by RC Boldt
My face is a mask of disbelief intermixed with a large dose of panic along with a What the hell are you saying?! tossed in for good measure. Because Becket Jones graduated at the top of his class, not only in high school but in college, too.
This impressive athletically inclined man didn’t walk away with a degree in underwater basket weaving. He graduated with a degree in civil engineering and assisted his alma mater, the University of Florida, with their campus expansion.
My eyes narrow on my best friend, and I feign a look of confusion. “Huh. That’s so odd.” I twist my lips in an exaggerated frown and tap a finger against them in thought. “I once had this best friend who drew up plans for his own house and then did a bunch of the labor himself.” I cut him a sharp look. “Even got into trouble with his coach for it.”
Becket’s expression is one of exaggerated amazement. “Wow. That friend sounds really impressive. You should probably worship the ground he walks on.” Then he flashes me a wide, toothy grin.
Bless his heart, he might not live to see his next birthday at the rate he’s going.
“Anyway,” he addresses Knox, “I have two extra tickets to the gala tonight if you’d like to bring a ‘plus one’ with you and join us.” His grin widens, and I swear, if he smiles any bigger, his face will split in half. “Like one big happy family.”
I’d really like it to split.
Right. Now.
“That’s very,” Knox responds almost cautiously, as if he’s suspicious of Becket’s offer, “generous of you.”
He’s not alone because I’d sure like to know what’s up my best friend’s sleeve.
Becket claps his hands together so suddenly that it causes both me and Knox to jerk in surprise. “Great! It’s settled then.” He jumps up from his seat. “I’ll leave your tickets at the front desk in the Omni Hotel lobby, and we’ll see you at seven tonight.”
Without pausing to wait for Knox’s response, he strides over to where I’m still sitting at my desk, stunned, and drops a loud smack of a kiss on my forehead. “Pick you up at six thirty, Blue.”
I can’t manage to do more than stare after him as he exits my office. Finally, I brave a look at Knox, who appears amused.
“Is he always like that?”
Slowly shaking my head, I murmur, “Not normally.”
He rises from his chair and walks toward my desk. “I came to see how everything was coming along for the new ad space.”
I wish I could say that I’m paying attention to what Knox is saying right now, but I’m not.
Normally, I might be transfixed by the sight of his dark gray pinstriped suit pants that fit him perfectly, showcasing his strong, muscled legs or the black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up like usual, accentuating his forearms sprinkled with dark hair. But none of that has snagged my attention.
Instead, it’s his hands.
“What did you do?” I blurt out, staring at him.
Knox appears confused, brow furrowing. “What did I do?”
“To your hands.” I wave the tip of my pen toward him, circling it to encompass what I’m seeing. “What happened?”
Startled, he lifts his hands, turning the palms upward, and looks down at them before chuckling softly. His eyes slowly lift to mine, appearing a deeper, more mossy green color, and it’s like all the air has been sucked from the room.
Knox’s gaze is heated. “Had a little mishap while I was installing new baseboards in the kitchen.”
I can tell with just one look that he knows—that he recalls exactly how much I used to love watching him work with his hands, making or fixing things.
Instantly, I’m taken back in time to when he purchased his first home along Mobile Bay.
“It’s not much to look at now, but it has great bones, the foundation is stable, and I know I can do a lot with it.” His excitement is contagious, and I smile back before he opens the front door and leads me inside.
“Oh. Wow.” I don’t know what to say because I sure hadn’t expected this sight.
“Now don’t get discouraged,” he tells me hastily. “Just picture this. I’ll knock out this wall…”
I remember watching him tell me his plans, my eyes cataloguing the way he spoke so animatedly, and becoming mesmerized by his energetic attitude.
He’d worked on that house nearly every day after he got home from working his day job. I’d helped him measure tile for the backsplash he’d installed in the kitchen and bathrooms. I’d watched him in his worn-out jeans that had holes scattered here and there and a plain white T-shirt that clung to his damp chest and back. I’d admired him while he’d furrowed his brow in concentration on a particular task, and I knew one thing.
There wasn’t a sexier sight to behold.
And I’d told him so. Many, many times. And those times were usually followed by fierce lovemaking.
Knox’s eyes bore into mine as if he can see my thoughts.
Way to go, Emma Jane, at being completely transparent, I berate myself.
The breath I’ve been holding in whooshes out. Because I’m now picturing him down on his knees with the denim of his faded jeans stretched taut over his ass, the muscles flexing in his arms as he works.
“Are you okay?” His voice is gravelly and subdued, and I know he’s detected the flush that’s spreading across my face.
Clearing my throat, I release the pen my fist has been strangling to death and attempt a calm, collected demeanor.
Steepling my fingers, I raise my eyebrows in question. “Me? Oh, I’m fine. So, you’re”—I tap my fingertips together—“renovating a place here?”
His lips tilt up at the corners. “Yes. I bought a place in Midtown.” He pauses for a beat. “And I’ve installed all new hardwood floors.”
“Oh, really?” My voice comes out sounding strangled. So much for maintaining composure. Because now I’m picturing him installing hardwoods. And recalling the last time he did so.
And exactly how we christened those particular hardwoods.
In every. Single. Room.
Jumping up from my chair, I grab my stainless steel water thermos and hold it to my chest. “I need to refill this and forgot I have an appointment. I’m supposed to go talk to Tim in legal.” I scoot around my desk quickly and dart over to the door. “I can send you an email to update you on all prospective and filled ad space, if you’d like.”
Stepping across the threshold of my doorway, I offer an overly bright smile before I dart down the hall on my way to see Tim.
For the appointment that doesn’t exist.
“So you told him you had an appointment with Tim and then you…?”
“Ran as fast as these heels would carry me.” I lift my foot to show Madison my shoes.
“Oooh, those are cute! Are they new?” A crease forms between her brows. “Remind me again what size those are because I have a dress that would look great with—”
“Madison!” I let out an exasperated sound, my hands flying to rest at my hips. “Focus!”
With a sigh, my friend shakes her head at me. “Fine. Quick recap.” She ticks off each finger as she goes. “Becket played some sort of screwy matchmaker and offered tickets to Knox.” Cocking an eyebrow, she adds, “With a plus one.”
“Right.”
Ticking off another finger, she continues. “Then Knox was talking to you, and you got mesmerized by his hardworking hands that installed…”
“Baseboards,” I supply quickly, and there’s no disguising the dreamy quality to my voice.
Madison stares at me. “You’re literally scaring me right now.”
I rear back slightly. “Why?”
My friend cuts me a look. “You just mentioned baseboards the same way Belle mooned over the beast’s library.” With a wrinkle of her nose, she adds, “Baseboards, Emma Jane. Base. Boards.”
I begin pacing back and forth in her office. “I can’t help it! It’s my weakness. Back when we were…” I falter, abruptly drawing to a halt.<
br />
Madison crosses her arms and peers up at me speculatively from her chair. “Back when you were…?”
It’s with hesitance that I part my lips to answer, but I’m interrupted by the sound of a voice speaking over the intercom of Madison’s phone.
“Ms. Kilpatrick?”
Her head whips around to stare at her desk phone before her wide eyes lock with mine. “Yes, sir?” she answers, tentativeness apparent in her tone.
“I was trying to locate Ms. Haywood to go over a few things and Tim said she’s already finished up their”—he pauses and my eyes fall closed in a wince at the insinuation of falsehood—“appointment some time ago. If you happen to see her, can you tell her I’d like to go over three proposals, in particular, with her.”
I shake my head repeatedly and make a cutting motion with my hand near my throat, silently begging my friend to cover for me.
“Uh, I’ll be sure to pass on that message.” Madison’s voice is overly bright. “Should I end up running into her,” she tacks on hurriedly, “which I haven’t.”
Then she does the unthinkable in her nervousness.
“Maybe you should try to text her? She always has her phone with her.”
My jaw drops at my friend’s suggestion, and there’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line.
“Well, I appreciate that, Ms. Kilpatrick.” The humor lacing Knox’s tone is apparent and I’m praying it’s because he finds Madison’s response amusing and classifies it as nervousness. “I’ll have to do that.”
“Have a great day, Mr. Montgomery.”
“You do the same.”
Just when we believe we’re in the clear, the unthinkable happens.
My phone—the phone I’d set on the hard surface of Madison’s desk—begins to vibrate.
Loudly.
“Oh and would you tell Ms. Haywood that text message is from me, please? Thank you, Ms. Kilpatrick.” And the line disconnects.
Clearly, my reprieve has come to an end.
It’s time to pull up my big girl panties and get on with things.
KNOX
THE WEDDING PLANNING STAGE
“I hate to break it to you, but your dad’s going to lose his shit.”
I can’t help but laugh because it’s in typical EJ fashion to make a move like this.
She’s dyed a streak of her hair blue. Sure, it’s subtle, but still. Her father’s always been obnoxiously domineering. I tolerate him—barely—for her sake, but I despise the way he treats and speaks to the women in his life. Hell, I can’t stand the way he thinks of women, period. It’s demeaning.
“But it’s my something blue,” she protests mischievously.
I frame her face gently with my hands, gazing down into the depths of her cerulean eyes. “I love it, but then again, I love everything about you.”
“Is that so?” She gives me a sly smile and runs her hands down my damp T-shirt, dusting some sawdust from me. “Well, it just so happens that I love everything about you, too.” She tugs at the hem of my shirt, and her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Especially when you’re in handyman mode.”
Her words bring a smile to my lips because every time she comes over to my place after work and I’m in the midst of renovations—whether I’m cutting boards to build the base for the island in the kitchen or installing the cabinets—she gets a certain look in her eyes and can’t keep her hands off me.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. It’s just surprising since most women turn up their noses at a guy liberally coated in sawdust and sweat. Not so with EJ.
“I can’t help it.” She reaches around and swats my ass playfully. “I happen to be madly in love with the man I’m going to marry.”
The way she peers up at me, with so much love shining in her eyes, nearly robs me of breath. She’s so damn beautiful.
And soon—in exactly two weeks—she’ll be my wife.
20
Knox
PRESENT
I’m not sure how long I sit, staring at my phone after I disconnect the intercom call to Madison Kilpatrick. I figured when I couldn’t find her, she’d be with her closest friend and co-worker.
“What’s got you smiling like the cat that ate the canary?” Wells walks into my office without knocking and closes the door behind him.
I give him a look, shaking my head. “Did you even ask my secretary if I was on a call? Or in a meeting?”
He grins. “I just had a lovely chat with your secretary. She told me you were in here working by yourself, and you didn’t have any appointments until later, once you tracked down”—his smile widens—“Ms. Haywood.”
“Remind me to update Karen on who she’s supposed to disclose my schedule to from here on out,” I mutter.
Wells slumps into the chair across from my desk. “So what’s the deal? Did y’all hook up in the copy room?”
Making a face, I cock an eyebrow. “You’ve been watching too much TV.”
“You’re avoiding my question.”
Sliding my chair back, I prop my shoes on the edge of my desk, fold my hands behind my head, and focus my attention on the ceiling. “I’m not sure what’s happening.” With a sigh, I go on. “There are moments when it’s like no time has passed, like we’re still the same people we were before…”
“And today you had one of those moments?”
My eyes close, and I recall exactly when I realized Emma Jane remembered when I’d done the renovations on my house in Mobile. When she recalled exactly how hot it had been that summer—more than just the temperatures had escalated.
“Did I ever tell you how sexy you are when you’re”—she points a finger at me and circles it to encompass my current attire—“all sweaty and manly like this?”
“Is that so?”
Her eyes flare with heat, and she steps closer, raising a hand to gently brush sawdust from my chin. “Oh, honey. That’s a fact.”
We’d christened that house so many times, in every single room. I recall thinking that was what it was all about. That love like that, like ours, was the kind I’d always heard stories about. One that would last.
My eyes flash open at the harsh reality of how wrong I had been.
Turning to Wells, I raise my eyebrows in question. “Feel like spending your last night here as my date to a gala?”
He places his palm against the front of his suit. “Why, Knox Montgomery. How the tongues will wag.”
Jesus. “We were invited by Becket Jones.”
His expression is wiped clean of all humor, and his gaze narrows on me. “We were invited by the man your ex-fiancée is rumored to be shacking up with?”
“That’s right.” I proceed to fill him in on the entire conversation that took place earlier in Emma Jane’s office.
He leans back farther in the chair and strums his fingers on the armrests contemplatively. “And what do you think about this? Is it an olive branch?”
Pressing my lips thin, I carefully consider Wells’s question. “I’m not entirely sure that’s the case. Possibly. But more than anything else, it felt like he was almost…” I trail off, unsure if I want to actually voice the words.
“Playing matchmaker,” Wells finishes for me.
I simply nod and avert my gaze, pondering the idea. Silence falls over us for a moment before he finally speaks.
“What if he is? And what if all these rumors about them have been just that? What does that mean to you?”
Wearily, I run a hand down my face before I raise my troubled eyes to his.
“Hell if I know.”
“You owe me for this,” Wells reminds me yet again. “I say two crawfish boils at your place might make it even.” He gives me a pained expression. “Because you know I hate wearing a damn tux.”
I offer him a dry look. “Yet you travel with one at the ready.”
“One must always be prepared.”
With a laugh, I add, “Need I remind you that I always host the crawfish boils?”
“Well, that’s true, but I—” He breaks off abruptly, most likely catching sight of a beautiful woman. “Oh my. I’d forgotten how well she cleaned up.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him who he’s referring when I follow his line of sight.
And promptly lose all ability to form words.
She’s exquisite. Her dark hair is twisted up in a way that makes it look effortless and touchable. Her eyes are more striking than usual, accentuated by darker makeup, and her lips are a subtle, soft shade of red. Her mouth parts with a smile as she talks with an older couple, and while the woman looks vaguely familiar, I don’t pay any mind because I instantly feel the warmth from Emma Jane’s smile, even if it isn’t centered on me. But what’s really the most showstopping of all is her dress.
The dress is a deep shade of blue, made of a shimmery fabric with wide straps on the edge of each shoulder. The front dips down in a thin, sharp V, but not too much to be indecent. With a cinched waist, it flares down to the floor.
“On second thought, I think she looks rather pitiful in that getup.”
My head snaps around and I stare at Wells. “What?”
He smiles and gives me a slight shove in the shoulder. “Just checking to see if you managed to find your ability to speak.”
Before I can respond, we’re interrupted.
“Great to see you, Knox.” Becket holds out a hand, his warm smile greeting me. I accept his handshake. “And your plus one…” His smile widens as he takes in the sight of Wells. “I can honestly say I expected a plus one of the female variety.”
Wells eyes Becket. “Are you saying I don’t measure up?”
Becket laughs. “It’s safe to say you both measure up a little too well, from the looks of it.” He tips his head to indicate a group of ladies nearby who are obviously discussing us.
“Wells Kennedy.” My friend holds out his hand for Becket, and the two men exchange a quick handshake. “I’m his plus one out of obligation since I’ve been in town to check financials and contracts.”