Knox KOBO

by Christie Ridgway

  The kiss had left her mouth feeling like a pincushion—swollen and tingling with tiny, delicious pricks.

  He was the most delicious man she’d ever met.

  But she was forgetting him. Right. This. Instant.

  “Did he smell good? I really love a good-smelling man.”

  Though she didn’t want to stay on this topic, it was hard to ignore the plaintive tone in Marissa’s voice. “Honey, shall I pick up some new aftershave for Tom today?”

  “I don’t want new aftershave for Tom,” her friend said, her tone turning strident. “I want to know what that stranger smells like.”

  Yeesh. Pregnancy could make a woman’s moods erratic. “All right, all right.”

  “Well?”

  “Knox—”

  “His name is Knox? That sounds so cool.”

  “His name is Knox,” Erin confirmed. “I should have introduced you.”

  “We didn’t want to interrupt. The two of you looked so…engaged.” Marissa lowered her voice. “Tom’s up now, but I won’t get off the phone until you describe the way this cool Knox smells.”

  Erin shook her head, but tried to find the right words. “He smells like…like good leather and fresh air and…” What else? A pheromone specifically designed to get past Erin’s guard? Because she’d dropped it enough to actually flirt with the man. That mention of Downward-Facing Dog had been no accident.

  Which reminded her… She checked the clock.

  “Look, Rissa. I have to go this second and open up the studio or I’ll be late for my first class.”

  “Okay.” Marissa sighed. “I only want to know one more thing. Any regrets that you let him get away? You looked as if you were really into him.”

  Erin had been really into him. But he was a guy passing through. “None whatsoever,” she said in a firm voice. “It was a chance encounter. A page now turned. He’s officially banished from the planet of my thoughts forever.”

  Famous last words, she discovered, because twenty minutes later the man in black leather walked into her studio, and in the soft early-morning light he looked more dangerous—and more delicious—than ever.

  Panic sweat instantly trickled down her spine.

  Most of the class had already arrived and were arranging their mats in their usual order—once a person established a position in the room they seemed to stick to it. Gertie and Jean and Carol were still chatting near the entrance, however, dressed in pastel leggings and tunics and holding matching water bottles. Turning as one, they went silent to stare at Knox as he glanced around the room, his gaze honing in on Erin.

  Her entire body tensed as their eyes met and her stomach jittered.

  What is he doing here?

  Aware of the curious onlookers, she threaded through the mats to come to stand a few feet from him. His hair was more disheveled than the previous night, and there was a dark shadow of whiskers on his jaw and around his mouth.

  She couldn’t look away from it.

  That kiss. There’d never been another one like it. Tender then bold. His tongue sliding against hers with such confidence that she’d wanted to open her mouth wider for him, melt against his body, offer him everything.

  “I found this vagrant hanging around outside.” An older male’s voice broke through her reverie.

  Her gaze jumped to gray-haired and grumpy Earl Baker, who accompanied his wife to yoga, griping about it all the while until his back pain eased by the end of the fifty minutes.

  “He doesn’t look like a vagrant to me,” Carol piped up, an appreciative gleam in her eye.

  “Then why was he hanging around the entrance? He’s not gonna take yoga in denim pants and a leather jacket.” Earl sent the younger man a hard look.

  “He’s not a vagrant.” Erin shifted her gaze to Knox. “What’s going on?”

  “He’s a hobo then,” Earl said. “Riding the trains that come through town.”

  “Earl, he’s not a hobo,” Erin replied, holding back her exasperation.

  “Not dressed for yoga,” Earl pointed out again.

  “That’s true,” Knox said, speaking for the first time. He aimed a half-sheepish smile at the women gathering closer. “Sorry to barge into your class, ladies.”

  Erin ignored the growing audience. “But what are you doing here?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Earl settled his arms across his chest. “We have nowhere to be. Retired, all of us. Well, except Erin.”

  Now she looked around at her interested students. “Why don’t you all get settled on your mats while I handle this? It shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes.”

  With a few murmurs and another dark look from Earl, they shuffled off, giving her and Knox some space. Still, she moved closer for additional privacy, close enough that she smelled the leather of his jacket. He looked down at her, his dark eyes fixed on her face, a bemused half-smile on his mouth, his mood a complete mystery to her.

  She swallowed. “Knox, what are you doing here?”

  He hesitated.

  Erin’s stomach jittered again, and her breath caught in her throat as she imagined what he might say.

  I thought we made a special connection last night.

  I couldn’t leave after that amazing kiss.

  His hand forked through his hair. “The thing is…”

  I didn’t sleep at all. I just had to come back and see you again.

  She swallowed. “Yes?”

  “My bike broke down.”

  “Oh.” Though he couldn’t know what she’d been thinking, her face flushed with embarrassment. He wasn’t here because she’d been impossible to leave behind—a lesson she had already learned, right? “Your bike broke down.”

  “Yeah. Last night, after you left, I went for a long walk on the beach. The café was closed when I made it back to the parking lot, and I climbed on my bike, heading northward again. After a couple of miles the thing just refused to go farther.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Cursed. Yanked out the owner’s manual and started tinkering. Cursed some more. Eventually gave up and began walking.”

  “There’s not much on that stretch of highway.”

  “I figured that out. I ended up sleeping on the beach until first light, then started walking again. When I saw your yoga studio, I decided to stop by.” Shrugging, he shot her a small grin. “So, sort of like a vagrant.”

  “A phone call—”

  From his inside coat pocket, he pulled out the semblance of a smartphone. “Unfortunately, I stepped on it in the dark while trying to figure out what was wrong with the bike.”

  “Oh,” she said again.

  He shoved the mangled device away and pulled something else from the back pocket of his jeans. The vehicle’s owner’s manual, it appeared. “See this?” His forefinger indicated a label pasted on the front cover. “It’s north of here, I think. Not too far. Mickey’s Motorcycle Sales & Repair. My bike, well, it’s an exotic one and I was actually headed there to get the bike checked out by people possibly familiar with the machine. Now I’m hoping they can get it running again. Do you know the place?”

  “Yes. It just so happens I do.” She checked the clock on the wall. “Though it’s too far to walk and no one will answer the phones for another hour.”

  Hesitating, she thought, what to do?

  He’d been kind the night before.

  That kiss.

  Charming and funny.

  That kiss.

  Then there were the tricks he’d taught her, not to mention the gift of the card game.

  That kiss!

  Yes, that kiss. To prove she was over the inconsequential thing, that the page was definitely turned and maybe even pasted shut to boot, she was duty bound to make the offer, wasn’t she?

  “I’ll take you there,” she told Knox, ignoring instant misgivings. “As soon as yoga class is finished.”

  Then she marched to the front of the room, flipped on the music, and took her pla
ce.

  At twenty-one years old, after she’d woken in the shoddy motel room to find herself alone and robbed of her money, her gas, and her self-respect, Erin had called her father and then waited for his arrival. Without a word of recrimination, he’d put fuel in her tank then followed her home. She’d spent the entire return journey calling herself all kinds of a fool.

  A week later, Marissa had hauled her from a fetal position to a yoga class at the local rec center. Short minutes into that first class Erin was hooked. The teacher didn’t stay in the area long—she too followed a man out of town, but Erin liked to believe he’d never abandoned her and they were happily deep breathing together somewhere.

  The instructor had explained the connection between body, breath, and mind. Through conscious breathing and while moving through different poses, the practitioner created an inner harmony and removed herself from the chaos of the outside world to find a peace within.

  Wonderful.

  Then the instructor had said that through yoga one could be in the driver’s seat of life.

  She’d liked the sound of that even better.

  And Knox Brannigan’s unexpected arrival wasn’t going to knock her out from behind the wheel. Later this morning they’d exchange a second round of goodbyes and it would mean nothing to her. Nothing but another dab of glue to keep that turned page forever closed.

  Knox held a vague idea of what went on during a session of yoga. He’d been dragged to a spin class or two with this vegan he’d dated for a while. And sure, he’d stared through the plate glass window of the Pilates studio not far from The Wake and shook his head at the complicated machinery. But he was more of a surfing, running, and occasional free weights guy, so it was no surprise he was fascinated by the class’s slow progression through stretches and poses.

  Oh, fine. He was fascinated by the class’s leader. The bright athletic wear molding her lithe figure allowed him to appreciate every taut muscle in her arms, legs, and torso. With her dark hair coiled in a dancer’s bun on the top of her head, the pretty angle of her jaw and the slim line of her neck were revealed as well.

  She moved like a dancer too, with grace and a lightness of body that immediately roused male instincts. Protection, to name one, he thought, watching the delicate curve of her fingers as she reached upward. And possession, as unearned as that might be. Then she rose from her mat to approach a student, and he found himself staring at her bare feet, with their high arches and shell pink-tipped toes. His skin blazed with heat.

  Protection, possession, and lust.

  A brightly lit room surrounded by senior citizens was no place for a man to lose control, so Knox shrugged out of his jacket and turned away from her. Staring out the nearby window, he watched the sun edge higher in the sky.

  The night before, he’d never expected to see Erin again. Even when he’d been lying on the beach, under the thin emergency blanket he’d pulled from one of the bike’s saddlebags, he’d refused to think of what might have been if she’d invited him home instead of driving off. He’d stacked his hands behind his head and stared upward, taking in the smudge of the Milky Way in the star-peppered sky.

  And set his mind to thinking about why his father had left him that particular gift. Why the vintage Indian?

  The brothers before him who had dealt with their legacies had found value in them…value beyond any price tag. They’d discovered messages—though mostly unspoken—that their father left to them. It had given them a new peace with the man.

  But Knox didn’t know if any reconciliation—even one beyond the grave—could happen between him and Colin. He wasn’t convinced his father wanted that with his second-youngest son, anyway. There’d been so much acrimony during those months he’d worked for the man. Afterward, a distant politeness existed between the two on the rare occasions they’d met. Neither of them had ever taken the initiative to hash out the old hurts.

  Brannigan men weren’t big on discussing their feelings.

  So Colin’s reason behind passing on the motorcycle remained an enigma. Recently Luke had said that their father hadn’t liked to make things easy for his sons. Knox knew that to be true in his case since upon examination of the Indian the only “clue” he’d discovered was the address of the motorcycle shop. Without anything else to go on, that day in the storage unit he’d decided to head in its direction.

  Last night, however, shivering behind a sand dune, he’d considered dropping the whole idea, reading the botched beginning as a bad portent. In the morning he’d call a tow truck or find a rental, load up the motorcycle and take his sorry ass back home.

  Then, unbidden, Erin had popped into his mind. Her silver eyes and shy smile, her laughter and her light, addicting perfume. I own a studio a few miles north of here.

  In that moment, it had seemed an incentive to continue on his journey. He didn’t expect anything to come of visiting her, of course, but it had been enough last night to set his course. However inexplicable the urge, he’d wanted one more glimpse of her beautiful face.

  “Knox?”

  He jumped, looking over to see she stood at his elbow. “Yes?”

  “Class is over. We’ll leave in just a few minutes.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Shoving his arms back into his jacket, he noted the students were rolling their mats, tucking them under their arms, then heading for the exit.

  Each stopped to say a few words to Erin.

  Old man Earl paused to deliver a glare at Knox, pointing forked fingers at his own eyes then turning them on the younger man.

  Biting back his grin. Knox tried looking properly cowed, then caught Erin watching the two of them. She shook her head.

  “I see that, young lady,” Earl addressed himself to the yoga teacher. “But mark my words, hobo or no hobo, this is a wild one.”

  “It’s the leather jacket.” A woman who had to be nearing eighty sidled close to stroke Knox’s sleeve. “And the boots. Like Steve McQueen and Marlon Brando. Those were wild men.”

  Wearing a little smile, Erin shook her head again and then ushered the last of her students from the studio. “See you later.”

  Knox’s elderly admirer turned and trained bright eyes on him. “Will you be here?”

  “Just passing through,” he said. “I’ll be heading up the coast later today.”

  “And we’ll get on that,” Erin said briskly as she shut the door. “I won’t be but a minute.”

  Only a few more than that and he folded himself into the passenger seat of her little car.

  “I really appreciate the ride,” he said, glancing over at her.

  She’d put on a sweatshirt, and her face was still flushed from the exertion of teaching. A few tendrils had freed themselves from her bun to brush her temples and cheeks.

  He didn’t touch them.

  He didn’t take them between his fingers and thumb to caress their silky texture.

  Though the curve of her ear tempted him, he didn’t tuck those stray locks behind it.

  He only imagined all that.

  She reached for the travel mug between the seats. “You’re sure you don’t want some green tea? You could have this. It’s fresh.”

  “I’m not really a green tea kind of guy,” he said, as they pulled onto the highway. He gazed out the window. On one side the train tracks ran between the blacktop and the stretch of sand leading to the ocean. On the other, land stood empty except for scrub and grasses. Rolling hills loomed in the distance. The glare from the bright sun had him pulling on his sunglasses.

  “It’s going to be a beautiful winter day,” Erin said.

  “Looks like it.”

  She cleared her throat. “Too bad you had to sleep on the beach last night.”

  “I survived. And without the SoCal light pollution, the stars were incredible.”

  A bump in the road caused her Thermos of tea to rattle in the holder. “You knew I didn’t live far…”

  He glanced over to see her attention on the road, but a new flu
sh of pink stained her face. “I wouldn’t show up and scare you like that, Erin. Even if only to borrow your couch.”

  “Of course. Right.” She nodded quickly.

  “And I wouldn’t have just wanted to borrow your couch.”

  Eyes wide, she looked over at him and then returned her attention forward. “Well.”

  The car hit another bump and her insulated cup popped up. They both reached for it, and their hands met. As it settled back in the holder, their fingers remained entwined.

  Heat rocketed through him again. Lust, yes, but there was something else too. Caution? Concern? That need to protect her, he supposed, even if it was from himself.

  But he didn’t release her hand.

  “This is…” Erin licked her lips. “Weird.”

  “Yeah.” He brought their joined hands to his mouth and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “And new to me.”

  “Me as well.”

  He rubbed his jaw with the backs of her fingers. “But I don’t suppose you do one night stands.”

  “No.”

  Not surprised, he let her go.

  They went silent as she took the next exit that led to a small gathering of commercial businesses surrounded by humble stucco homes. They passed a gas station with attached convenience store, a grocery, a taco stand, and a pancakes-and-burgers place. Another half-block, and she turned in to a parking area with a neon sign that read Mickey’s hovering above a two-bay garage connected to an office. A few motorcycles with For Sale signs hanging from the handlebars were parked out front. A house stood behind the repair business.

  As she came to a halt, Erin hopped out of her car, and a big gray bear of a man strolled from one of the bays, dressed in coveralls and wiping his hands on a red shop rag.

  Knox climbed from his seat as he watched Erin go on tiptoe to kiss the grizzled guy’s whiskered cheek.