Chapter 24
KNOX
It’s funny how quickly you can get used to being a liar. And I’m shocked at how quickly I’ve adapted to knowing I am one. Lies usually rub right up against my moral code. But when it comes to Maren, all bets are off.
Did I have a flutter of guilt, telling my men I was headed home for a good night’s sleep in my own bed? Sure. Because Havoc and Vandal had looked at me with concern. Like I might need the down time. They’d told me to sleep well, that they’d cover anything I needed so I can sleep in.
And sure, there was a second wave when Ridge offered to ride with me to make sure I was protected on the way home, and I told him I wanted the space.
I had to head off in the wrong direction and do a huge loop about town because he watched me pull out of the gate and would have been confused and concerned once he saw me go in the opposite direction to the one I should be heading.
But as I lock my bike up in the boathouse in almost darkness, I’m not sorry. Because despite telling myself to not get attached to Maren, I’ve been thinking about her most of the day.
I pull all the groceries I bought on the way here from the saddle bags on the bike. It might have been easier to bring everything in my truck, but that would have been a darn sight harder to hide around the back of the store.
With my supplies in hand, I walk over to the stairs up to the small apartment.
When Maren first said we should meet here, I had contradicting feelings.
It’s crass, but I want this to be something we just get out of our system, and I want it to be secret.
But when Maren treated it the same way and told me we couldn’t meet in the apartment above the store, the one with proper windows, it felt… wrong. Cheap, maybe. I don’t know.
And somehow, this place, with its abject practicality and lack of charm, is still…ours.
I knock on the door at the top of the stairs.
“It’s open,” Maren calls out.
I push the door wide. “You shouldn’t be leaving doors unlocked with everything going on.”
She points to the small unit connected to the exterior cameras. “I knew it was you, but I appreciate the concern.”
I put the bags by the sink. “Come here and say hello properly.”
Maren surprises me by jumping into my arms when she gets to me, and I hold her tightly to me as our lips meet. She tastes like something cherry as she cups either side of my head and throws herself into the kiss with the same enthusiasm she jumped into my arms.
And a happy Maren is a damn nice thing to come home…to walk into.
“Did you have a good day?” she asks finally.
“Better now,” I admit.
“What’s in the bags?” she asks as I slip my hands beneath the hem of her sundress and stroke my palms over her ass.
“You said you wanted it to feel like a date. And seeing I can’t ask if you want to join me for drinks at a bar, I brought the fixings for those whiskey sours I mentioned.”
“Yum,” she says, wiggling down. “Can I help make them?”
“This is supposed to be something nice for you. Sit and talk to me and look pretty while I get busy.”
She straightens her sundress. “You like it?”
I check out the way the hem dances over her thighs. A momentary vision fills my head. One of me bending her over the small table, pushing that dress up over her ass, and I could—
“I love it.” I force myself to stop thinking about how good it would feel to be inches deep in her.
She smiles as she sits on the chair, and I put a jar of olives and some little picks to get them out with on the table.
“Thank you.” She takes the jar and attempts to open it. Her sweet face rumples up in frown lines as she tries.
“Give it to me.” She’s too slow, or too persistent, can’t decide which, so I take it from her and crack it on the first try.
She covers her eyes with her hand. “No. God. I don’t want to be that couple where she can’t even pop a jar of olives. If you weren’t here, I’d just get a knife or fork and shove the prongs of it beneath the lid to pop it.”
At some point, I should probably take myself down to the boathouse and give myself a little smack about the head for not even flinching at the word couple.
But instead, everything just…eases.
“Maybe that’s one of the perks you should get used to. I can undo tight jars, reach shit on tall shelves, and I’m real fucking handy with a hammer.”
Maren grins. “You should put that on your dating profile. It would be better than pictures of you fishing and cleaning your motorcycle.”
I begin to pull things out of the bags. A bottle of good quality bourbon. The freshest lemons I could find. Sugar. And because I’m committed to a good sour, eggs.
“What do you know about dating profiles?”
She shudders as she pokes a stick into an olive. “Honestly, more than I want to. The dating pool here is slim. It’s not much better wider afield. I’ve been on a dating hiatus.”
That piques my interest. “How long of a hiatus?”
She shrugs as she fiddles the pit of the olive out of her mouth, and I pop a plate in front of her to put it on. “Longer than I want to admit to you.”
Because she looks a little shy about the admission, I walk to where she’s seated, tip her chin, and kiss her tenderly. She tastes of olives. And maybe that’s how tonight is going to go. I’m gonna experience all the flavors Maren can taste like.
“Kinda like that you’ve been waiting for me,” I admit.
She takes a breath. “Yeah. Maybe.”
From the next bag, I pull out the good whiskey glasses that come in a blue box that’s lined with some kind of silky material.
“Oh, fancy,” Maren says.
“North, my VP, got them for me for my fortieth birthday. They’re crystal. The real deal. Make a ting sound when you flick them and everything. Never used ‘em.”
Maren reaches for the box, and I hand it to her. She takes one out and flicks her fingernail against the crystal. The sharp ting echoes around the room. “Huh. Who knew crystal did that?”
I shrug. “That’s how you tell it’s crystal and not glass, apparently. North told me when I unwrapped it.”
“And how does North know these things?”
I laugh before I can answer. “You sure you want to know?”
“Of course, I do, now you’ve said that.”
“He was fucking a sales assistant at one of those fancy stores in Miami. She gave him a staff discount and a blow job within the same thirty minutes.”
Maren puts her hands over her face and laughs. “I shouldn’t find it funny, but it’s the way you said it. Would he really have left me to those guys?”
“Club’s got some separating of you and your father to do. But, no, I don’t think he would have.” I smile and start making the drinks by cutting the lemons in half. “It’s our life. You know, live hard, play hard. Take what you want when you want it. Stand for what you believe in.”
The sigh Maren blows out is wistful. “Somewhere along the way, I lost that. But it sounds…freeing.”
“Nothing stopping you changing right this minute, sweetheart. You got a good business, solid foundation. You don’t have to know every answer or every decision you want to make.
You just gotta decide that the next ten minutes are gonna be different from the last ten.
Keep doing that on repeat and then, you’ve lived a whole day different, a whole week, a whole month. ”
Maren stabs another olive, then stands and comes over to me before offering it to my mouth. I grab it off the end of the stick with my teeth. “Thank you.”
“You brought eggs? That’s commitment. Where did you learn how to make this?”
I raise a brow. “Don’t question my process. My mom loves ‘em, and I love my mom, so I learned how to make them for her. I mean, she taught me what to do.”
“So, you’re a momma’s boy?”
I huff at that as I start to juice the lemons with my little wooden handheld juicer. “Aren’t most men?”
Maren wraps a loop of hair around her fingers, and I can’t help but notice how pretty her hands are. Long fingers with short nails painted in a pale blue that matches the Magnolia Bait and Marine polo shirts she usually wears.
With a half-juiced lemon in my hand, I lean over and kiss her slowly. There’s something…special…about not having to run things. Of actually wanting the person you’re having sex with to hang around with you. Can’t remember the last club girl I said more than a few words to.
“You sure know how to kiss a girl, Knox,” she says softly.
“Thank you. I got some other moves I’d like to show you later.”
She bats my shoulder. “Just when I thought you could be sweet.”
I finish making our drinks. Maren feeds me olives. I steal a kiss and the occasional grope because I’m only human.
“Alright,” I say, handing her the glass. “Moment of truth.”
Maren grins as she takes the crystal tumbler. “I’m sure it’s going to be delicious.”
I clink my glass to hers. “Cheers. Now, drink.”
“Cheers,” she says, and takes a sip.
There’s a pause. One long enough for me to sip and know I nailed the recipe.
“Okay,” she admits. “That’s actually really good.”
“Did you honestly think it wasn’t going to be?”
She points to the egg white. “I was trying to convince myself this bit wouldn’t be gross, like an undercooked meringue. But it’s not.”
She licks her lips and then takes another sip, closing her eyes as she savors it. “Mmm. Definitely delicious.”
I take a sip of my own drink. “I’m taking the compliment.”
“Don’t get too used to them,” she says.
I shake my head, but I’m smiling into my glass. “I won’t.”
And somewhere between the first drink and the second, it really does start to feel like we’re on our very own private date.
Maren puts on some music, and on a ridiculous whim, I take her hand and we dance in silly circles, and sometimes I spin her out and catch her.
“This is exactly what I had in mind,” Maren says as I hold her close.
“What is?”
“This. You. Me. Dancing. Making whiskey sours. Learning things about one another.”
I kiss her softly. “It’s all a ploy to get you into bed later.”
Maren hooks her hands around my neck. “I certainly hope so.”
I wrap my arms around her a little more tightly. While I’m not ready to admit it to myself, let alone say it out loud, there is something bone-deep satisfying about being here with her.
There are no servers or fancy tablecloths. None of it is upscale, apart from those damn glasses North got on discount. But it feels…real.
By drink four, we end up sitting on the floor, our backs resting on the foot of the bed. I brought snacks. Not a full meal, which was probably foolish given the volume of alcohol we’re drinking. Crackers. Cheeses. Sliced meats. More olives. And chips.
They lay open around us.
Before I overthink, I reach for Maren’s hand and rub my thumb over her smooth skin. My hand is more tanned and gnarly than hers. The ink old. Some of it was the real cheap shit that has bled a little over time.
“I’m glad I came over to see you tonight,” I admit. Even though I lied to my men, it’s not enough to make me regret my choices.
Maren turns to face me. “I’m glad you did too.”
I tug her over to me and situate her such that she’s sitting astraddle my thighs. Not because we’re gonna have sex…we have all night for that. But just because I want to be closer to her.
She places her palms on my chest, and smiles. “Do you ever get to relax like this?”
I shake my head. “Not really. Maybe the times I’m at home. But even then, I take calls and have to deal with texts and shit.”
I cup the back of her neck and tug her to me. I’ve realized Maren likes the gesture, especially if I squeeze a little. “Gimme those lips of yours.”
Her hand comes up to my jaw as she kisses me. It’s slow and measured, like she knows we have all night too, and doesn’t need to rush a thing.
Heat builds, slowly and steadily, and, yeah, my cock gets hard because I’m easily distracted by her lips. But then, Maren pulls away.
“You’ve been unexpected, Knox,” she says.
I huff at that. “Careful, Maren. You’re gonna make me forget we’re only supposed to be banging this out of our system.”
Fuck, she has a pretty smile.
“I didn’t realize that was an option,” she says.
This time, I kiss her. And I feel her smile against my lips.
Like she already knows I’m a liar.