Chapter 12
Knox
For the first time in my life, I’ve been called a smooth talker.
That’s what Everly declared me after my invitation to the tree lighting.
My respirations screeched to a halt until she broke into a giggle at my cheesy invite, squeezed my hand, and seemed as pleased about going out with me as I am to be taking her.
I prepped myself for her to suggest we meet me at the square, but instead, she gave up the address to her family home.
Goalsetting isn’t a big thing with me, not like Rand with his charts and five-year plans.
However, two objectives loom large for the night ahead.
Aside from lots of fun with the prettiest woman to condescend to spend time with this big old ox in ages, I intend to uncover what Everly does with her life when she’s not saving the day for a grumpy heart patient.
I can’t believe I haven’t asked before now.
What job gives her the freedom to take weeks off at will?
I feel a grin consume my face as I turn the boring sedan onto Mistletoe Drive. Talk about goals. If I’m lucky, Everly’s street name is not-so-subtle foreshadowing of the evening ahead.
The houses on the Wilkes’ street are midsize and look to have been built around the time my illustrious athletic career began—a flag football league when I was in first grade.
Most are well-maintained, and many have been updated.
Nearly all display some measure of Christmas cheer tracing the porches and rooflines.
But there’s nothing save a red-bowed wreath on the front door of the house matching the address Everly texted me before I checked out of the diner this morning. Yes. A woman’s number in hand is half the battle.
Hah. Becca’s number turned out to be a prelude to my own personal Waterloo.
I thump a tight fist onto the steering wheel. Maybe I need a lobotomy, or at least a head doctor, to fix my jacked up brain. That woman is nothing to me anymore.
Unless she becomes my sister-in-law…
The next thump rattles the wheel. Man, am I now sentenced to a life of Thanksgivings and Christmases staring across the table at her?
I park at the end of the sidewalk and get out.
My finger on the doorbell summons…Oakley. Doorknob in hand, she tilts her head at me. “Yep. It’s you.”
Thrown, I feel my greeting smile losing charge. “Excuse me?”
“You seemed familiar the other night at Uncle Charlie’s, but I didn’t figure out until yesterday where I’ve seen you.”
“And the verdict is?”
“The bank. I work parttime as a teller at First National.”
I snap finger guns at her. “You found me out.” It’s a small, regional bank, but LHS’s accounting department wanted something local for the sake of convenience during the current job.
Plus, it was a brownie point with the city’s people in hammering out the initial contract.
I’m sure someone in city planning was a friend of a friend.
That tends to be the way those things work.
“You usually deal with Martha, I think.”
“That’s right,” I say as I swish my shoes on the welcome mat once she finally clears my entrance and moves to the side. “She’s always very helpful.”
“And knowledgeable. She typically deals with our bigger accoun—"
“Hi, Knox.”
Everly. The woman finds fresh ways to explode onto the scene every time.
Her fuzzy, fitted sweater whispers Christmas, encasing her like a well-wrapped gift.
She’s ditched her work ponytail, and dark chocolate tresses frame her porcelain face and glide along her shoulders.
This is the first time I’ve seen her hair down, and it is more beautiful than even my imagination gave it credit for.
My fingers are already yammering to slide through the soft-looking waves.
A throat clears from Oakley’s side of the room. “Ahem.”
In order to squeak out a greeting, my throat needs for-real clearing. “You look awesome, Everly.”
A flavoring of the sweet shyness that’s only shown itself a couple times before sprinkles her smile. Pure instinct has me reaching out.
Smiling, she places her exceptionally soft hand in mine. “You do, too, Knox.”
Awesome? Doubt it—but my dark-washed jeans, sweater, and dress sneakers are an upgrade from the work garb she’s accustomed to seeing me in.
A middle-aged woman enters from the kitchen, laying aside a hand towel on an elevated bar partitioning the rooms. Like the younger daughter, she’s average height. Everly is taller, one of my favorite things about her. She’s the perfect size next to my clunky self.
The woman brushes her palms down her hips as if the towel was inadequate and instructs Everly to make introductions. As I shake her offered hand, curiosity mingles with calculation—friendly calculation, but I’m definitely under the microscope.
“I hear you’re a visitor to the area, Knox. How long have you been in town?”
“A little over a month now.”
“I hope Chandor is treating you well?”
“Yes, ma’am, Chandor is great. The weather, on the other hand, is giving us fits.” I smile lest the second half come off as criticism. People can be sensitive regarding the strangest things, and how Mrs. Wilkes views me feels significant.
She bats the air with her hand. “Goodness, it feels like we’re about to float away. So much rain and cold!” She shivers.
I chuckle. “Makes for some long days, but at least we’re far enough south that the ground isn’t frozen.”
A timer from the kitchen helps wrap up the small talk. Yes. Warm as Mrs. Wilkes is, I’m ready to have Everly to myself.
I help her into the coat she lifts off the back of a chair and wait while she wraps a colorful scarf around her neck.
Once we’re in the car, all by our lonesome, I smile at my date in the passenger seat.
My date.
Oh, yeah.
“Did you sleep this afternoon?” Everly’s eyes, china doll blue, rest on me.
“Sure did.” Dreamt a lot, too—a matter that will stay my little secret. “Popped earplugs in and slept like a baby.”
“Good, because this morning, you looked like a cranky baby an hour past nap time.”
I chuckle. “Cranky?”
She shrugs. “Or like you tied one on last night. I wasn’t sure there for a minute.”
I’m learning in real time to never assume what Everly will say next, and in this case, I believe she’s lobbed a question disguised as a jest. “Nope. I limited myself to two energy drinks and a bottle of water.” Checking for traffic, I turn right onto the next street.
“I don’t drink alcohol, by the way, in case that’s what you’re asking. ”
“I wasn’t asking…” Arms wrapping her purse on her lap, Everly rolls her lips between her teeth. “But, um, ever?”
“Let me think. I had a glass of champagne at my grandparents’ fiftieth anniversary party.” I sneak a peek. “Is that a dealbreaker?” The early get-to-know-you phase can be awkward, but if there are dealbreakers between us, the sooner I know, the better.
A slow smile breaks across her pink cheeks. “No. I don’t really drink either. My friends talk me into a margarita once or twice a year.”
I swing my head side to side. “Everly, Everly, Everly. If your friends wanted you to jump off a bridge, would you do it?”
She elbows my arm where it rests on the console delineating our spaces. “Shut it, Knox.”
Everly is fun, keeping me on my toes and making me laugh. I don’t want dealbreakers with Everly. None, please. Okay, God?
Near the square, streets are blocked off. Everly directs me to the north side where she thinks she knows of a good place to park. The lot is already full, however, and I end up parking along a curb in front of a charming old Victorian home multiple blocks away from the center of the action.
She allows me to practice my gentleman skills and waits for me to open her door. It’s old school, but Everly deserves respect. She waits while I retrieve my coat from the backseat, put it on, and lock up.
Spreading my fingers in blatant invitation, I hold out my hand. She takes it, and we begin a leisurely stroll, fingers twined, toward the bright lights and piped in Christmas tunes.
“I’m glad the wind died down this evening.”
I nod. “Me too. I can’t believe the snow didn’t get here. Oklahoma was a mess this morning. I figured it was heading this way.”
“That’s how winter weather works around here. Be careful about falling for snow forecasts. Snow hits the Red River and then says ‘just joking’ and heads in another direction. We get stuck with boring, icky cold.”
“Too bad. Snow would have been the perfect accent for tonight’s event.”
She shakes her head. “Not really. Around here, a single flurry shuts everything down. I guarantee you the Christmas tree lighting would have been canceled and we’d have spent the entire evening running to the windows watching for snow that never came.”
“Now that’s just sad.”
“Tragic when you’re a kid wanting a day off school.”
“I can imagine. But as an adult, it works for me. Our deadline is coming up fast.”
“Will you get to go home for Christmas?”
I dash my head, then answer when I remember the darkness. “Probably not. We only have two days off. Normally, things shut down for an entire week, but the company is resorting to overtime pay to keep the guys around and offering a bonus for finishing on time.”
I feel a squeeze around my hand. “I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “I’ll survive. It’s a good year to miss.”
By the path her voice takes to reach my ears, I can tell she’s looking directly. “Why is that?”
Visions of making merry around the Christmas tree with Becca and Rand pepper my imagination like spongy arrows launched at my head by a trouble-making elf bound for Santa’s naughty list.
But how big an idiot am I, rabbit-trailing into that at a moment like this? I won the prize tonight. Everly Wilkes is with me. “Minor family drama. No big deal, but I don’t mind avoiding it, all the same.”
“Ugh, I hear you. Family sometimes, right? Mom and Oakley about drove me nuts when I told them we were going out tonight.”
“Your mom did seem to have a lot of questions for me.” We’re nearing the merrymaking, where rows of multi-colored lights skimming the rooflines of buildings brighten our path. “Kind of makes me wonder what all you said about me.” I sway, swiping my sleeve into hers.
She swipes right back. “Keep wondering, buddy.”
Laughing, I tighten my hold on her hand.
It fits perfectly.
The switch is supposed to be flipped on the city tree in—I check my watch—precisely fourteen minutes.
We make our way through the crowd and find a spot on the courthouse lawn.
An upbeat rendition of O Christmas Tree pulses through speakers set up on the perimeter.
Near the front of the crowd, with the giant evergreen as a backdrop, children dressed as elves dance, bringing the song to life.
The press of the crowd pushes Everly and me close, which is awesome, but blaring music takes real conversation off the table. Is it too soon to wrap my arm around her waist and pull her all the way in?
Fate, exasperated with my indecision, makes the move for me. A pair of elementary-age boys zip through the throng, jostling her. I steady her until she’s balanced—and don’t let go. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her back, tight against my chest.
Finally, the mayor takes the stage and begins the countdown. Three, two, one…and we have Christmas!
The tree is shiny and bright, but nothing beats the feel of Everly snuggled in my arms.