by Lucy Score
Maybe I’d told her not to get attached, but I hadn’t done myself the same courtesy. I never thought it was something I had to worry about.
But Naomi Witt, runaway bride and compulsive cleaner, had her hooks in me.
“I did the right thing,” I said again as if repeating it would make it true.
With his eyes on me, Lucian lit his cigarette. “It never occurred to you that the right thing would have been to be the man your father couldn’t be?”
Fuck. That one landed like a bell ringer.
“Go fuck yourself, Lucy.”
“Try to unfuck yourself, Knox.” And with that, he wandered back to the fire, leaving me alone in the dark.
I saw a flash of pink out of the corner of my eye and found Waylay standing a few feet away from me. Waylon sat at her feet.
“Hey, Way,” I said, suddenly feeling like the biggest, stupidest asshole on the planet.
“Hey, Knox.”
“How’s it going?”
She shrugged, those blue eyes fixed on me, her face blank.
“How did soccer practice go? I meant to swing by but—”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend. Aunt Naomi ’n me are used to people not wanting us.”
“Way, that’s not fucking fair. That’s not why things didn’t work out between your aunt and me.”
“Whatever. You probably shouldn’t swear in front of kids. They might learn something from you.”
Ouch.
“I’m serious, kid. You two are too good for me. Sooner or later, you both would have figured it out. You deserve better.”
She looked down at the toes of her boots. Her little heart charm glimmered against her laces, and I realized she wasn’t wearing the sneakers I gave her. That hurt too. “If you really thought that, you’d be working hard to be good enough. Not dumping us like we’re trash.”
“I never said you were trash.”
“You never said much of anything, did you?” she said. “Now, leave Aunt Naomi alone. You’re right. She deserves better than some guy who isn’t smart enough to see how awesome she is.”
“I know how awesome she is. I know how awesome you are,” I argued.
“Not awesome enough to stay though,” she said. The glare she sent me was years beyond eleven in maturity. I hated myself for giving her one more reason to doubt that she was anything but the smart, beautiful, badass she was.
“Waylay! Come on,” Nina called, holding a giant bag of marshmallows aloft.
“You should go,” Waylay told me. “You make Aunt Naomi sad, and I don’t like that.”
“You gonna put field mice in my house?” I asked, hoping a joke would repair some of the damage.
“Why bother? There’s no point in getting revenge on someone too dumb to care.”
She turned and started toward the fire, then stopped again. “I’m keeping your dog,” she said. “Come on, Waylon.”
I watched a kid that I not only liked, but respected, wander off toward the party with my own damn dog. Naomi greeted Waylay with a one-armed hug, and the two of them turned their backs on me.
To be contrary, I snagged one of the hot dogs off the table and a beer. I gave my grandmother a half-assed salute and then headed back to my place alone.
When I got there, I threw both in the trash.
FORTY-THREE
DAY DRINKING
Naomi
Knox: I owe you an apology about last night at Liza’s. I was out of line.
I took a deep breath, turned off my car, and stared at the side door to Honky Tonk. It was my first shift back since The Break-Up, and I was tied up in knots. It was a weekend lunch shift. The odds of Knox actually being inside were in the negative.
But I still needed a pep talk before getting out of the car.
I’d been okay at my other job all week. The library felt like a fresh start and didn’t have memories of Knox around every corner. But Honky Tonk was different.
“You can do this. Get out of the car. Rake in the tip money and smile until your face hurts.”
Knox had thrown his little hissy fit at the bonfire and had to be escorted out by Lucian. I’d done a half-assed job pumping Sloane for information about Lucian’s chivalry. But inside I was reeling from being that close to Knox again.
He’d looked angry and almost hurt. As if me standing next to his brother had been some sort of betrayal. It was laughable. The man had discarded me like an unwanted receipt and had the nerve to tell me I was moving on too fast when all I’d done was give Nash the list I’d been working on about people or incidents that felt off to me.
I looked in the rearview mirror. “You are an Ice Queen Swan,” I told my reflection. Then I got out of the car and marched inside.
Relief coursed through me when I didn’t see him inside. Milford and another line cook were already firing up the kitchen, prepping for the day. I said my hellos and headed into the bar. It was still dark. The stools were stacked, so I turned on the music and the lights and set about getting the place ready.
I’d flipped all the stools, reassembled the soda machine, and was turning on the soup warmer when the side door opened.
Knox stepped inside, his eyes cutting directly to me.
The breath left my chest, and I suddenly couldn’t remember how to inhale.
Damn it. How could a man who’d hurt me so badly look so good? It wasn’t fair. He was wearing jeans and another long-sleeved Henley. This one in a forest green. There was a fading bruise on his chin that made him look like trouble. The sexy, delicious kind of trouble.
But the New Naomi was smarter than that. I wasn’t going back there.
He nodded at me, but I returned my attention to the soup and tried to pretend he didn’t exist. At least until he came too close to ignore.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I repeated, putting the metal lid over the warmer and throwing the plastic wrap away.
“I’m on the bar today,” he said after a moment’s hesitation.
“Okay.” I brushed past him to get to the dishwashing station where two divided trays of clean glasses waited. I hefted one, then found it being snatched from my hands. “I’ve got it,” I insisted.
“Now I’ve got it,” Knox said, carting it up to the soda machine and dropping it on the stainless steel counter.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed the second tray. It, too, was promptly removed from my possession. Ignoring him, I flicked on the heat lamps on the expo line and moved to the POS to check the receipt tape.
I could feel him watching me. His gaze had a weight and temperature to it. I hated being so aware of him.
I could practically feel him skimming me from head to toe. I’d worn jeans today instead of one of my denim skirts, feeling like every layer of protection was necessary.
“Naomi.” His voice was a rough rasp around my name, and it made me shiver.
I glanced at him and gave him my best fake smile. “Yeah?”
He shoved his hand through his hair, then crossed his arms.
“I owe you an apology. Last night—”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s forgotten,” I said, making a show of checking my apron for my bank and notebook.
“This doesn’t have to be…you know. Weird.”
“Oh, it’s not weird for me,” I lied. “It’s all in the past. Water under the bridge. We’re both moving on.”
His eyes looked like molten silver as he stared me down. The air between us was charged with what felt like an impending lightning strike. But I forced myself to hold his gaze.
“Right,” he said with a clench in his jaw. “Fine.”
I didn’t know exactly how much Knox had moved on until an hour into the slowest shift ever. Normally a Saturday lunch shift could be counted on for some kind of business, but the whole seven patrons seemed to be content to sip their beers and chew their food 137 times. Even with the new server, Brad, to train, I had too much time to think.
Rather than hang around
the bar and deal with Knox’s moody stare, I cleaned.
I was scrubbing down the wall next to the service bar, working on a particularly tricky stain, when the front door opened, and a woman walked in. Or strutted. She wore black suede boots with stiletto heels, the kind of jeans that looked as though they’d been painted on, and a cropped leather jacket.
She had a trio of bracelets wrapped around her right wrist. Her nails were painted a gorgeous, murderous red. I made a mental note to ask her what the color was.
Her dark hair was cut short and worn tousled on top. She had cheekbones that could cut glass, an expertly applied smoky eye, and a wry grin.
I wanted to be her friend. To go shopping with her. To find out everything about her so I, too, could retrace her steps and discover that kind of confidence for myself.
That grin widened when she spotted Knox behind the bar, and I suddenly wasn’t sure I wanted to be friends anymore. I snuck a glance at Knox and knew I definitely didn’t want to be friends. Not with the way he was looking at her with affectionate familiarity.
She didn’t say a word, just strolled across the bar, eyes on him. When she got there, she didn’t slide onto a stool and order what I guessed would be the world’s coolest drink. No. She reached across, grabbed him by the shirt, and laid a kiss right on his mouth.
My stomach dropped out of my body and continued to plummet toward the earth’s core.
“Oh, shit,” Wraith groaned from his table.
“Uh, is that the boss’s girlfriend?” Brad, the server I was supposed to be training, asked.
“I guess so,” I said, sounding as if I was being strangled. “I’ll be back. Hold this.” I handed Brad the dirty rag and gave the bar wide berth.
“Naomi!” Knox sounded pissed. But his moods were no longer my concern.
My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears as I headed toward the restroom with every eye in the place on me.
I pretended I didn’t hear him calling my name or her greeting him.
“Knox? Seriously? It’s about damn time,” a throaty voice said.
“Fucking A, Lina. You couldn’t have called first? This is the worst goddamn timing.”
I didn’t hear anything else because I pushed through the restroom door and went straight to the sink. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry, throw up, or pick up the trash can and throw it at Knox’s head. I was trying to get myself under control and considering a plan that would involve all three of my options when the door swung open.
My ex-imaginary friend strolled inside, hands in her back pockets, gaze on me.
I could only imagine what she saw. A pathetic, lovesick, mid-thirties loser with horrible taste in men. That’s what I saw in the mirror every morning before I covered it up with mascara and lipstick.
“Naomi,” she said.
I cleared my throat, hoping to dissolve the lump that had taken up residence there. “That’s me,” I said brightly. It sounded like I was choking on thumbtacks, but at least I’d rearranged my face into a carefully blank expression.
“Wow. Game face. I like it. Good for you,” she said. “No wonder you’ve got his balls tied up in knots.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I pulled a paper towel free and ran it around the perfectly dry, clean counter.
“I’m Lina,” she said, closing the distance between us, her hand outstretched. “Angelina, but I don’t like the mouthful.”
I took the offered hand automatically and shook. “Nice to meet you,” I lied.
She laughed. “No, it isn’t. Not with that first impression. But I’m going to make up for that and buy you a drink.”
“No offense, Lina, but the last thing I want to do is sit down at my ex-boyfriend’s bar to have drinks with his new girlfriend.”
“None taken. But I’m not his new girlfriend. Matter of fact, I’m an ex-ier ex than you are. And we’re definitely not drinking here. We need to go someplace without Knox’s big, dumb ears.”
I really hoped she wasn’t messing with me.
“What do you say?” Lina asked, cocking her head. “Knox is having heart palpitations out there, and every other person is on their phone reporting to the grapevine what just happened. I say we give them all something to freak out over.”
“I can’t just walk out on a shift,” I said.
“Sure you can. We have stories to share. Commiserations to commiserate. Drinks to drink. He’s got that cute little helper out there. He’ll be fine. And you deserve a break after that shit show.”
I took a deep breath and debated. The idea of staying on shift here with Knox was one step below having my toenails ripped out one at a time during a gynecological exam.
“What color is your nail polish?” I asked.
“Burgundy Blood Bath.”
Sloane: Just heard that Knox’s new girlfriend showed up at the bar and they started having sex on the pool table. Are you okay????? Do you need shovels and tarps?
Me: I’ve been kidnapped by new girlfriend who is actual old ex-girlfriend. We’re daydrinking at Hellhound.
Sloane: Let me find some pants! Be there in fifteen!
Hellhound was a biker bar fifteen minutes out of town heading in the direction of D.C. Outside, the parking lot was half full of motorcycles. The crap brown clapboard siding didn’t do anything to make the place look more welcoming.
Inside, the lights were dim, the pool tables were plentiful, and Rob Zombie music thudded from a jukebox in the corner. The bar was sticky, and I had to quash the urge to ask for a sponge and some Pine-Sol.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked. He wasn’t smiling, but he also wasn’t overly intimidating. He was the tall, burly type with gray hair and a beard. He wore a leather vest over a white long-sleeved tee. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows to reveal tattoos down both arms.
They made me think of Knox. Which made me want alcohol.
“What’s your name, handsome?” Lina asked, settling on a stool.
“Joel.”
“Joel, I’ll have your best scotch. Make it a double,” she decided.
Damn it. I knew she’d order a cool drink.
“You got it. For you, darlin’?” He looked at me.
“Oh. Uh. I’ll have a white wine,” I said, feeling like the least interesting person in the bar.
He winked at me. “Comin’ right up.”
“He’s no Knox, but I dig the silver fox thing,” Lina mused.
My hum was noncommittal.
“Oh, come on. Even if Knox is a shithead—which he is—you can still appreciate the very fine exterior,” Lina insisted.
I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate anything about the Viking who’d trampled my heart.
Silver Fox Joel plopped our drinks in front of us and left again.
“What are we doing here?” I asked.
Lina lifted her glass. “Having drinks. Getting to know each other.”
“Why?”
“Because you didn’t see the look on Knox’s face right after I laid that closed-mouth kiss on him.”
Close-mouthed was good.
Wait.
No. It didn’t matter.
Even if Lina wasn’t with Knox, he’d dumped me. I didn’t need to concern myself with competition.
I ran my finger around the rim of my glass. “What happened to his face?”
She pointed an index finger at me. “Fear. I’ve known that man since he was barely a man, and I’ve never seen him scared. But I saw fear when he watched you walk away.”
I sighed. I didn’t want to hear that. I didn’t want to pretend that there was hope where there was none. “I don’t know why he’d be afraid of me walking away. He’s the one who already did the walking.”
“Let me guess. It wasn’t you. It was him. He doesn’t do relationships or complications or responsibilities. There’s no future, and he’s letting you go so you can get on with yours.”
I blinked. “You do know him.”
“I’ll have
you know I hold the impressive title of first official non-girlfriend, thank you very much. It was my junior year in college. He was twenty-four. We met at a party, and it lasted four glorious, hormone- and hangover-filled weeks before the idiot got cold feet and handed me my walking papers.”
“Judging by your greeting, I’m guessing things ended better for you than they did for me.”
Lina smiled and took a sip of scotch. “He underestimated my stubbornness. See, I could do without him as a boyfriend. But I wanted to keep him around as a friend. So I forced him into a friendship. We talk every couple of months. Before he hit that lottery, we’d meet up every couple of years. Always someplace neutral. We’d play wingman for each other.”
I downed the wine in three big gulps. Before I even put the glass down on the bar, another one arrived.
“Thanks, Joel.” I traded the empty glass for the full one. “What’s his problem, anyway?”
Lina snorted and sipped again. “What’s anyone’s problem? Baggage. People meet, sparks fly, then they spend all their time trying to hide who they really are so they can stay attractive. Then we’re surprised when it doesn’t work out.”
She had a point.
“If everyone just introduced themselves with their baggage, imagine how much time we’d save. Hi, I’m Lina. I have daddy issues and a jealous streak combined with a temper that means you should never cross me. Also, I’ve been known to eat an entire tray of brownies in one sitting and I never fold laundry.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Your turn,” she said.
“Hi, Lina. I’m Naomi and I keep falling for guys who don’t see a future with me. But I keep hoping the future I’m envisioning for the both of us will be good enough to keep them around. Also, I hate my twin sister, and it makes me feel like a bad person. Oh, and Knox Morgan ruined orgasms for me for the rest of my life.”
It was Lina’s turn to laugh. Another scotch appeared in front of her. “This guy knows what’s up,” she said, pointing to our bartender friend.
“Two ladies come into this place talking about the same man, and Imma keep the drinks coming,” he assured us.