CHAPTER NINETEEN KNOX
CHAPTER NINETEEN
KNOX
It was strange to stand in the kitchen at Knuckles and be nervous. Not even on opening night had I felt this rattled. My fingers kept skimming the prep table, so I shoved them into my jeans pockets before I smeared my prints everywhere.
I scanned every surface of the room, from the gleaming counters to the polished stoves to the shelves of white dishes that glinted beneath the room’s lights.
The scent of bleach clung to the air. It hadn’t bothered me while I’d been cleaning but now . . . this kitchen should smell like food. Like vanilla and flour and cinnamon.
“Cookies.” I sprang into action, swiping a mixing bowl from its shelf. Then I began hauling out supplies from the pantry. I was just cracking a couple of eggs into my mixture of sugar and butter when the swinging door opened.
Memphis walked in with Drake on her hip. Her smile dropped as she saw the mess on the prep table, then her eyes softened. “You’re nervous.”
“I’m nervous,” I admitted, my shoulders falling. And now, instead of a clean kitchen, I had a half-started batch of cookie dough. “I’d better clean this up.”
“No, don’t.” She walked over and stood on her toes, tugging at my coat so I’d bend and give her a kiss. “Make whatever it is you’re making.”
“Snickerdoodles.”
“Perfect.”
I dropped my forehead to hers. No one else in the world would tell me to keep cooking. They’d look at the clock on the wall, see it was after five and realize the photographer was due here any minute, then they’d help me sweep it all away.
But not Memphis. She knew what I needed. A task. The slight disarray that made this kitchen my sanctuary. And her. I needed her.
For the first time in months, the restaurant was closed. Mondays were typically slow and I’d wanted to give the staff a day off to rest before the crazed Christmas schedule hit. That, and I’d wanted the day to clean without guests getting in the way.
Two weeks ago, right after Thanksgiving, I’d gotten an email from Lester Novak’s magazine asking when we could work in a photo shoot. I wasn’t sure if they’d want photos of the restaurant and the kitchen, so I’d made sure both were available and pristine.
Memphis and I had driven in together this morning. She’d offered to go home and give me space, but I wanted her here for this tonight. I wanted them both here.
Drake kicked and smiled, leaning my way.
I took him from her arms. “Hey, boss. How was daycare?”
“Great.” Memphis’s lip curled. “He was an angel, according to Jill.”
I chuckled. “Ignore her.”
“I know.” She sighed. “And I know this is just my insecurities showing. But I don’t like her.”
“You don’t have to. We could take my mom up on her offer.”
After Thanksgiving, my family had pulled Memphis into the fold. They loved her. They knew I loved her, even if I hadn’t said the words.
Mom didn’t like the idea of her grandchildren in daycare, so she watched Hudson most days while Winn was at the police station and Griffin was working on the ranch. She’d offered to take Drake too.
“That’s a lot to put on her,” Memphis said. “I don’t want to take advantage.”
“It’s not taking advantage if she wants to do it.” And Mom wanted to do it. She’d asked me five times in the past two weeks. It would be a longer drive for Memphis to take Drake out to the ranch each day, but we’d no longer be boxed in by pick-up and drop-off hours.
And secretly, I wanted her to do it. I wasn’t going to push, it was Memphis’s decision, but I wanted her to spend more time with my family. Because the more she was with them, the more she’d realize they were hers too.
“But two babies?” Memphis asked.
“She had six of her own. And Dad’s around to help.”
“I don’t know.” She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t want to upset Winn and Griffin because I added Drake to the mix.”
“Trust me. They don’t care.” They wanted Drake and Hudson to be buddies too.
Memphis tapped her chin. “Do you think she’d let me pay her?”
I scoffed. “Definitely not.”
“See? That feels like I’m taking advantage.”
“Tell you what . . . if you catch Jill gossiping again or she does something to piss you off once more, we tell her to fuck off. Deal?”
“Deal.”
I was guessing it would take approximately a week before Jill was history.
Memphis had told me about walking into the center and hearing Jill’s comments to her coworker.
It hadn’t surprised me. Small-town gossip in Quincy was as frequent as sunny days.
And I’d been single for a long damn time.
There hadn’t been a woman I’d wanted to date and it was known that I only hooked up with tourists who knew it would end after a night.
Until Memphis.
She’d blown into town and there would be no other women.
“Any calls today?” I asked.
“No. Nothing.” She worried her lip between her teeth.
It was driving her crazy that she hadn’t heard anything from her parents since before Thanksgiving. The assholes hadn’t bothered giving her an update, but I didn’t want her reaching out to them either. Not until they showed with a goddamn apology.
At this point, I was taking no news as a sign that Victor had paid whatever to whoever had blackmailed him. If they all disappeared, I wouldn’t be brokenhearted.
Memphis deserved a hell of a lot better for her family.
Luckily, I had the best one around.
“I was thinking about my sister today while I was driving to get Drake,” she said. “We used to go shopping together before every Christmas. It was the one thing we always did and enjoyed.”
“Spending money,” I teased.
“Yes.” She giggled. “She hasn’t spoken to me in months. I didn’t even realize how damaged our family was because we were all so good at keeping up appearances.”
“I’m sorry.” I pulled her into my side, kissing her hair.
“I’m not.” She touched Drake’s shoe. “He deserves better.”
“You both do.”
She smiled. “You’d better get going on these cookies.”
“Shit.” I laughed and gave her the baby. Then I worked with fury, mixing the dough and rolling it into balls while the oven preheated.
Memphis helped me clean up in a flash and as I stowed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, the door opened and Mateo poked his head inside. “Your lady is here.”
“Would you mind bringing her back?” My heart hammered as I spoke.
“Sure. Smells good in here. Did you make cookies?”
Memphis laughed.
“Yes. And you can eat them all.” My stomach was in a knot. “It’s just a few pictures but . . . damn. I wasn’t this nervous when Lester was coming to eat. What is wrong with me?”
“This article is a huge deal.” Memphis walked over, handing me Drake. Then she reached up to fix my hair. “When I worked in the city, I oversaw a lot of photo shoots. Everyone would get nervous. It’s normal.”
“Did you just make that up so I’d feel better?”
“Nope.”
“Stay. Don’t go anywhere, okay? I want you to be here.”
“Then we’ll stay.”
The door opened as I brushed my lips against hers. I broke away and looked up, ready to greet the photographer. Except the woman walking in behind Mateo was no stranger.
“Gianna?”
Memphis tensed.
What the hell was Gianna doing in Quincy? In my kitchen?
“Hey, Knox.” Gianna’s gaze held mine for a moment, then strayed to Memphis and Drake. She swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Good to see you.”
“You’re Gianna?” Mateo had rolled a large case in for her. He set it on its wheels, then crossed his arms over his chest. He looked to me and I gave him a slight headshake before he decided to toss her into a snowbank for breaking my heart years ago.
Gianna stepped out of the way as Mateo frowned and strode from the kitchen. Then she looked up and tucked a lock of her sleek black hair behind an ear.
“I didn’t realize you were the photographer,” I said. The magazine had simply said they were sending their photographer. I hadn’t asked for a name. Not in a million years would I have expected Gianna to step into my kitchen.
“I, um . . . I started with the magazine a couple of years ago.” So she’d known exactly where she was headed. She’d chosen to come here. Why?
The oven’s timer dinged and Memphis reached for Drake. “I’m going to give you a minute.”
“You don’t—”
“We’ll be back.” Before I could protest, she had Drake in her arms and was out the door.
Shit. I rubbed my beard, then took the cookies from the oven, setting them aside before facing Gianna again. “Why’d you come here, Gi?”
“It’s been a long time.”
I nodded. “It has.”
“I tried calling you a few times.”
“Yeah.” And I hadn’t answered.
“When I saw your name for this assignment, I thought . . .” She glanced at the door where Memphis had disappeared. “You look good. Happy.”
“I am happy.”
“That’s great. Really great.” She burst into action, shrugging the camera case off her shoulder.
She unzipped it and pulled out the camera she’d always carried with her everywhere.
“I saw a few places in the dining area that might be great. And this space too. I’d like to get some different angles and shots. Maybe even have you make something.”
“All right.” I watched as she inspected the kitchen, avoiding eye contact.
Gianna. For years, I’d wondered what I’d say if I saw her again. If my reaction would be full of anger or resentment. But as I stared at her, I was just . . . relieved. Life had been rocky for a while, but I ended up exactly where I’d needed to be—home in Quincy, waiting for Memphis.
“Let’s start in the dining space. Then we can move in here.” She lifted the handle of the case, carting it through the doors.
I followed, glancing around, hoping to find Memphis. But the space was empty.
Gianna set her camera on a table and bent to open the large case, lifting out a tripod.
The lights came next, followed by extension cords and umbrellas.
She moved with purpose, staging her equipment around a square table.
It was the exact table where Lester had sat his second night in the restaurant.
“How is Jadon?” I asked.