentatively. He nodded briskly. “Good. I don’t know why your mom does the things she does. I don’t really want to know. Something’s broke inside her, and that makes her treat others like shit. Got it?” Waylay nodded again. “Your Aunt Naomi over there isn’t like that. She’s not broken. She’ll probably still fuck up now and then, but that’s cause she’s human, not broken. Which is why when you mess up—and you will cause you’re human too—there has to be a consequence. It won’t be cutting your hair or not making you dinner. It’ll be boring shit like chores and grounding and no TV. Got it?” “I got it,” she said quietly. “From here on out, if anyone says they have a right to decide what to do with your body, kid, you kick ’em in the ass, then come find me,” Knox told her. Well, hell. The man’s hotness had just escalated into underwear melting territory. “And me,” Stef agreed. Jeremiah gave her a level look. “Me too.” Waylay’s lips quirked and she was having a hard time keeping her smile under wraps. I, on the other hand, suddenly felt a little damp ...

Stef: Told you your sister was a gigantic waste of DNA. I sighed and tossed him a glare, then typed. Me: I’m first in line for face punching when she turns up. Stef: Good girl. Also, I added a bikini wax to your mani-pedi. Me: Mean! Why? Stef: Growly Tattoo Guy deserves to get laid after that speech. Also, Jer is fifty shades of gorgeous. “Agree on both counts,” Jeremiah said from where he was reading over my shoulder. Stef laughed while I turned six shades of scarlet. “What are you agreeing to?” Knox demanded.

“Self-care maintenance,” he said. “I beg your pardon?” “Some women get manicures. Some get massages or go for therapy. Some hit the gym or their favorite bottle of Shiraz. But the best self-care maintenance, in my opinion, is regular, earth-shattering orgasms.” This time I felt even the tips of my ears go pink. “I just ran away from a groom and a wedding. I think my tank is topped off for a while,” I whispered. Jeremiah deftly worked his way through my hair with the barrel of the iron. “Suit yourself. But don’t you dare waste this style.” With a flourish, he whipped the cape from me and pointed at my reflection. “Holy sh—crap.” I leaned in, shoving my fingers into the touchable chin-length bob. My dark brown hair now had russet highlights and curled in what I liked to call “sex waves.” Stef let out a wolf whistle. “Damn, Nomi.”

Instead, Knox’s scowl melted and was replaced with the kind of grin that made me feel as warm and gooey inside as a chocolate chip cookie fresh from the oven. Note to self: Make chocolate chip cookies. The two men shook hands and exchanged back slaps that would have put me in a chiropractor’s office. “What the hell are you doing here?” Knox asked, less aggressively this time. “Currently losing to Winona and thinking about ordering another drink.” “I’ll get it. Anyone else want another round?” I squeaked. Knox’s gaze fell on me. His grin vanished so quickly I wondered if he’d sprained a facial muscle. He took a leisurely, scowly tour of my appearance from hair to feet, disapproval snapping off him like electricity. “Naomi, outside. Now,” he growled. “Seriously? What’s your problem this time, Viking?” “There a problem?” Grim asked, his voice low and dangerous. “None of your concern.” Knox’s voice had dropped into sub-zero temperatures. “Go ahead and bring everyone a round, Naomi,” Ian suggested, his eyes on Knox. I nodded and headed for the door.

He leaned in until we were almost touching. “Naomi, these aren’t just weekend warriors on bikes or your typical Beltway roadkill. They can be dangerous if they want to be.” “Yeah? Well, so can I. And if you try to take me off that table, you’re going to find out exactly how dangerous.” “Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s not happening,” I scoffed. He closed his eyes, and I knew the big dummy was counting to ten. I let him get to six before stepping around him. My hand had just closed around the doorknob when he caught me, trapping me between the door and his body. His breath was hot on the back of my neck. I could feel my heart beat in my head. “Daze,” he said. Goose bumps prickled on my arms. Warner’s only pet name for me had been “babe.” And for a moment, I was paralyzed with a desire so intense I didn’t recognize it as my own. “What?” I whispered. “They’re not your kind of people. If that dickhead Tanner gets too much over-priced scotch in him, he starts hittin’ on anything with a rack and losing hands. That skirt you’re barely wearing is already a distraction. He loses too much, he starts talkin’ shit and startin’ fights. Grim? He runs his own motorcycle club in D.C. Mostly personal protection now, but he still dabbles in less legal ventures. Trouble follows him.”

“I’ve had no problems at that table. And I’m willing to bet if it were Fi or Silver or Max on that party, you wouldn’t be having this conversation.” “They know how to handle trouble.” “And I don’t?” “Baby, you showed up in town in a fucking wedding dress with flowers in your hair. You scream into pillows when you get stressed out.” “That doesn’t mean I can’t handle myself!” He put a hand on the door behind me and leaned into the last bit of my space. “You need a goddamn keeper.” “I’m not some helpless damsel in distress, Knox.” “Really? Where would you be if it wasn’t me who found you in the cafe? Staying in Tina’s shithole trailer with Way? No job. No car. No phone.”

“You’re not kissing me,” I insisted. In hindsight, the warning was a tad presumptuous since he’d never kissed me before. But to be fair, he really looked like he wanted to kiss me. “I’d rather wring your pretty little neck right now,” he said, eyes narrowing on my mouth. I licked my lips, preparing to definitely not kiss him. The low rumble in his chest vibrated through my body as he dipped his head toward mine. A new vibration interrupted us. “Fuck,” he hissed, yanking his phone out of his pocket. “What?” He listened, then let out a string of colorful curses. “Don’t let him past the bar. I’ll be out in a second.” “What’s wrong?” I asked. “See? That right there is your problem,” he said, pointing a finger in my face as he yanked the door open. “What?” “You’re suddenly too worried about me to watch your own ass while you’re serving a table of criminals.” “Has anyone ever told you you’re ridiculously dramatic?” I asked as he hauled me out. He was texting with his free hand. “No one who didn’t have a death wish. Let’s go, Daze. This time I’ll let you make my problem yours.”

My brother grinned and shoved me out of the way. He welcomed Lucian with a hard hug and a slap on the back. “Good to have you back, brother.” “It’s good to be back,” Lucian agreed, returning the hug. “Especially since the waitstaff got even more interesting.” He gave Naomi a wink. Why the fuck the entire town suddenly decided winking at Naomi was a good idea was beyond me, and I was going to put a stop to it as soon as possible. “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s great,” I said. “Don’t you have drinks to serve?” Naomi rolled her eyes. “I didn’t get rid of your brother yet.”

“I believe this is a bigger straight than yours, Lucian,” she said. The table erupted in cheers. “You just won $22,000,” Winona told her. “Holy shit! Holy shit!” Naomi looked up at me, and the joy on her face was a sucker punch to my windpipe. “Congratulations. Now get your ass up,” I said, still capable of being an ass. Lucian groaned. “Suckered in by those innocent eyes. Every damn time.”

“Naomi. Now,” I said, hooking my thumb toward the door. “Hold your horses, Viking.” She carefully counted out equal shares of the chips and started returning them to their original owners. Grim shook his head and covered her hand with his tattooed one. “You won fair and square. You’re keeping the winnings and you can have my stake.” “Oh, but I couldn’t,” she began. “I insist. And when I insist, people do what I tell them.”

Naomi didn’t see a scary biker sort-of-criminal making that proclamation. She saw a cuddly, tattooed fairy godfather. When she tossed her arms around his neck and gave him a noisy kiss on the cheek, I saw the man actually smile. A feat previously thought to be impossible. “For that reaction, you’ll keep mine as well,” Lucian said. Naomi whooped and rounded the table and kissed him loudly on the cheek. Ian and Winona did the same and laughed through Naomi’s stranglehold hugs. “Get that niece of yours something pretty,” Winona told her. Christ on a cracker, exactly how much of her autobiography had she shared with them? “I’m, uh, just gonna hang on to mine,” Tanner said, pulling back the chips he’d loaned her. The rest of the table glared at him. “Cheap-ass,” Winona said. “Come on. It’s been a rough week,” he whined. “In that case, here’s a tip from me,” Naomi said, handing over a $100 chip. The woman was a sucker. And it looked like Tanner was officially in love. “Ladies, gentlemen, what do you say we call it a night? I hear there’s a band out front tonight. We could steal one or two of Knox’s private bottles and reminisce about the good old days,” Ian suggested. “Only if Lucy promises me a dance,” Winona said. I waited until they’d cashed out and exited the room, leaving Naomi and me alone. She looked up from the pile of cash they’d left in front of her. It was one hell of a tip. “Can we leave the lecture for tomorrow so I can just enjoy?” “Fine,” I said through gritted te...

“Hey, Naomi! Can we add an order of—” Sloane cut off mid-sentence. The petite blonde was staring open-mouthed up at Lucian like she’d just been sucker-punched. I felt Lucian’s entire body go rigid. My heart sank with the realization that I’d somehow betrayed my new friend. “Hey,” I said weakly. “Do you know—” My awkward introduction was unnecessary. “Sloane,” Lucian said. While I shivered at the ice in his tone, Sloane had the opposite reaction. Her expression went mutinous, and an emerald fire snapped in her eyes. “Is there an asshole convention in town I wasn’t aware of?” “Still charming as always,” Lucian snapped back. “Fuck off, Rollins.” With that parting shot, Sloane spun around and marched toward the door. Lucian still hadn’t moved a muscle, but his gaze was glued to her retreating back. His hands, still on my hips, gripped me hard. “You about ready to unhand my waitstaff, Luce?” Knox growled behind me.

The guy was wound tighter than a mummy wrapped in Spanx. “Did Sloane just leave?” Blaze demanded, arriving at my side with Agatha on her heels. “Yeah. I was dancing with Lucian Rollins. She took one look at him and left. Did I do something wrong?”

Blaze blew out a breath. “That’s not good.” Agatha shook her head. “Definitely not good. They hate each other.” “Who could possibly hate Sloane? Isn’t she the nicest person in Northern Virginia?” Agatha shrugged. “There’s some kind of sticky history between those two. They grew up next door to each other. Didn’t run in the same crowds or anything. No one knows what happened, but they can’t stand the sight of each other.” I’d been caught dancing with my new friend/boss’s mortal enemy. Damn it.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Stef said. “I’ve got Way here at Liza’s with all the dogs. We’re fine. You do whatever you need to do.” Knox reached me and grabbed my arms. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” “I have to go,” I said into the phone and disconnected. The front door opened, and I saw two officers in uniform looking grim. My breath hitched. “Knox,” I whispered. “Right here, baby. What happened?” His eyes were bluer in this light, searingly blue and serious as he held on to me. I shook my head. “It’s not me. It’s you.” “What’s me?” With a shaking finger, I pointed at the officers making their way to us. “Knox, we need to talk,” the taller one said.

He flinched away from me. “Don’t,” he said harshly. I said nothing but stood my ground. I felt like I could breathe in his anger like it was oxygen. “Don’t,” he said again. “I won’t.” “If you touch me right now…” He shook his head. “I’m not in control, Naomi.” “Just tell me what you need.” His laugh was dry and bitter. “What I need is to find the motherfucking bastard who did this to my brother. What I need is to rewind the clock so I didn’t waste the last however many years over some stupid fucking fight. What I need is for my brother to wake the fuck up.” His breath hitched, and I had no control over my own body. Because one second I was standing in front of him and the next I was wrapping my arms around his waist, holding on and trying to absorb his pain. His body was tight and vibrating as if he was seconds away from coming apart. “Stop,” he said on a broken whisper. “Please.” But I didn’t. I held on tighter, pressing my face to his chest. He swore under his breath, and then his arms were around me, crushing me to him. He buried his face in my hair and clung to me. He was so warm, so solid, so alive. I held on to him for dear life and willed him to release some of what he’d kept bottled up. “Why don’t you ever fucking listen?” he grumbled, lips moving against my hair. “Because sometimes people don’t know how to ask for what they really need. You needed a hug.”