Chapter 17
Still mentally analyzing Court’s reaction, Knox turned, ready for the next order, and she was right in front of him. Summer. Though he’d been searching for her, the suddenness of appearance stalled his breath in his chest.
God, she was beautiful. Just looking at her made his heart ache. At forty-five years old, he couldn’t remember ever having felt like this before. Not even with his ex-wife, who now seemed like a distant memory.
He startled, coming out of his daze, when Summer said in a sexy voice that made his blood thrum, “May I have a hot dog?”
Knox almost laughed, because it seemed as though something momentous should have come out of her mouth, like I want you, or I need you, or I can’t live without you.
Court, looking at him disgustedly, reached over and grabbed a hot dog with his tongs, slipping it onto her bun.
Summer smiled. The two beautiful young women beside her were her twins in looks, one with long, lush locks dark like her mother, the other with a short bob that suited her just as well.
“Hamburger, please,” the long-haired one said with a smile as gorgeous as her mother’s. Court plopped the burger onto her plate. The one with the bob said, “Dog, please.”
Knox wordlessly passed over the hot dog. And they were moving on. Before he’d said a thing, not even hello. Nothing. What the hell?
He’d had visions of introducing himself, telling them he’d heard all about them, but when it came right down to it, he’d let Summer and her daughters slip by.
Court elbowed him in the ribs. “Pick up the drool, man.”
Knox had the wherewithal to say, “I do not drool over young girls.”
“They’re not girls. They’re women. And I wasn’t talking about them.”
Taking Court’s grin on the chin, Knox decided he deserved the ribbing after dishing it out over Jewel Jansen, the coating tech.
Court leaned close to murmur, “Why don’t you just ask her out? No one around here will care.” He jutted his chin at Holt and Ruby, then at Brett and Ivy.
Knox admitted, “Believe me, I’ve tried.”
Raising an eyebrow, Court laughed. “Don’t tell me the lady-killer charm isn’t working.” With a nudge in Knox’s ribs, he added, “Don’t worry. Once you’re done doling out hot dogs, you’ve got the entire afternoon to win her over.”
But Knox had been trying for weeks, and nothing had worked.
Not even the best sex of his life.
Her heart was beating too fast. For a moment there, the way Knox looked at her, as if he could have jumped over the grill and taken her right there on the picnic table in front of everyone, Summer thought he’d say something mortifying.
Like, your mother gives the best phone sex, or we had the best sex ever at a sex club.
But Knox would never do that. He was biding his time; he had a plan. Knox always had a plan.
They’d taken a seat at one of the picnic tables, Cara beside her, Fallon across the table.
“That one sure was a hottie,” Cara said to her mom, winking at her sister.
Summer didn’t look up from her plate. “Which one?”
Cara jutted her chin. “The one handing out the hot dogs.”
“Oh yeah.” Fallon winked. “That one totally has the hots for you, Mom.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Summer said, following that with a bite of her hot dog.
Cara gave her a bared-tooth smile. “The way his eyes followed you as you walked away, he’s definitely got the hots.”
“Who is he?” Fallon wanted to know.
Summer wanted to cringe. At the next picnic table, a florid, beefy man drained his beer, then crushed it on the table, the sound like a shot through the afternoon, his glower focused on someone or something over by the barbecues.
“I think he’s a VP over at Silicon Valley Displays,” she told her daughters. “Since I’m in Customer Service, I don’t have a lot to do with any of them.”
“Oh, I bet he’d like to have a lot to do with you, Mom,” Cara snarked, and the two girls burst out with a laugh.
“Stop it, you two,” she admonished, but couldn’t help a small grin.
Part of her felt joyful. She’d found camaraderie with the girls that hadn’t been there when they were teenagers.
Like most teenage girls, they’d been a bit secretive, a bit angry with every rule she’d laid down.
But they were growing up, young women, starting their adult lives, growing out of all the teenage angst that made them hate their mother.
A lovely dark-haired woman skipped down the row of picnic tables, two plates in her hands.
Summer recognized her as a technician on the coating machines, but she couldn’t remember her name.
She slid onto the end seat next to the crushed-beer-can guy, saying, “Sorry, David Farris stopped me with a question. You know he’s VP of Manufacturing, so I couldn’t very well brush him off. ”
“The goddamn burger is cold,” the man grumbled as he popped open another beer can.
The woman picked up her hot dog. “It’s not cold. I wasn’t that long.”
“I don’t know how I let you sucker me into coming to this thing.” The asshole—Summer called him what he was—continued to grumble.
The girls had gone silent, not looking, but eavesdropping avidly, so Summer redirected the conversation. “Are you two going to have your faces painted?”
Cara laughed. “We’re not ten years old anymore, Mom,” she said in a singsong voice.
“I’m going to do the lazy river in one of those inner tubes,” Fallon declared.
From the barbecue grill, Summer felt Knox’s eyes on her, his gaze compelling her to look at him. Ignoring the feeling, she said, “I’m game for that,” and took another bite of her hot dog to distract herself.
She wondered why she’d taken a seat facing him. She could have turned her back to him, which would have been better for her peace of mind. And yet, here she was, only two picnic tables between them.
The line of picnickers wanting burgers and dogs opened up between a couple of people, allowing Knox’s gaze to laser right into her. She dragged her eyes away. “I brought my suit and water shoes.”
“We did too,” Cara said, and Fallon nodded, her mouth full.
Summer laughed. “You’re sure you don’t want to do the bouncy house first?”
The girls groaned and the dark-haired coating tech on the other side of the aisle, next to Crushed Beer Can Guy, said with a smile, “Oh my God, you’ve got to do the bouncy house. It’s so fun.”
She had a pretty laugh. Probably thirty-five, maybe a little older, she made a striking picture with her black hair pulled up in that high ponytail and her long, tanned legs.
She was just Knox’s type. Summer was surprised he hadn’t gone for her rather than a relationship-phobe like Summer.
But then the woman had a lug of a boyfriend.
Or maybe he was just a date for the picnic.
The man said nothing, just slugged back a long swallow of beer.
Fallon asked the woman, “Do they even allow adults in the bouncy house?”
Her smile was as beautiful as her laugh—no, Summer was not jealous—and she said, “Who knows? But I’ll give it a try.”
“You’re a goddamn idiot.” Crushed Beer Can Guy snapped, slamming his beer on the table, foam sloshing all over his burger. “Now look what you did,” he sneered as if she’d slammed the beer can.
The woman’s smile faltered, and she turned away, probably embarrassed by his assholishness.
Next to Summer, Cara muttered, “What a creep.”
Summer tried to bring the joy back. “There’s ice cream for dessert. With all the toppings.”
Grady Masterson was serving it out of a cooler at the end of the picnic tables, along with a gorgeous young woman who added whatever toppings a picnicker requested. Once in a while, he leaned over to whisper something in her ear, making her laugh.
“Remember how Grandmama always loved the ice cream bar at the old folks home?” Fallon brought up the fond memory. “She loved her ice cream.”
“With a little bit of chocolate sauce,” Cara added, her thumb and forefinger close together, just as Grandmama used to do.
She was actually Summer’s grandmother, but they all called her Grandmama.
A delightful lady, she’d lived to the ripe old age of ninety-five.
Summer had taken the girls to visit every time they went to see the family on the East Coast. They’d also video-chatted with her often, and suffering a bit of dementia, Grandmama actually thought they’d visited her all the time.
“We need to have ice cream with all the toppings in honor of Grandmama,” Fallon announced.
They all lifted their soda cans, tapping them in honor of the sweet old lady.
“Ice cream it is, then the bouncy house, unless they throw us out, and finally the lazy river on inner tubes.” Summer smiled.
She gobbled down the rest of her hot dog and finished her salad, mostly because the asshole’s muttering and grumbling had become an annoying distraction. Once they were done, they could throw out the trash, get their ice cream, and sit somewhere else to eat it.
She glanced at Knox, who was still laser-focused on her, his lips curving into a wicked grin when he caught her eye.
Oh God, when he looked at her like that, she wanted to melt. Yes, when they found new seats, she’d put her back to him. Then he wouldn’t drive her crazy.
Crushed Beer Can Guy grew louder as he crushed yet another empty can. He was definitely drunk now. “What are you doing when you’re working all those late nights,” he sneered. “Sucking him off?”
The pretty woman hissed, “Stop it. You’re making a scene.”
“I saw how he looked at you. You’re banging him every goddamn night, aren’t you?” His too-loud voice echoed across the picnic area, turning heads. The poor woman’s features flushed with embarrassment.
In a flash, he grabbed her wrist, twisting until her hot dog fell from her fingers, rolled across the table, and dropped into the dirt.
“You’re hurting me,” she said in a harsh whisper Summer overheard.
Not able to stand another moment, Summer jumped up, stalking to their table. “Hey, let her go.”
But he was standing now, still clutching the woman’s wrist. “Mind your own business, bitch.”