Prologue — Knox #2
It’s starting to feel like I’m intruding, and I go to turn, when a small hand wraps around my forearm, I note the light-pink shade of her fingernails as I’m pulled back into their conversation.
“I’m s-so sorry you have to witness th-this.
” She barely gets the words out, laughter causing her to stutter, her high cheekbones are now flushed pink.
I spot a few freckles peeking through, and those combined with her short hair brushing her bare shoulders is unexpectedly the sexiest thing I can remember seeing .
“It’s fine. You ladies have a good evening.” Nodding, I turn my back again, effectively disconnecting her body from mine, and damn, I already miss the weight of her hand on me. They laugh a few moments more before I hear the scrape of the barstools being pulled out. So they’re staying?
“I’m just going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” Tiny must be giving her a look because there’s another laugh before she assures her that she’ll only be a couple of minutes. The bartender comes by, and I ask for five waters and a club soda with lime.
“Not drinking tonight?” That bright voice from earlier asks from the stool next to mine.
Twisting, unable to fight the pull, our eyes connect. “The group I’m here with has drunk enough for the whole bar,” I tell her.
“But not you?”
“Designated driver.”
“That tracks,” she says, nodding.
“Is that so? In what way?”
She looks at me, eyes shining with humor. I’m caught up in them again, admiring their unique shade of brown. “You just look like you would be the designated driver,” she tells me while taking a sip of her rum and Coke.
“And what does that look like exactly?” I ask, turning my body to fully face her now.
“Oh, don’t be offended. I know what one looks like because I’m typically the D.D. Takes one to know one and all that,” she admits.
I nod toward her drink, and she grins before whispering, “It’s just a Coke, no rum.” She adds a wink at me and it’s so fucking cute .
“I’m Knox,” I introduce myself, holding my hand out to her. She takes it, and my whole body hums.
“Nice to meet you, Knox.”
She doesn’t tell me her name. Just gives me a sweet smile.
“Do you live around here?” I ask, sounding a little too hopeful, but she shakes her head.
“I’m only in town for a few days with my sister. What about you?”
“I do live around here.”
“But you’re not from New York.” She surmises. I try not to bristle at her comment.
“And what makes you say that?”
She cocks her head to the side, her short hair once again brushing against her bare shoulder where her shirt has slipped off, then she looks back toward the table I’ve come from. “I can just tell,” she says, sipping her Coke.
I narrow my eyes. “And if I told you I was born and raised here in The Big Apple?”
She shrugs her shoulders, a small laugh escaping her lips. “You weren’t, so you’d be lying.” The way she’s so sure of herself is as equally annoying as it is attractive.
“You seem pretty confident in your assessment. I have to know what’s giving me away. What’s making me stand out?”
“Besides calling it The Big Apple ?” she teases before studying me. Openly.
Her eyes travel up and down my body. She takes her time looking at my shoulders, down to the unbuttoned collar of my dress shirt where my chest hair is peeking out to the rolled-up sleeves at my forearms. Her eyes flick back to mine, her cheeks flushing with her grin.
I’ve been checked out before, I’m not uncomfortable with my body—but having her eyes roam over me like she can remove my clothing with her mind is making my neck hot. I want her to keep looking at me.
She clears her throat. “Well,” she starts, turning to face me on her stool.
“I’m afraid my inspection isn’t all that thorough, and I don’t know if I can pinpoint it for you, but I’m not sure you can help it, Knox.
You just…stand out.” She’s giving me a shy smile that my fingers itch to reach out and trace the curve of.
“And what could I do to help you be more thorough?” I ask her before I can overthink it. Flirting —if that’s what we’re doing here—isn’t something I’m well-versed in.
Her eyes spark at the question. “Hmm…” She taps her chin thoughtfully, playfully, before answering.
“I can think of a few things—none of them appropriate for a hole in the wall bar, unfortunately.” My mind works overtime to come up with other venues—my bed being number one on the list. I stop the thought in its tracks.
Tiny isn’t going to ask me to take her to bed tonight, she’s here after tracking down her sister, and she’s not going to leave her now.
Not wanting this to be the only chance I have with her, I say the only thing I can think of in the moment.
“What about a pizza parlor? Tomorrow?” Smooth, Knox .
I don’t ask women out in the city. I don’t ask women out, period.
The last time I was on a date was in college, but there’s something about her.
She looks at me in a way that leaves me wanting.
I want to hear all her thoughts and watch her hands dance around in the air while she tells me them.
The look on her face is hard to read. I see the shock; she wasn’t expecting a date—but she also looks curious? Tempted even? That makes two of us. She turns away from me abruptly. Okay, I guess there’s my answer. This is one of the reasons I don’t make a habit of approaching women.
I can’t read the room. Here I thought she was intrigued.
Interested even. Now her back is to me, and I’m disappointed to say the least. I reach for the waters that have been sitting next to me, untouched, but the feel of her hand on my arm again stops me.
She’s holding her phone out to me, biting her lip.
“Put your number in,” she orders. My lips twitch, and I do as she says, feeling more relieved than I want to admit.
“Can I have yours?” I ask her, but she shakes her head.
“No. Tell me where this pizza place is, and when I should be there.” Once again, I do as she says as she types something into her phone before her sister gets back to us. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her smile mirrors my own. I don’t remember the last time I felt like this—if I ever have.
This compelling attraction and need to see someone again.
“I’ll see you then. I’m looking forward to a more thorough evaluation.”
“Looking forward to giving it,” she quips.
Content for now with the promise of seeing her again, I grab the waters before heading back to my friends, already anticipating the pushback over me cutting them off.
Later that night, after I get everyone home safe, I feel my phone go off in my pocket as I clear the door to the lobby of my apartment building.
Smiling, because I assume I know who it is.
I guess Tiny couldn’t wait to talk to me either.
But when I pull my phone out, it's a contact already in my phone. A name I haven’t given much thought to flashes across the screen.
Fingers hovering, I contemplate answering.
After six months of no contact, I had assumed she wouldn’t need closure.
It was one night—one night I don’t even remember that well, if I’m being honest. Scrubbing a hand down my face, waiting for the elevator doors to open, and desperate to get to bed, I hold my still-vibrating phone.
Why would she be calling me now? I thought we had an understanding after our last conversation.
The elevator dings as I look at my phone again. Sighing, I step between the open doors and tap the icon to answer.
“Emily?”
“Hey, Knox. I-I need to talk to you.”