by Ciara Knight
“I’ll wash up at the restaurant. Let’s go. I’ve gotta be up early to take care of something.” Stella settled into her seat, careful not to wipe the dirt onto her dress.
Knox didn’t argue with her, not when he wanted to move this night along as much as she did. He needed to pick up his game if he wanted to charm this woman into submission for his project. No problem. He’d never met a woman he couldn’t outmaneuver. He’d win her over by the main course. “You know, I think I have you figured out a little better. We’re not too different, you know.”
“No. Not any more different than a 1970 Dodge Charger to a new Tesla.”
It took him a minute, but he figured out her metaphor. This girl wasn’t just beautiful and a little intriguing, she was smart, too. “Yes, but they’re both cars.”
“We are all humans.” She gave him a heart-stopping wink. He hadn’t met a girl as exotic as Stella since, well, Alima. He gripped the steering wheel and willed himself to drive out of the gravel parking lot and through town away from his wayward thoughts.
“All I’m saying is that I think we can work together. I get that you’re not interested in the show, but you want to save your garage. Am I right so far?”
“Yes…” she said with trepidation.
“And you enjoy working on cars.”
“That doesn’t take a genius to figure out. I own a garage.” Stella took a chest-expanding breath that distracted him enough that he ran off the road and had to recover.
“Keep your eyes where they belong. I’m not one of your floozies you want to show off for your image.” Stella eyed the road outside as if the passing grass was more interesting than his small talk.
The town shops were closed, but he caught a glance of Carissa and Drew walking down the street. Stella shrank down in her seat, telling him she didn’t want to be seen with him, but why?
“I’m not looking for a woman to show off on my arm right now. Actually, I want to improve my reputation. Believe it or not, I’m not the womanizing Internet personality everyone thinks I am. I didn’t bring you out to show you off and then drop you back home. I made an effort to figure you out better to take you to a place you wanted to go for dinner so you could enjoy a nice evening while we spoke about business. I didn’t ask my receptionist to make the reservation. I didn’t have a driver pick you up and have you meet me there. I made the reservation, I did the research, and I believe that you’ll have a lovely evening because I put extra effort into making you feel special.”
He turned off the main road and headed down a side street, spotting the red sign ahead for the restaurant.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why what?”
“Why are you trying to make me feel special?”
He thought about it for a moment and knew his normal schmoozing wouldn’t work. “Because I was intrigued by you, which means you’re special.”
“I see.” She studied the grease on her hands. “Tell me… All this research you did for the perfect date. Do you think it was worth it?”
He pulled into the parking lot, and it appeared to be a nice building with romantic twinkling lights with the aroma of hearty beef and garlic that wafted through the air vents. “Yes, this will be a great place for us to enjoy a good meal together.”
“This five-star steak place?” she asked with a sweet smile.
“Yes. See, I do know what you like. I asked around.”
Her smile turned into a grin that twisted a little further on one side than the other. “Yep, you know me so well.” She opened the car door. “By the way, I’m a vegetarian.”
Eight
Stella chastised herself silently. What happened to being gracious and sweet? Her defensiveness was going to ruin everything.
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry. We’ll go somewhere else.” Knox appeared genuinely disappointed, which made her feel even worse. Yes, the guy was full of himself and superficial with no real substance, but she didn’t have to be rude.
“No. It’s fine. I’m sure they have salad or something.”
He laughed, a bent-over-holding-his-gut laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Her irritation grew, so she reminded herself she was trying to get the man to pay her ahead of time for her hours on the show.
“Sorry. It’s just that—” he gasped “—the leather-wearing, car-fixing, biker woman is vegetarian.”
“Faux leather.”
He bent over the steering wheel, laughing harder and swiping at the tears in his eyes.
“Glad I could provide some entertainment for you.” She got out of the car and marched to the front awning. For a celebrity type, he was fast, reaching the door before she could open it.
He held it shut. “Seriously, I’m not taking a vegetarian into a steakhouse.” Knox stepped into her personal space. “I get it. You’re right.”
“About what?” Stella couldn’t keep up with him. The man was all over the place.
“I don’t know you. But Stiletto, I sure want to understand you better. I mean, you’ve got layers. It’s been a long time since I met anyone I didn’t figure out in the first thirty seconds of meeting them.” He brushed his thumb over her knuckles, and she didn’t like the way it left her body wanting his touch. “Name the place. I’ll take you anywhere.”
All she knew was this man needed to take a step back, and she could see he wasn’t used to not getting his way all the time. “Fine, but if you’re serious, then you get the real me. Not this made-up, sweet-talking girl who wants to win you over. It isn’t working.”
“This has been you sweet-talking me?” His brow arched in what Stella couldn’t deny as a charismatic, stomach-stirring way.
“Yes. Maybe Jackie was right and you couldn’t handle the real me.”
His brow dropped, as did his smile. “Jacqueline, huh?”
She nodded, but before Knox said another word, Stella could already see that woman had done something more than lend her a dress.
“The same Jacqueline who told me to bring you to the best steakhouse in town?” He took a step back, allowing her to breathe in the too-tight dress before the stiches burst.
“I should’ve known.” Stella rolled her eyes and stepped around the car. “This had Judas Jackie written all over it. She’s so worried she’s going to lose to me, she’ll do anything to sabotage it. I can’t believe I listened to her. Get in the car.”
“Where are we going?” he asked but followed her lead, returning to his driver’s side.
“Let’s drop the pretense and figure out if we can work together or not. If not, then we move on. If so, then we move forward. We both want it to work for different reasons, so let’s just speak frankly, iron out the details, and stop all these games.” She wanted him to stop the tilt-a-whirl of emotions he evoked. The tight breath, irritating, soft touch, with a splattering of intrigue.
“Games?” he asked, as if offended by her words.
She put on her seat belt. “Games. Your entire life is a game, and I don’t want to play. Here’s how it’s going to be. We’ll discuss how we want the show to go and see if we can work this out. For now, drive.”
“To where?” He started the car without argument, but she knew he wouldn’t like her idea of what a good evening would be. Not a night of faux dating with expensive dinner and flirtatious touches. Instead, they’d have more of a garage-running, simple meeting with no pretense far from the limelight he so craved. “Go back to Main and then out the other side, up the hill, and then right.”
“Okay. I like a woman who takes charge.”
“No games, remember? You’re not here to win me over with your attempt at charming me or playing hero.” She had never and would never be manipulated by a man to get what they want. Her father had done it to her for too many years until he landed in jail. “Talk, eat, plan. That’s the deal.”
He held up one hand in surrender. “Okay, but I think you have the wrong opinion of me. You only know my brand, not me.” His words sounded hoarse, as i
f there was more behind his statement than just small talk.
When they passed Mary-Beth’s place and she saw the lights on, for a minute, she wished she wasn’t missing out. Then she saw Jackie’s car and remembered why they were no longer friends. The fiancé-of-her-best-friend-stealer wasn’t her friend. Sure, she’d agreed to a cease fire, but that didn’t mean she had to like the girl. And then this dress-bait, soaked in lies, chased with the realization that Stella didn’t belong in Knox’s world only made Stella resent Jackie more. “Do me one more favor?”
“What’s that?”
“I know you and Jackie are a thing, but don’t bring me into it. Don’t ask her about me. Don’t even talk to her about me. Got it?”
“Considering the advice I received last time, I think you’re safe. For the record, though, Jackie and I are just friends. We understand each other and how we want success in our lives, but there’s no chemistry between us.”
Stella’s pulse rate went over fifty-five, but she closed her eyes and willed away that foreign thought of possibility with a man like Knox Brevard with his womanizing and drinking and partying and his love only for money and fame.
The car turned down the street to Pedro’s food truck. They had her favorite burritos in town and it was the one place she knew Knox would never eat…and Jackie would faint if she saw them there.
“Pedro’s. Great. I’ve been wanting to try this. Lori told me it was good. I love bean burritos.”
“You do?” Stella gave him the don’t-lie-to-me side-stare.
Knox turned into a space and put the car in park. “Now who’s making assumptions about people? You know, I’m not all stiff suits and applause seeking. I’m still a man who likes the simpler things in life.”
There it was again, that undertone of sadness. It intrigued and drew her in, but she fought and managed to free herself from asking.
“It’s been a while since I slowed down. Life is easier that way sometimes.” He opened his door.
Let him go. Don’t ask. You don’t want to know anything about him except how to get this show over with.
He rounded the car and took Stella by her hand to escort her to the food truck.
“What do you mean it’s easier sometimes to not slow down?”
He halted only two feet from the salvation of ordering their food. Her breath caught at the sight of his jaw twitching, his bicep straining against his jacket, and his eyes downcast and misty. “Not first-date conversation.”
Date? First? She wanted to argue and tell him he was wrong. This wasn’t a date, and if it was, it would be their last. But she couldn’t. Not when the superficial, attention-seeking, wanna-be-hero-to-everyone Knox Brevard had shattered in front of her eyes and she found a glimpse of a wounded, vulnerable man underneath.
Nine
The spicy burrito left Knox’s eyes watering and the back of his neck and forehead sweating. He dabbed at his face with a napkin while eyeing the garage from his lawn chair near an old large Chevy.
“Too much for you, city boy?” Stella said with a little kick of a Latino accent. A touch of sour cream creased the corner of her lips. He wanted to use it as an excuse to lean into her, but she’d probably slug him. She wasn’t a girl he could move in on, unless he wanted his body to be found under a car. Alima had been brave for a woman in her position in life, but she’d never possessed the spunk Stella showed. After all, how could a woman in the Middle East with no real rights act in such a way? Alima had had great inner strength, though. Any woman with enough courage to introduce an American soldier to her family was strong. Who knew it would cost her her life?
He took another large bite, allowing the heat to sizzle on his tongue, down his throat, and into his stomach. He’d regret this later, but for now, it kept him grounded to this world and not slipping into the old one. “The car. Is it yours, or are you working on it for someone?”
“The Chevy was my abuelo’s. I’d planned to fix it up and get it running, but something seems to always thwart my plans. I’ll get her done someday, though. It’s something we worked on together. It was the first car I ever tinkered with.” Her gaze traveled over the car and obviously fond memories.
“You were close to your grandfather?”
“He and my abuela were everything to me. They raised me. My abuela was from Columbia and taught me how to cook and dream. My abuelo was from New York and taught me cars and bravery.”
“And your parents?”
“No,” she said flatly. “My turn.”
He shifted in the lawn chair, the metal frame crying under his weight. “I promise to answer your questions, but for now, I need to know that I’m entering into a segment here that will work for my show. That you don’t have any skeletons under your hood.”
Stella placed her burrito on the wrapper in her lap and removed that dot of sour cream from her lips. “You said you want to get to know me in order to frame this series around me. Well, that street isn’t one way. You’re ex-military like Drew, right?”
He swallowed the dryness and took a long sip of soda through the tiny red straw. “Yep, we served together.”
“How’d you go from ex-military to Internet sap?” Stella sighed. “I don’t mean to sound rude. It’s just that I can’t reconcile the two. Combat missions to frivolous playtime.”
The oversized clock on the wall clicked away like a timebomb. He took another long drink and settled his nerves. “Change. When you face such destruction, pain, loss… Frivolous is a vacation from that world.”
She leaned toward him with soft eyes. “I guess I can understand that. Maybe you’re not such a horrible person after all. You know, if I strip away the arrogance, self-entitled parts and restore you to a pre-fame Knox.”
The way she looked at him, as if she thought he was more than a womanizing personality, made him uneasy. He cleared his throat and set his drink on the floor. “Don’t kid yourself. I’m who I am.”
“A guy who hides his pain behind an image,” Stella said in the softest tone he’d heard out of her so far. He didn’t like it. Pity didn’t work for him. It was part of the reason he’d never told Drew and Lori about Alima. Drew’s squad had transferred out of the area before Knox had fallen in love with Alima, so Drew couldn’t have known for sure if any of the stories were true. Sure, they’d heard rumors, but they never spoke about it. Knox would never speak about it again with anyone.
“My turn. What about your parents?” Maybe he could spin an HEA out of this garage story and earn some brownie points with his followers, ultimately securing his streaming show. That’s why he was here.
“Gone. I’m the small-town cliché. Girl wasn’t loved enough for her parents to choose her over drugs, fame, and crime. Mother ran off to pursue her dreams and never returned. Father ran off, only to return and end up in jail. Guess that ends this conversation.”
“Did you do anything? Criminal, I mean? If so, tell me now. If not, I can still make this work.”
“No. I’m poor. That doesn’t make me a crook.”
“If you need money to keep this place going, I can lend it to you.”
“You’re not playing my hero, and I’ll never be indebted to a man.” She took a bite of burrito that dripped refried beans onto her dress.
Knox grabbed his napkin and scooted closer to help, but the way her jaw twitched told him to stand down, so he backed away. “You better go put that in cold water or it’ll stain.”
“No worries. It’s not mine. Jackie dressed me up like a doll so I could embarrass myself trying to be someone I’m not.” She smeared the refried bean stain across the material. “Serves her right.”
“You know, that dress might have been meant to embarrass you, but it backfired.”
A perfectly arched brow that framed her faux-leather-colored eyes raised at him.
“All I’m saying is that if I were you, I’d get that stain out and keep the dress, because you’re more stunning than Jackie could ever pull off in any of her designs.”
He rolled up the remaining quarter of his burrito into the silver wrapping and set it by his drink. “I’m being honest. I thought you liked people to tell you things straight. Perhaps you hiding behind oversized garage overalls and grease stains is your way of protecting yourself. If you look unapproachable, then people will leave you alone.”
“Okay, my turn, Dr. Brevard,” she said. She took her last bite of burrito, and he couldn’t imagine how a woman with her figure could eat like that. It was refreshing. He never liked the bony girls who never ate, but they had photographed well and they’d always managed to move on once he’d introduced them to the public. It was a win-win for everyone. “Maybe you’re not the superficial, attention-seeking hog that everyone thinks you are. Perhaps you’re hiding behind a brand to keep from letting people get to know the real Knox Brevard, if that’s even your real name.”
“What would I have to be hiding from?” He laughed, but he heard the edge, despite his attempt to play off her accusations. The clock clicked away again, and he shot up. “I didn’t realize it was getting so late. I promised Drew I’d meet up with him about tomorrow. You sure there’s nothing about you I need to know before we move any further into this segment?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
“I should go.” He stood, but before he could take one step, she was in his face, a breath away.
“No. Not happening. You head-shrunk me. My turn.” She stood eye-to-chin with him, but he didn’t retreat.
“Tell me. You said something earlier about sometimes it being easier not to slow down.”
He couldn’t swallow, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.
Images of a silk scarf flittering in the wind outside the blast zone came in like a nail gun to his skull. The pain pounded his head with unrelenting hammering until he closed his eyes and rubbed his temple.