Chapter 5
Everly
“Thank youuu…” My tongue flounders, searching for a name I realize I do not know.
The big man grins, and the preposterously adorable dimple from earlier sneaks out to play. “Knox.”
Not run-of-the-mill. I like it. “Thank you, Knox.”
“You’re welcome, Everly.”
My throat gets warm. Dumb dimple.
Sure, he’s cute, but it’s not like he’s a total hottie or anything. Yes, he’s tall, and his brown eyes are flecked with melted caramel. He’s just very…big. In a good way, though. A strong way. He hurled the bulky box onto his wide shoulder as if it were a twenty-pound toddler.
He’s also got a teddy bear vibe going on, a thought that has me tamping down a snicker. Men tend not to be fans of being compared to a cuddly child’s toy. But hey, sometimes the shoe just fits.
He spreads his arms, resting his palms on the counter. “Hey, what’s so funny over there?”
“Not a thing.” I spin to the box and start picking at tape that’s more or less melted to the cardboard. What I should be doing is walking this guy out the door and locking up since he isn’t exactly making tracks for the exit on his own. It’s well past closing time. Rude.
Right. I am sooo angry.
Knox fishes a pocketknife from his jeans and slips the steely point between the tape and cardboard. He repeats the process on the other end and folds back the tattered flaps.
Nosy guy, he peers in first, thumbing a clear container of tarnished red and green balls atop a mound of miscellaneous decorations. “Christmas, huh?” For a fleeting second, his mouth tightens. I may be a grump this year, but I’d be royally disappointed if he turned out to be a real life scrooge.
Disappointed why, exactly?
His feelings on Christmas are none of my business, though, if he chooses to share at some point, I wouldn’t be opposed to listening. “I figured if I have to be here, I might as well decorate.”
I scoot the ornaments aside for a deeper dive into the buried contents.
“Have to be here?” Knox’s richly textured voice is close. Our bent heads touch, jolting me, gracefully, I’m sure, into the wall.
“Oops. Sorry.”
There’s a counter between us, yet he tucks his hands in his pockets and retreats, allowing me plenty of space. I’m not afraid of him or anything, but I suppose things have dialed a bit toward awkward. Just two strangers hanging out after closing time.
Really, the man seems harmless enough. How could he not be with that wild little cowlick sprouting from the back side of his head?
Gluing my attention to the box, I rifle through the contents.
“You want me to open the other one, too? I can.”
I risk a glance. His stubbled face seems eager. “Sure. This place is kind of depressing. I thought maybe sprucing it up might make the weeks go faster.”
He squats down, punctures the packing tape, and drags the blade the full extent of the box. One toe peeps out from the top of his left sock, poor thing. He spreads the flaps.
A spider explodes from the box, scurrying for freedom. I manage to avoid a full-on scream, but a sound bordering on humiliating escapes. The eight-legged monster pauses to stare, like I’m the intruding idiot, then drops to the floor and scampers into oblivion.
“You know, he’s more afraid of you than—”
“Oh, shut up.”
He—Knox—laughs as if I’m the funniest thing ever created.
Continuing to chuckle, he reaches into the pit of danger and removes a short branch. I jump back, effectively cornering myself. One can never be too careful.
He gives the branch an easy shake. A sound similar to sleet hitting earth cascades around us. A slew of green needles shimmy to the floor. “Um, I doubt this thing will lift the mood much, Everly.”
Talk about depressing. I wrap my arms around my middle and sigh. The length of the day, which began predawn, assails me. “You may have a point. Oh, well. I’ll figure something out this weekend. Uncle Charlie warned me he hadn’t dragged the Christmas stuff out in years.”
“Uncle Charlie? You’re his niece?”
Nosy again. “Great niece. You know Charlie?”
Knox lifts one powerful shoulder. “Not really. I’ve been in a few times with the guys over the last month. They told me he had a heart attack.”
I nod. “Last Friday morning.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Okay, I guess. He had bypass surgery. He’s moving to a rehab facility tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry about that, but I’m glad he’s improving.”
“Me too. I have a feeling recovery will be a slow go. He’s not big on taking care of himself.” Kind of like the diner.
Knox’s chin dips in a serious nod. “Well, he’s already on my prayer list.”
Prayer list? The muscles that, yeah, I guess have been bunched in my neck, ease. “Thanks.”
“You’re the family member tasked with saving the day?”
I lean my hip to the counter. “Family businesses are just so awesome, you know?” Scritch-scratch goes my irritation.
Knox bobs his head as if giving my statement full consideration. “Sometimes they’re a pain, but they can be alright.”
“Well, this one is mostly pain. I worked for Uncle Charlie when I was in high school and off and on through college. Everybody else was smart enough to keep their distance.”
He makes a throaty, laugh-like sound. “He did strike me as a bit crotchety.”
“You’re too kind.” We share a smile before I sigh again, ashamed as much as tired. “It’s not that I don’t want to help, and I love him, truly, but trust me, running the dump he’s let this place deteriorate into was not on my agenda this holiday season.”
Knox settles his elbow onto the top of the cash register. “What was on your agenda?”
Huh. I must say this evening has taken an interesting turn. “Well, I—”
My phone sounds off, loudly, from my apron pocket. I hold up my finger. “I have to get this.” Do you? Do you really, Ev?
I half-step away to listen to Oakley explain how a strong front is blowing through and I need to be sure and haul in the trash can when I get home so it won’t roll around the street all night. If I know my sister at all, she drove or walked past the trash can a dozen times today.
Talk about a call voicemail could have fielded.
Truth? I needed to press pause. There’s more to this Knox guy than I presumed at first blush, and honestly, I didn’t presume much except that his lunch crew was particularly obnoxious.
Am I up for a holiday flirtation?
Of course not. Aside from the fact I never learned the art, common sense is my middle name and Chandor is no longer home. A relationship would be impractical. And besides…a construction guy? I’m one of those annoying cerebral types, thinking and reading all the time. I’d bore the man to tears.
I tend to be attracted to bookish types, and, so shoot me, I’ve worked in law offices long enough to be partial to men in nice suits.
Although…this particular guy may have cornered the market on rough and rugged, manly charm. The silk-suited attorneys I surround myself with in my real life may have to step up their game.
My stomach dips, and Oakley’s ramblings further blur my brainwaves.
The cash register still bears some of Knox’s weight. Shoved up sleeves on his thermal work shirt tease corded forearms sprinkled with the exact right amount of dark hair.
Oakley’s goodbye finally registers. Once the lump in my throat settles, I whip up my customer smile. “I really need to get going, Knox.”
In fact, I’m in such a rush that, until five minutes ago, I was planning on setting up a Christmas tree tonight.
His thick eyelashes flicker. Straightening, he taps the counter. “Yep. Same here. Sorry to keep you.”
“Not at all. I appreciate the help.”
“Sure thing.” He takes his coat from the chair and slides his arms inside, adjusting the collar once it’s on him.
“Don’t forget your boots.” Dumb, Everly. It would have taken all of two seconds of wet pavement to remind the man not to leave without his footwear.
Yet, he clicks his tongue and wags his finger as if I make a stellar point.
I quash a silly eyeroll. “Have a nice evening,” But once out, my words ring like a dismissal, as if I didn’t enjoy our time together embarrassingly much and can’t wait to be rid of him. Which I am.
But also kind of not.
He full stops. His deep gaze meets mine with the kind of direct look a man gives a woman when he means more than the words coming out of his mouth. “’Night, Everly.”
Swallowing is a challenge. “Goodnight, Knox.”
He stoops, but the cowlick still manages to swipe the jingle bells over the door.
I thumb through a stack of tickets, pretending not to watch him steady himself with a hand on the glass in the entryway, tugging on one boot, and then the next.
He has one foot out the exterior door when he pivots, poking his head back inside. “Hey, Everly?”
Here’s hoping my casual upward glance covers for my thudding heartbeat. “Yes?”
He smiles, but with purpose. “Lock up, alright?”
The irritation that sparked when Oakley called is dead on arrival once I walk in the door and spy my youngest sister on the sofa, curled beneath a fleecy throw with a tissue stuck up her nose. Last night she mentioned a scratchy throat.
Oh brother. Getting sick is the last thing I need.
She raises herself onto her elbow. “Did you get the trash can?”
I set my purse on a chair and shrug out of my coat. “I did.”
“Sorry. I kept meaning to go do that, but I feel just awful.”
“You look awful.” As awful as is possible for Oakley. Of the three sisters, she won the DNA lottery, her prize lush blonde hair and a perfect frame every man notices.
Tonight, the mass of hair is banded at the crown of her head, creating a fountain effect. She throws it back, contaminating the cushion where the non-sickies of the family might want to sit. “I hate colds. And I can’t think straight to study when I feel this way.”
Oakley is determined to become a doctor one day, but she’s in the un-fun stage of working parttime while applying to medical schools and is supposed to be using every spare moment of her life to study for entrance exams.