by Lucy Score
We’d been trading texts for the last two days.
“You did it again? I knew it! I fuck—freaking knew it,” he said, dancing from foot to foot.
“Great. Congratulations, Mr. Know It All. Now tell me what it all means?”
“How the hell should I know what it means? I’m the one who chickened out on asking that fine AF salon god for his phone number.”
My jaw dropped. “Excuse me, but Stefan Liao has never chickened out on a hot guy before.”
“Let’s not make this about me and my temporary mental break. Go back to the sex part. Was it good?”
“Phenomenal. Best sex ever. Now I’ve trapped him in something resembling a relationship and I have no idea what to say to Way about it. I don’t want her thinking that it’s okay to jump from relationship to relationship. Or that it’s not okay to be alone. Or that it’s okay to have a one-night stand with a hot guy.”
“Hate to break it to you, Little Miss Uptight, but all of those things actually are okay.”
“Thirty-six-year-old adult woman me knows that,” I snapped. “But those things don’t look okay in the eyes of family court, and is that really the example I want to set for an eleven-year-old?”
“I can see you’ve entered the over-analyzing everything part of your freak-out,” Stef quipped.
“Stop being a jerk and start telling me what to do!”
He reached out and squished my cheeks between his hands. “Naomi. Did it ever occur to you that maybe this is your chance to start living a life you choose? Start doing things you want to do?”
“No,” I said.
The screen door burst open, and Waylay jumped out with Waylon on her heels. “I can’t find my math book.”
“Where did you see it last?” I asked her.
“If I knew that, I’d know where it was.”
The three of us headed in the direction of the cottage. Waylon darted out in front of us, pausing every few feet to sniff things and pee on them.
“Does Knox know you have his dog?” I asked.
“Dunno.” Waylay shrugged. “So are you and Knox a thing?”
I stumbled over my own feet.
Stef snickered unsympathetically next to me.
I blew out a breath. “Honestly, Way. I have no idea. I don’t know what we are or what I want from him or what he wants from me. So we probably won’t be a thing forever. But we might be spending more time with him for a while. If it’s okay with you.”
She frowned thoughtfully at the ground as she kicked at a stone. “You mean you wouldn’t hang out with him and stuff if I didn’t want you to?”
“Well, yeah. You’re kind of pretty important to me, so your opinion matters.”
“Huh. Then I guess he can come over for dinner tonight if he wants to,” she said.
Nash was home and resting in his freshly cleaned and restocked apartment. My parents were celebrating their weekly date night with dinner at a five-star Lebanese restaurant in Canton. Liza had invited Stef to be her “hot date” for a dinner party at a local “fancy-ass horse farm.”
As for me, I had a new (to me) SUV in my driveway, and my sort-of boyfriend and niece were in the backyard building a fire in the fire pit while I put away the leftovers.
Waylon was in the kitchen with me in case I dropped any of the aforementioned leftovers.
“Fine. But don’t think you can look at me with that droopy face and get a treat every time,” I warned the dog as I reached into the mason jar of dog treats I hadn’t been able to resist at Nina’s dad’s pet shop.
Waylon wolfed down his biscuit with an appreciative full-butt wiggle.
“Ouch! Damn it!”
“Waylay! Language!” I yelled.
“Sorry!” she called back.
“Busted,” Knox sang not quite quietly enough.
“Knox!”
“Sorry!”
I shook my head.
“What are we going to do with them?” I asked Waylon.
The dog belched and wagged his tail.
Outside, Waylay gave a triumphant whoop, and Knox punched both fists in the air as sparks became flames. They high-fived.
I snapped a picture of them celebrating and sent it to Stef.
Me: Spending the evening with two pyromaniacs. How’s your night going?
He responded less than a minute later with a close-up of a dignified-looking horse.
Stef: I think I’m in love. How sexy would I be as a horse farmer?
Me: The sexiest.
“Aunt Naomi!” Waylay burst through the screen door as I wiped down the counter tops. “We got the fire started. We’re ready for s’mores!”
She had dirt on her face and grass stains on her t-shirt. But she looked like a happy eleven-year-old.
“Then I guess we’d better get them started.” With a flourish, I pulled the dish towel off the s’mores platter I’d assembled.
“Whoa.”
“Let’s go, ladies,” Knox called from outside.
“You heard the man,” I said, nudging her toward the door.
“He makes you smile.”
“What?”
“Knox. He makes you smile. A lot. And he looks at you like he likes you a lot.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “Oh, yeah?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It’s cool.”
We ate too many s’mores and sat around the campfire until dark. I expected Knox to make an excuse to head home, but he followed us inside and helped me clean up while Waylay—and Waylon—went upstairs to brush her teeth.
“I think my dog is in love with your niece,” Knox observed. He pulled an open bottle of wine and a beer out of the fridge.
“There’s definitely a crush happening,” I agreed.
He pulled out a wine glass, filled it, and handed it to me.
Okay, maybe there were two crushes happening.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said, opening his beer and leaning back against the counter.
“Thanks for haranguing the sales guy into submission,” I said.
“It’s a good vehicle,” he said, hooking his fingers in the waist of my shorts and drawing me closer.
We’d spent the majority of the day together, but without touching. It had been a special kind of torture to be so close to a man who made me feel so much I forgot to think yet not be able to reach out and touch him.
He smelled like smoke and chocolate. My new favorite scent. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to taste him. So I did. Bringing my mouth to his, I sampled his flavor. Leisurely. Deliberately.
His free hand came around me, splaying over my low back, holding me to him.
I breathed him in, letting his heat take the chill off my skin.
Suddenly, there was thunder on the stairs as both Waylay and the dog charged down.
“Damn it,” Knox muttered.
I jumped back and picked up my wine.
“Can we watch TV before bed?” Waylay asked.
“Sure. I’ll just say good night to Knox.” I was giving him his out. The man had to be exhausted, and I was sure he had better things to do than watch YouTube episodes of teen girls doing makeup with us.
“I’m up for some TV,” he said, sauntering into the living room with his beer. Waylay launched herself at the couch, curling into her favorite corner. The dog hopped up next to her. Knox took the opposite end and patted the cushion next to him.
So I sat down with my niece, my sort-of boyfriend, and his dog, and we watched a fifteen-year-old with 2 million subscribers tell us how to choose the right eyeliner for our eye color.
Knox’s arm was warm and comforting behind me on the back of the couch.
Five minutes into the episode, I heard a soft snore. Knox had his feet propped up on the coffee table and his head pitched back against the cushion. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was open.
I looked at Waylay, and she grinned at me.
Knox snored again, and we both giggled quietly.
THIRTY-ONE
; SHIFTY IN THE STACKS
Naomi
The first week of September steamed into town with summer humidity and the first hint of changing leaves. After a few days of smothering attention, Nash insisted he was well enough for desk duty and returned to work a few hours a day.
The dreadful Mrs. Felch had abruptly announced her retirement and moved to South Carolina to live with her sister. Waylay had a crush on her new teacher, Mr. Michaels, and she’d joined the soccer team. We’d survived our first official interview with the caseworker, and while my niece had made it known she wasn’t a fan of the vegetables I was forcing on her, Ms. Suarez had scheduled the home study, which I took as a hopeful sign.
When I wasn’t cheering from the sidelines or sleeping with Knox or absorbing parenting books, I was working. I’d started my new job at the library and was loving it. Between Honky Tonk and the Community Outreach desk at the library, I felt like I was actually starting to find a groove that was all mine. Especially since most of the town had finally stopped calling me Not Tina.
Naomi,
God, I’m so sorry. I miss you. Things aren’t right here without you. I had no right to take my stress out on you. I was just trying to provide the best life for you. If we would have waited like I’d wanted to none of this would have happened.
Love,
Warner
I exited out of my email inbox with an efficient click and a quiet groan.
“Warner again?” Stef looked up from his laptop. The library was nearly empty today, and my best friend had commandeered the table next to the Community Outreach desk.
“Yes, Warner again,” I said.
“Told you to stop opening them,” Stef said.
“I know. I’m only opening every other one. Progress, right?”
“You’re getting naked with the Viking. You don’t need to be opening another man’s whiny, passive-aggressive, why-aren’t-you-here-to-do-my-laundry emails.”
I winced and looked around to make sure there weren’t any eavesdropping patrons. “Part of me likes seeing him grovel, even passive-aggressively.”
“Fair,” he mused.
“And another more logical part of me realizes that none of this actually matters. The relationship I had with Warner was no more real than the one I’m pretending to have with Knox.”
“Speaking of, you two sure are pretending a lot.”
“I know the score,” I assured him. “Which is more than I can say for when I was with Warner. I didn’t get that Warner didn’t really want to be with me. Knox has been nothing but transparent with his intentions.”
Stef leaned back in his chair to study me.
“What?” I asked, checking to make sure I didn’t have breakfast crumbs on my sweater.
“A woman as gorgeous, smart, and entertaining as you shouldn’t have so many half-assed non-relationships. I’m starting to think the common denominator is you, Witty.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “Real nice, bestie.”
“I’m serious. I pegged Knox and his baggage within thirty seconds of meeting him. But you carry yours closer. Like it’s in an emotional fanny pack.”
“You would never let me wear a fanny pack, emotional or not,” I teased. “When are we going to talk about the fact you still haven’t asked Jeremiah for his number?”
“Never. Besides, he hasn’t asked for mine either.”
The elevator doors opened, and Sloane emerged, pushing a book cart. “How’s it going up here?” Today’s non-librarian-like outfit was slim jeans that ended above the ankles, suede peep-toe booties, and a black sweater with heart-shaped elbow patches. The frames of her glasses were red to match the hearts.
“Not bad. Stef here just accused me of carrying baggage in an emotional fanny pack, and I got Agatha and Blaze an appointment with the pro bono elder law attorney so they can talk about long-term care options for Agatha’s dad,” I said.
Sloane draped herself over the cart and rested her chin in her hands. “First of all, great work with our favorite biker babes. Secondly, Stef with the never-ending witticisms, please tell me you have a straight brother, first cousin, or old nephew. I’m not picky.”
Stef grinned. “Ah, but you are.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Never mind. It’s only fun when you pick on Naomi.”
“You know what they say,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah. If you can’t stand the heat, stay off the second floor of the library.” With that, she disappeared into the stacks with the cart.
A few minutes later, Stef headed out to take a conference call regarding one of his mysterious business deals while I helped burly biker Wraith get an appointment with the closest Social Security office and sent out an email to library patrons about October’s Book or Treat events.
I was just finishing up taking notes on the chapter on puberty in my latest parenting book when someone cleared their throat.
“Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me.”
He had hard green eyes and short, spiky red hair. Tattoos peeked out on the back of his hands from the sleeves of his white button-down. He had a sheepish smile, an expensive-looking watch, and a gold chain around his neck.
There was something strange about the way he was looking at me.
Not that it was unusual. Anyone who had had the misfortune of meeting Tina generally needed a while to adjust to the whole twin thing.
“How can I help?” I asked with a smile.
He tapped the closed laptop under his arm. “I’m looking for someone who can do a little light tech support. This darn thing stopped recognizing my wireless mouse and reading flash drives. Know anyone who can help?”
His eye contact was intense, and it made me a little uncomfortable.
“Well, it definitely wouldn’t be me,” I joked with a forced laugh.
“Me either. My wife’s usually my go-to for stuff like this. But she’s on a business trip, and I can’t wait until she gets back,” he explained. “I just need someone to help me out. They don’t have to be a professional or anything. I’d even be willing to pay a kid.”
Something was off. Maybe I was just hungry. Or maybe my Code Red was coming up. Or maybe this guy stomped litters of kittens for a hobby, and my kinship guardian intuition was reacting.
The only person I knew who fit the bill was Waylay. And I wasn’t about to let someone who gave me the heebie-jeebies anywhere near her.
I flashed him a smile a few degrees warmer than perfunctory. “Gosh. You know what? I’m new in town and I’m just getting my bearings. I don’t know anyone off the top of my head, but if you give me a phone number or email I’ll reach out as soon as I find a resource.”
His index and middle fingers on his left hand drummed lightly on the lid of his laptop. One two. One two. One two.
For some reason, I found myself holding my breath.
“You know what? That would be great,” he said with a warm grin. “Got a pen?”
Relieved, I pushed a Knockemout Public Library notepad across the desk to him and held out a pen. “Here you go.” Our fingers brushed when he took it, and he held my gaze for a beat too long.
Then he smiled again and bent to scrawl a number on the pad. “Name’s Flint,” he said, tapping the pen over his name for emphasis. His eyes skimmed over my name tag. “Naomi.”
I did not like the way he said my name as if he knew me, as if he were already intimately familiar with me.
“I’m sure I’ll be able to find someone to help,” I croaked.
He nodded. “Great. Sooner the better.” Flint picked up the laptop and gave me a once-over. He tossed me a salute. “Later, Naomi.”
“Good-bye.”
I watched him stroll to the stairs. It took me an entire minute to figure out what was bothering me. It was his hands. Specifically, his left hand, which hadn’t sported a wedding ring.
I was just being paranoid. Maybe it was a sign that I was getting better at this guardian thing. I brushed the encounter aside and h
eaded into my tiny office to add Local IT Support to the running list of questions I had for Sloane.
The woman might have been pixie-sized, but she certainly had big ideas about how to expand the library’s services to the community. It was both exciting and interesting to be part of something that was so focused on helping people.
A shadow in my doorway caught my eye.
I jumped and slapped a hand to my chest. “Crap on a cracker, Knox. You scared the hell out of me!”
He leaned against the doorjamb and quirked an eyebrow. “Baby, I don’t wanna tell you how to do your job or anything, but aren’t you supposed to not yell in a library?”
THIRTY-TWO
LUNCH AND A WARNING
Knox
I had things to do. Businesses to run. Employees to yell at. But I wasn’t thinking about all that. I was thinking about her.
And here I was in the library, ignoring everything else because I woke up thinking about her and wanted to see her.
I’d spent a lot of time thinking about Naomi Witt since she blew into town. I was surprised that it only got worse the more time I spent with her.
She looked entirely too pretty today, standing there behind her desk, lost in some mental to do list, wearing a curve-hugging sweater in a ridiculously female pink.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her surprise turning to happiness. She closed the distance between us, stopping just shy of touching me. I liked how she was always leaning toward me, into me. Like her body wanted to be as close to mine as possible at all times. It didn’t feel clingy like I’d always thought it would. It felt…not terrible.
“Thought I’d take you to lunch.”
“Really?” She looked thrilled at the invitation, and I decided I didn’t mind that either. Having a woman like Naomi look at me like I was the hero of her day felt damn good.
“No, Daisy. I just showed up here to mess with you. Yes, really.”