Knox KOBO Page 6

  “You don’t seem all that relaxed to me, son,” Cass said. “How are you going to occupy yourself while you wait on that Indian part to arrive? I guess you might go stir-crazy.”

  Knox looked toward the older man, his brows rising. “You have something in mind, Cass? I wish I could claim something beyond the most rudimentary of skills when it comes to motorcycle repair. I don’t think I’d be much help to you in the shop.”

  The older man seemed to consider, his right hand rubbing at his chin. “I could give you a break on the bill if you do some other work I’ve been putting off.”

  Erin had the impression that money wasn’t Knox’s number one worry. But she saw her dad had kindled his interest. “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “I promised Erin I’d paint the locker rooms at her studio. It should take you a day or so for prep and two coats.”

  “Dad!” she protested. “I can do that.”

  “I promised to do it for your birthday.” He rubbed his right palm over the knuckles of the other hand. “But with the arthritis acting up…”

  “It can wait,” she said.

  “I’d like it done now. Knox?”

  The younger man glanced at Erin. “Uh…”

  “It’s either that or you can shampoo those five dogs I have out back,” her father said, straight-faced. “But I warn you—they don’t like water. Or getting clean neither.”

  Before Erin could release the bubble of startled laughter rising in her throat, Knox held out his hand to her father. “Done.”

  They shook. “Deal,” her father rumbled.

  “I was bitten by a beagle as a wee lad,” Knox told Erin the next day, standing beside the old VW van he’d apparently borrowed from her father and driven to her studio. It was Sunday afternoon, and her classes were over for the day. “I couldn’t chance it.”

  She rolled her eyes. Wee lad. He was so full of it. “If you’d walked outside like I asked, I could have proved the yard is completely empty. There is no pack. Dad owns zero dogs.”

  He reached inside the van for a bucket filled with a new paint roller, a couple of brushes, and packaged drop cloths that he then pushed into Erin’s hands. “Take these, will you?”

  His fingers curled around the handles of a primer and a paint can.

  “Have you considered I might not want to paint today?” she asked.

  “You’re not painting today.” He set the cans on the ground at his feet to pull the vehicle’s sliding door shut. From his back pocket, he withdrew a lightweight cap emblazoned with the logo of a big box hardware store that he settled backward on his head.

  Erin sighed. He should have looked ridiculous. Why didn’t he look ridiculous? Instead, with that cocky grin he beamed her way, he was the rakish bad boy whose heart every girl dreamed of capturing.

  “I’m going to paint. You, darlin’, are going to do whatever you do on Sunday afternoons.”

  “Fine,” she muttered, stomping toward the entrance to the studio. He could ply the brushes and the roller, and she’d go upstairs and attend to…to…

  Something that would put him from her mind. Something that would keep her away from him.

  Inside, she showed him to the male and female locker areas, with their metal cabinets and long benches. Each had a door leading to a restroom.

  Knox set down his cans to survey the situation, his hands on his hips. “Okay. I’m gonna wash down the walls first. Then apply a primer coat. I’ll finish with the paint color you selected.”

  “Fine. Sure.” She dumped an armful of paint supplies onto a bench, then added for politeness sake, “Don’t hesitate to yell if you have any questions. I’ll be right upstairs.”

  He didn’t spare her a glance. “I’ve got this. You enjoy the rest of the afternoon.”

  Feeling dismissed and stupidly miffed by it, Erin headed to her living quarters. Today, for the first time, he hadn’t gotten too close. There’d been no accidental touches. Not a single time had she caught him looking at her mouth.

  Apparently lacking any encouragement on her part—hadn’t she’d told him she didn’t do one-night stands?—the mutual attraction had sputtered out.

  Not that she didn’t continue to find him incredibly appealing. Even in an old, grease-stained T-shirt advertising Mickey’s Motorcycle Sales & Repair, jeans, and beat-up running shoes, he exuded a masculine charisma that went beyond his handsome features, broad shoulders, and long legs. It was an innate confidence that told a woman he’d be good at everything he attempted—surfing waves, painting walls, having sex.

  In her kitchen, she prepared a tall glass of ice water and poured it down her throat, hoping to cool herself, or at least drown her overactive hormones. In the distance, she heard Knox begin to whistle, a man without a care in the world.

  She tried not to grind her teeth while she puttered, wiping countertops and inspecting the contents of her fridge.

  Then, after pouring herself a second glass of water, she decided Knox might be thirsty, too. Rather than putting herself into one of the too-small rooms with him, she propped open the door at the top of the stairs and yelled down to him. “Knox? Would you like something to drink?”

  Not long after, footsteps clattered on the hardwood treads as he ascended. He crossed the threshold and looked around her kitchen. “So this is how it works. You have a staircase from here to your studio.”

  She nodded. “I have another entrance on the other side of the house that doesn’t require going through the class space.”

  “Nice. Mind if I look around?”

  Shaking her head, she reached for a glass and filled it with ice and water. Then she tracked him down in her adjacent living area. It was a generous size, with a white-washed fireplace and wide windows that looked across the highway toward the ocean. Beyond it, a short hall led to two bedrooms, each with its own attached bath.

  “Here,” she said, presenting him with the glass.

  He took it, tipping back his head to down the contents in one go.

  Mesmerized, Erin watched the muscles work in his tanned throat. As he caught a last, errant drop on his bottom lip with the back of his hand, his gaze met hers.

  “What?” he asked.

  Did she look like a guppy, her mouth hanging open and her eyes bulging? Instead of answering, she snatched the empty glass from his hand and returned it to the kitchen. But when he didn’t follow her there—and then head back down the stairs as she’d hoped—she was forced to return to his side.

  Now he appeared to be scrutinizing the ladder shelf set against one wall. “This is nice,” he said over his shoulder, indicating the wooden piece. It was shaped like an inverted V, with five horizontal lengths of wood upon which she’d arranged photos, shells, and other mementos. “Especially this.” One long finger ran along the natural edge on the supporting posts. “It’s almost lacy. Lightens the whole thing.”

  The compliment pleased her. “My friends’ husbands made it for me for Christmas.”

  “They work with wood?”

  “They work with numbers. But they make furniture on the side.”

  Now Knox picked up one of the framed photographs. “This has to be your mother.”

  “Yes.” The young woman pictured wore a circlet of flowers in her hair and a peasant-style white dress. “On her wedding day.” Before he could ask, she found herself adding, “She’s gone, though.”

  He glanced at her. “I’m sorry. Your mom died?”

  “Oh, no.” Shame washed over her, as it always did when she had to explain this. “She left me and my dad a long time ago. As far as I know she’s alive and well.”

  Knox carefully placed the photo back on the shelf. “Ah.”

  Apparently I’m remarkably easy to walk away from. “I was a toddler when she took off, leaving nothing but a note behind. She’d been backpacking cross-country when she met my dad and on an impulse married him in Las Vegas after a two-day acquaintance.”

  “Well.” Knox’s eyebrows rose. “Cass must have been
smitten.”

  “It seems so. He says she was a light-hearted free spirit, always up for a party or anything new. And then…” Erin shrugged.

  “And then?”

  She shrugged again. “I guess motherhood became a drag for the free spirit. No fun at all.”

  Knox’s expression softened and he moved closer to Erin, close enough that if she had all the time in the world she could count every one of his lush lashes. “You don’t hear from her?”

  “On occasion I get cards.”

  “Yeah?” He reached out to cup her cheek in his broad hand and traced her skin with the edge of his thumb. “Why does that make you cry?”

  Lifting her hand, she felt the wetness on her face. Mortified, she stepped away from his touch and wiped away the unexpected moisture. “I didn’t realize…I don’t know…”

  “Erin?” he asked, his voice gentle.

  “Sometimes she remembers to send me birthday cards,” she said, the words bursting forth from some hidden place where she’d bottled them. “This is not one of those years.”

  “Oh, darlin’.” Knox reached toward her again, this time stroking her hair. “Are you disappointed or are you worried?”

  “A little of both, I suppose,” she said, then wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s stupid. I’m stupid. You’d think I’d grow up sometime and accept she’s just not that interested in having a daughter. In me.”

  Without another word, he gathered her in his arms. Erin jerked back, but he only tightened his hold. After a moment she surrendered, setting her forehead against his shoulder.

  “I’m an idiot,” she told the cotton of his shirt.

  “You’re not stupid, and you’re not an idiot. In fact, you’re successful, beautiful, and kind to strangers who show up on your doorstep looking for help. Not knowing you, not being around you, is your mother’s loss.”

  As she squeezed shut her eyes to hold back more tears, her embarrassment intensified. Did he think she’d been fishing for compliments? “Promise me you’ll forget the last few minutes, Knox. I’m usually much more together than this. Actually, I’m usually very together. Inner harmony is sort of my thing.”

  “You get to be human on occasion, yoga girl.”

  She felt a light pressure on the top of her head. Had he kissed her there?

  Erin looked up. His dark eyes stared into hers, and her pulse scrambled again. Her inner harmony jangled like her nerves, all discordant notes that seemed to crash into each other in the pit of her belly.

  “What is this?” she whispered. She couldn’t believe she’d confided in him. “What are you doing to me?”

  His arms slowly fell away and he stepped away. “I’m not doing my job,” he said. “I better get back to the locker rooms.”

  “Yes.” She pulled in a long breath, trying to clear out her confusion. “I…”

  He was already halfway across the floor. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Except she wasn’t ready to let him go, even though she knew it was for the best. Safest. The smart thing for the driver of one’s own life to allow. “Never mind.”

  Knox headed for the stairway, and she trailed him at a safe distance. But before he could reach the door—still propped open—she heard noise on the stair treads. Footsteps.

  “Hello?” a voice called out. “Erin?”

  Deanne and Marissa bustled into the kitchen, then abruptly—almost comically—skidded to a halt when they took in the sight of a man in her home.

  “Uh…” Her redheaded friend’s eyes widened as her gaze stayed glued to Knox. “Hello there.”

  Charm came to him so effortlessly. With a smile, he moved forward and held out his hand. “Knox Brannigan.”

  “I’m Deanne Farmer.” She shook his hand then moved aside to indicate her companion. “This is my sister-in-law.”

  “Marissa,” Knox supplied. “Good to meet you. And wow, pregnant women really do glow.”

  Deanne’s eyes bugged out, and she shot Erin a look as Marissa beamed and shook hands with Knox.

  “You flatter me,” Marissa said.

  “Call ‘em as I see ‘em,” he replied. “I hope that’s a girl in there so she has a chance to inherit her mom’s beauty.”

  Marissa put her hands on her bulging belly. “Thank you,” she said with another smile, and Erin could almost guarantee that at this moment she wasn’t feeling like anything close to a cow.

  Deanne cleared her throat. “So…I remember we saw you at the Moonstone Café. Are you new in town?”

  Of course she had to be curious. Erin assumed Marissa had passed on what she’d told her yesterday morning—that she and Knox had gone their separate ways.

  “His motorcycle broke down,” Erin explained for him. “And it’s at Dad’s. It’s going to take a few days before it’s ready to ride again.”

  “Oooh,” Marissa said. “Stuck in a small town, hmm?”

  Erin nearly clocked her, pregnant or not. Her imaginative friend was doing it again, casting her and Knox in another movie. “Stuck in a Small Town,” part of the Love, Unexpected movie marathon weekend.

  “And likely looking for something to pass the time,” Deanne added, with a new gleam in her eye.

  Uh-oh. Erin gave the redhead a swift once-over. She appeared up to something. “Why are you two here?” she asked.

  When Deanne sent a speculative glance at Knox, she jumped in before the woman could answer. “Never mind that right now. Knox, do you need anything before you head down?”

  “Not a thing,” he said, then turned to Deanne. “How I’m passing the time, you see, is painting Yoga Girl’s locker rooms.”

  “How nice,” Marissa said, clasping her hands beneath her breasts. “You need a reward.” Her eyes cut to her sister-in-law.

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” Deanne said. “We dropped by to invite Erin to an impromptu dinner at my place tonight, but now we must include you as well.”

  Erin opened her mouth to refuse for him. Surely he wouldn’t want to attend. He’d feel out of place. Like an afterthought.

  Like a charity invite because he had no other better place to be.

  Just as she felt so often, the fifth wheel to their tight foursome.

  But not tonight, something whispered in her head. Not tonight with Knox by your side.

  “I’d be delighted,” he said, before Erin could shush that dangerous voice and dredge up all her objections.

  And despite knowing she’d pledged to keep her distance from him, she had to admit to a smidgeon of delight at the idea of the dinner, too.

  Chapter 5

  Knox paced the perimeter of his utilitarian motel room, killing time before Erin picked him up for the evening with her friends. The gray-brown color of the walls was as dismal as his mood, now that he didn’t have a task to keep him busy and no company but his own thoughts. Thank God for the painting job, or he would have had to be elbows-deep in imaginary soap bubbles washing imaginary guard dogs.

  Yeah, he’d jumped on that bargain with Erin’s dad, Cass, knowing full well there were no vicious—or otherwise—canines. But he’d wanted to do a good turn for the older man…and for Erin, too. Though he knew not to start anything with her, she was still a strong pull for him.

  Stronger now, actually, since he’d glimpsed the inner vulnerability hidden beneath her purported inner harmony.

  Still, he would continue to resist, remembering she didn’t do one-night stands. She didn’t want the only thing he could give her…a fleeting interlude.

  The phone he’d purchased that day to replace his broken device buzzed in his pocket. Knox pulled it free and accepted the call, glad of the distraction. “Luke!”

  “Hey.”

  Knox’s gut clenched, just for a moment, the timbre of his brother’s voice sounding so like their father’s. He swallowed. “Hey back. How are you?”

  “I’m good. Great, as a matter of fact.”

  “And how’s your beautiful trouble?” Knox asked.

  �
�My what?”

  “You don’t remember? That’s how you described Lizzie to me soon after you re-made her acquaintance.”

  Luke laughed. “So I did. Now she’s just beautiful…and engaged to be my wife.”

  Knox blinked. Gabe was married, Hunter had taken the plunge and popped the question, and now Luke? “Wow. Best wishes and all that. When did this come about?”

  “I asked her on New Year’s Eve. Kaitlyn helped me arrange a romantic setting in one of the private cabins. She got a kick out of being in on the proposal, I think.”

  “Sure she did. And Lizzie’s the guardian of her orphaned niece, right? This whole husband thing means not only are you going to have a wife, but Kaitlyn will become your teenage daughter, too.”

  “I hope I’m good with both.”

  “A guy like you? Who hangs off cliffs by your fingernails? Marriage and fatherhood will be a piece of cake.”

  “Dad didn’t give us much of a role model to go by.”

  “But he gave you the resort,” Knox said, to avoid the subject of Colin Brannigan, “and by extension, the woman of your dreams.”

  “He gave you a vintage Indian motorcycle, I understand.”

  “I’m staggered,” Knox said, feigning shock. “One of the Brannigan brothers actually reads the Brannigan email chain.”

  “Shut up, little brother.” Luke hesitated. “You’ve also left home?”

  “With my earthly goods in a bandanna tied to a stick I slung over my shoulder.”

  “Stop being a smartass. We’re worried about you, heading off with no particular destination in mind.”

  “Says the guy who’s chased adventure all around the world.”

  “Okay,” Luke said, sounding sheepish. “There is that. But globetrotting was never your dream.”

  “Maybe I’m out looking for mine now.” He stared out the motel room window into the parking lot, a gloomy dusk descending. “I didn’t get far if you want to know the truth. The Indian is in for repairs.”

  “Already? And you found someone who can work on a rare vintage bike?”