24. Indiana
M y head throbs. Like there are little people with hammers inside it, trying to get out.
I’m afraid to open my eyes because I’m worried it will make me nauseous.
I had three too many shots last night. The last time I had more than two glasses of wine was months ago, and for a very different reason.
I snuggle deeper under the soft blankets and inhale.
It smells like trees and mountain air. Crisp and clean—like Knox.
At that, I do open my eyes, taking in my surroundings. The first thing I see is a glass of water and two pills on a sticky note placed on a nightstand beside the bed I’m in. I smile before reading the note.
Take these for your head and then come meet me out on the dock.
I laid some clothes on the chair for you.
Grinning, I take the pills and guzzle the whole glass of water.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my eyes searching for the chair in the corner—noticing my jeans folded over the back of it—then down at my bare legs.
I’m in my shirt from last night and my blue panties.
That’s it. My skin heats at the thought of Knox’s calloused hands working my jeans down my thighs, touching my bare legs— focus, Indie.
I stand slowly and wait for a moment to move, making sure I’m not going to feel sick.
Surprisingly, I feel okay. I go to put my jeans on but see that there is a clean pair of shorts and a sweatshirt on the chair beside them.
Did Knox go get me clothes from my house?
If it were anyone other than him, I might think it was odd, but since it is him, I find it endearing.
I pull the shorts up and slip the sweatshirt over my head.
It’s the one with women holding hands around a fire.
Above them it says: It’s Nice Here, and then under them: In The Cult.
I laugh at his choice, but I love that he picked it for me.
I know for a fact this one wasn’t just lying on top.
He had to dig for it. I make a quick stop in the bathroom, splashing some water on my face.
Last night comes back to me in pieces. Dancing with Buck, laughing with Colt.
Shots. Cora’s hand on Knox. Now, I feel a little bit nauseous.
Knox offering me a ride. Standing on the sidewalk by his truck.
Had I nuzzled into his chest? Oh, yes. There was definitely nuzzling.
One more handful of cold water to my face, and then I head outside and down to the water.
The sun is already out, making the lake sparkle. Sally is basking in it on the porch, but she gets up to walk with me.
“Hey, Sally girl.” I pet her head as we walk.
When I get to the edge of the dock, I stop to admire the view—and I don’t mean the mountains. Knox Holloway is standing on a paddleboard, coming this way—shirtless. His abs flex with the effort, and my mind conjures lots of images that involve the motion. Lots of dirty images.
“Well, good morning, Tiny Dancer,” he calls as he steps off the board, tying it off on one of the boat cleats. I’m assuming the new nickname has something to do with last night, but it all gets a little fuzzy after Knox offered me a ride home.
“I’m not sure what I did to gain the title, but there are worse things than being called ‘Tiny Dancer’ I suppose.” His teeth flash with his smile. The sight makes my knees wobble. I want to be bitten by those teeth. Okay, rein it in, Indiana. Horny much?
“Well, there was the dancing,” he says thoughtfully. That could go either way. I’m not completely uncoordinated, I’m only worried the alcohol may have thrown me off balance. “Then there was the singing in my truck.”
Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.
“The singing?” I hedge.
“The singing,” Knox confirms with a smug grin.
“Was it that bad? Er—was I that bad?”
“Bad? No. Entertaining. Yes.”
“Oh god. So pretty bad,” I surmise.
“I found you entirely captivating.”
I snort. “I’m sure. Captivating as in a car crash you can’t look away from?”
“Captivating as in a sight I didn’t want to look away from.”
I grin. “You’re being nice to me,” I accuse, and he surprises me by laughing. He has a great laugh; he has a great everything.
“Is it so hard to believe that I would be nice?” It’s not actually. It’s not surprising at all.
“Thank you for taking care of me last night, by the way. I’m never drinking again. ”
“You weren’t hard to take care of. And if you do decide to drink again, I recommend skipping the moonshine; it has a history of sneaking up on you.”
“Now he tells me,” I say. “Well, I think I’ll go home and shower; let you get on with your day.”
“Do you think you can postpone that for a while?” he asks.
“I could be persuaded. What do you have in mind?”
“Come out on the water with me.”
“On the paddleboard?”
“You don’t think we can manage?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. I’m still pretty shaky when I stand up on it.”
His smile is…sweet. Teasing. Almost boyish. “As certain as I am that we could, I was thinking we should take the canoe out.”
“Oh, that sounds like fun. Yes, I would love to. I need to help Winnie later this afternoon, but I’ve got nothing this morning since my run got canceled.” By three shots, a rum and Coke, and some moonshine.
“I’m picking up Hazey later, so I thought we could take a tour around the lake before.”
“I’m in.”
We paddle around the edge of the lake for a while. I spot some adorable little otter-like creatures that Knox tells me are marmots, bighorn sheep, and some elk. I’m kind of wishing I had my camera but also really enjoying myself.
“I’ve never done anything like this.”
“Been in a canoe?”
I laugh. “That or been out on a lake like this. I’ve been swimming, but only in a pool.
I mean, I’ve been in nature, but only at one of the nature centers in the city.
Nothing like this. This? It’s like experiencing something for the first time, and you hadn’t even realized you were missing it or that you knew to want it. Does that make sense?”
“I think I’m following,” he says from behind me. I smile. “So tell me more about you, Indie. What was it like growing up in a big city?” My instinct is to redirect back to him. To not talk about me, but Knox is letting me into his life, I think it’s time I crack a window.
So I tell him. I tell him about the tiny apartment.
The collections. The cuckoo clocks, the ceramic frogs, the shirts, the rocks.
He laughs at my puns and sympathizes with me when I tell him that we had to return the cat Han and I stole.
He doesn’t make me feel like I’m rambling.
Just lets me tell him stories that make up who I am.
“I need to ask you a question,” I say after finishing the story of how my pants ripped in half in sixth grade when I tried to scale the fence at recess.
“Shoot.”
“I woke up without pants on this morning.”
“I assumed you would.” I turn to look at him. He’s staring at me, amusement spilling out of him.
“Well…I was wondering how I ended up like that, Mr. Holloway.”
“You don’t remember?”
“I wouldn’t ask you if I did.”
“You took them off before we made it inside the house last night. Then you did two really impressive ballerina turns. Where did you learn that, by the way? All while singing “Tiny Dancer.” I followed you into the bedroom to find you already in the bed. I just laid them over the chair and figured you might want something else to wear this morning, so I ran over to your place early to get a few things. I didn’t snoop,” he promises.
I’m a little mortified at my behavior.
“I hope you know that I don’t go out and get drunk. That’s not really my thing. Last night was an exception. Well, not the ballerina turns, I do those every now and then to make sure I still can.”
He chuckles. “You’re young, Indie. You should be enjoying your nights.”
“I would rather be having a glass of wine by the fire after reading a book to Hazel,” I admit. It’s blatant now. That I like him. That I want to spend time with him.
“I would rather you be doing that too,” he says. I whip around to face him, wanting to make sure I heard him correctly. Does he feel what I do? Only when I do, he stands, getting ready to step onto the dock, and we tip. I try to overcorrect us, but end up making it worse.
My head is under the water before I have a chance to look up at him.