Chapter 7 Lottie
CHAPTER SEVEN
LOTTIE
Six, seven, eight, nine—
“Morning,” a cheerful voice breaks through my concentration, nearly making me jump out of my seat.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelp, hand flying to my chest, twenty-dollar bills spilling all over the desk.
“Whoa, you good?” Knox asks, brows raised.
“You scared me. What the hell are you doing here, anyway? Are you stalking me or something? Do I need to call the police?”
“Uh, I own part of this store? Plus, I live above it. And it looks to me like I should be the one calling the police. Are you robbing the place or something?” Knox surveys the piles of cash on the desk and the open safe behind Walter’s leather desk chair, where I’m currently seated.
“Wait. You—? What? What the hell are you talking about you living here?” I just finished my first cup of coffee a few minutes ago, but I should’ve guessed after yesterday that today was going to be a two- to three-cup morning.
Knox’s lopsided smile is back. “Did you suffer some sort of major head trauma or something between last night and this morning? Some temporary amnesia I don’t know about?
” His eyes widen in mock seriousness. “I’m Knox,” he puts a hand to his chest, speaking slowly.
“I inherited the apartment above and part of the store, remember?”
I reach for a Post-It block on the desk and throw it at him. He laughs, dodging it just in time.
“It just made financial sense to move in there while I’m in town, know what I mean? I do own it, after all.”
Knox walks over to the coffee maker on the sideboard and picks out a random mug—his father’s, though I’m sure he has no idea. It’s simple—white with a blue handle.
“No fuss, Lottie. Not like yours,” he would say. “There’s no need to express your every thought on cutesy mugs.”
I smile fondly to myself, remembering how much he teased me for mine: a black mug with a gold outline of a cat and the words, “You’re stressing meowt” emblazoned on the front. Watching Walter huff in annoyance every time he saw me drinking from it was part of my morning entertainment.
Knox’s voice brings me back to the present: “Plus, it means I get to see more of you.” He smiles, making my heart jump in my chest.
“You’re such a flirt,” I try to hide my smile behind my mug.
“Yes,” he nods, not a hint of shame in his voice. “But only with you. And I have a feeling I’ll be a bit relentless, so… fair warning.”
I snort and shake my head.
“Is this the only flavor you have?” He asks, going through the K-cups. “And just almond milk; no regular milk?”
Ignoring his questions, I go back to the topic at hand. “The fact that you own the apartment still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
“I just told you,” he says, loading the coffee maker.
“Right but—”
He cuts me off, turning to look at me with his piercing blue eyes.
“Listen, how about we cut to the ‘too long, didn’t read’ version, okay?
I spent the night upstairs because I didn’t want to keep spending money on a shitty motel the next town over that screamed Schitt’s Creek—no offense to the lovely hosts who run it—when I had a perfectly okay-ish apartment I could stay at for free. ”
I blink a few times at him. “But… that’s Walter’s apartment.”
“Was. It’s mine now.” He says it so casually, my jaw drops slightly.
“So, you’re just sleeping in his bed?” I ask, my voice dry.
“My bed, now. And don’t worry. I changed the sheets.” Knox smiles behind his mug before taking a sip. He closes his eyes and hums, the sound of it taking me back to that night.
I shake my head, not letting myself be dragged down to another daydream. “But… why?”
“Why did I change them? Because I didn’t want to sleep in my dead father’s sheets.”
“No—” I sigh, exasperated. “I mean, why did you spend the night there. What’s wrong with your hotel?”
“Did I not just say why? Money? Lumpy mattress? You remember the mattress, don’t you, Pretty Girl?” He smirks, his eyes bright. “Shit, is that why you ran off and didn’t spend the night? The mattress was too lumpy?”
I roll my eyes, a deep blush spreading across my cheeks and neck, and pick up the cash to set it into a neat pile next to the ten dollar bills. “Okay, I’m done with this conversation now. I’m gonna go back to balancing the store safe, thank you very much,” I say curtly.
He takes another sip and walks around to the other side of the desk, pulling the chair out and taking a seat across from me.
I stop counting the twenties for the second time, and sigh. “What are you doing?”
He grins his boyish grin, and I wonder if this guy is ever not happy. “Just sipping my coffee. That a problem?”
I continue to count, ignoring the way he watches my every move— ignoring the way he makes my skin tingle as his eyes roam over me. And absolutely ignoring the memory of every single thing he said last night before leaving Walter’s apartment.
Once I’m done and the cash is locked up in the safe, he asks, “So what’d you do last night, Pretty Girl?”
I groan. “God, can you please stop calling me that? It’s so cringey.”
Knox rolls his eyes. “Okay, Miss Veracruz,” he teases. “What did you do last night? Did you do anything fun? Pick up any other unsuspecting strangers at the local bar?”
“No.” I glare at him, but he just sips his coffee, waiting for an answer.
Well, after having dinner with my brother, his wife, and their two girls, I spent the night in my apartment above the garage coming to the image of your tongue, flat against my clit, me screaming out your name, and pulling on your hair begging for more.
I don’t mention it, obviously, since doing so would probably send some mixed signals.
“I watched a romcom,” I say instead, an involuntary smirk spreading across my face.
“Oh, yeah? Which one?”
Jeez Louise. This man. “I’m going to need more coffee this morning,” I mutter, my annoyance growing.
I get to my feet with my empty mug and walk over to the machine.
But Knox scrambles over to me. “How do you take your coffee?” he asks, gently taking the mug from my hands.
His fingers accidentally graze mine, causing me to nearly drop the mug.
Knox breathes sharply, and I take comfort in knowing he’s at least somewhat affected by my presence.
I’m not the only one acting like a teenager, apparently.
“Almond milk, two spoons of sugar,” I say, a little breathless.
“Teaspoons?”
“Table,” I say, shamelessly.
He clears his throat as he starts my coffee and reaches for the almond milk in the mini-fridge beside the sideboard.
“You like sweet stuff.” It’s not a question, just a statement of fact.
“I—Yes. How did you know?”
He grins, averting his eyes. “That night after the bar. You had several fruity mocktails at dinner. Ordered two different desserts. And every time you had a bite of one of them… It was like you were experiencing it for the first time. Like this visceral thing. A small moan. A faint smile. Sometimes, your eyes would even roll to the back of your head…” He shrugs, his eyes darkening. “I noticed.”
I gnaw on my lip, not knowing what to say.
I’ve always loved sweets, but now? Sugary treats mean something different to me.
I’m not trying to get pregnant anymore, and I’m not planning on letting my body control me ever again.
After years and years of cutting out sugar and alcohol from my diet, enjoying a cookie or a Coke or a goddamn piece of chocolate means more to me than anyone will ever know.
It means more than just having a sweet tooth. It means freedom unlocked.
And he noticed.
“You don’t have to do this for me, you know,” I say, a bit impatient, struggling with the feeling in the pit of my stomach. I just want my goddamn coffee and to get out of here, this office suddenly too small for the both of us. I need to get away.
And yet…
“I want to do this for you, Pretty Gi—” he cuts himself off just in time, laughing softly at my glare. “Lottie. I meant Lottie.”
My lips quirk as I try to suppress a smile.
Damn him.
“You stole my chance at making you morning coffee last time. Just let me do it now.”
Pushing my reading glasses up my nose, I tell him “Knox… You—You have to stop this. It was a one-time thing. And now that we have to deal with this whole bookstore deal? It’s a really bad idea.”
He smiles softly despite his sad eyes. “I know. But will you at least give me this?”
After a moment’s hesitation, I nod once and take my cat mug when he passes it to me.
I try not to focus too much on the tattoos covering his forearms, to not think about the way I traced them with my fingertips when his arms were wrapped around my waist—a camera on his arm, a tattoo to represent each country he’d visited…
The way my touch made his skin break out in goosebumps before rolling me onto my back, feeling his weight pressing me into the mattress.
“Here you go,” he murmurs, his arm flexing.
I half-smile, trying to stay present as I thank him for it, just as Jenn sticks her head in the office. “Lottie, do you—Oh. Hey, Knox.” A wide, wicked grin spreads slowly across her face, her eyes bouncing between us.
God.
I roll my eyes. But Knox is all smiles as he greets her with a cheerful “Morning,” raising his cup in her direction.
“What’s up?” I ask, half annoyed, half relieved for the interruption.
“Adriana’s here to pick up her special order?”
“I guess I’ll balance the safe another time, then,” I mutter under my breath, closing the safe and shuffling quickly to the sideboard cover, pulling out the ten copies of the latest bestseller for her. I follow Jenn out of the office toward the front of the store with Knox close behind me.
“Yay! They came!” Adri jumps up and down in place, dark curls bouncing while clapping her hands together. It’s almost too much for me to take this early in the morning, but it is what it is.
“Yup. Good to go.”
“What is this?” Knox asks, an amused look in his eyes.