Things We Never Got Over (Knockemout Book 1)

On the way home, I programmed Nina’s dads’ numbers into my shiny, new phone. They were not the first numbers in there. Knox had already programmed contacts for Liza, Honky Tonk, Sherry, Waylay’s school, and Café Rev.

There was even one for himself.

I didn’t know what that said or meant. And frankly, I was too damn tired to worry about it. Especially when I had a bigger problem.

That bigger problem was sitting on the front steps of the cottage with a glass of wine.

“Stay in the truck,” Knox growled.

But I was already halfway out. “It’s fine. I know him.”

Waylay, crammed in the backseat with all our purchases, rolled down her window and stuck her head out. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Stef,” I said.

He put down the wine and opened his arms.

I ran into them. Stefan Liao was the world’s perfect man. He was smart, funny, thoughtful, outrageously generous, and so pretty it hurt to look directly at him. The only son of a real estate-developing father and an app-developing mother, he was born with an entrepreneurial spirit and exquisite taste in everything.

And somehow I’d gotten lucky enough to land him as a best friend.

He swept me up in his arms and twirled me around.

“I’m still incredibly pissed at you,” he said with a grin.

“Thank you for loving me even when you’re pissed,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck and breathing in his expensive cologne.

Just seeing him, hugging him, made me feel more grounded.

“You gonna introduce me to Blondie and the Beast?” Stef asked.

“Not done hugging yet,” I insisted.

“Hurry it up. Beast looks like he wants to shoot me.”

“He’s more of a Viking than a beast.”

Stef tilted my head back with his hands and planted a kiss on my forehead. “It’s all gonna be fine. I promise.”

Tears stung my eyes. I believed him. And the relief I felt from that was enough to release Niagara Falls of tears.

“Where do you want your shit?” Knox growled.

That was enough to dry up Niagara Falls. I spun around and found him standing only a foot away. “Seriously?”

“Got things to do, Daze. Don’t have all night to stand around watching you make out with Henry Golding.”

“Henry Golding? Nice,” Stef said.

“Waylay, come meet my friend,” I called.

High from her shopping, arcade, and burger experience, Waylay forgot to look annoyed.

“Waylay Witt. Knox Morgan. This is Stefan Liao. Stef for short. Way for short. And Leif Erikson when he’s being moody.”

Stef grinned. Knox growled. Waylay admired Stef’s shiny smartwatch.

“The pleasure is all mine. You look like your aunt,” Stef said to Waylay.

“Really?” Waylay looked not too horrified by that statement, and I wondered if my shopping bribery had worked its magic. Score.

Knox, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to dismember Stef.

“What’s your problem?” I mouthed at him.

He glared at me as if I was the one to blame for his sudden mood swing.

“Knox,” Stef said, holding out a hand. “I can’t thank you enough for looking out for my girl here.”

Knox grunted and stared at the offered hand for a beat before shaking it.

The handshake went on longer than necessary.

“Why are their fingers turning white?” Waylay asked me.

“It’s a man thing,” I explained.

She looked skeptical. “Like pooping for forty-five minutes?”

“Yeah, something like that,” I said.

The handshake was finally over, and both men were now locked in a staring contest. If I wasn’t careful, the penises and rulers would be next.

“Knox very graciously took us shopping today,” I explained to Stef.

“He bought me pink sneakers and he bought Aunt Naomi underwear and a phone.”

“Thank you for that information, Way. Why don’t you go inside and not talk anymore?” I suggested, giving her a shove toward the house.

“That depends. Can I have the last ice cream sandwich?”

“It’s yours as long as you stuff it in your mouth instead of talking.”

“Pleasure doing business with you. See ya, Knox!”

He was already halfway back to his truck.

“Don’t leave on my account,” Stef called after him.

Knox didn’t say anything, but I did hear some sort of growl coming from his general direction. “Hang on a second,” I said to Stef. “He’s got the better part of a mall in his back seat, and I don’t want him to drive off with it.”

I caught him just as he was opening his door.

“Knox. Wait!”

“What? I’m busy. I have shit to do.”

“Can you give me one minute to get Waylay’s department store out of your back seat?”

He muttered a few colorful expletives and yanked open the back door. I looped as many bags as I could over my wrists before his frustration took over. He marched all the new stuff to the porch and set it in a pile next to Stef.

“You did get new underwear,” Stef said, sneaking a peek into the Victoria’s Secret bag.

Another low growl emanated from the vicinity of Knox’s chest, and then he was storming back to his truck.

I rolled my eyes and ran after him.

“Knox?”

“Christ, woman,” he said, rounding on me. “Now what?”

“Nothing. Just… Thank you for everything today. It meant the world to Waylay. And me.”

When I turned to leave, his hand shot out and caught my wrist. “Future reference, Daze. My problem is always you.”

I don’t know why I did what I did next, but I did it. I raised on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He was still standing there when Stef and I walked inside with a dozen shopping bags between us.

WITH WAYLAY ASLEEP in a shopping-induced coma, I changed into pajamas and wondered why in the world I’d left my closet doors wide open.

Then decided it had probably been Waylay. I was surprised at the effect an additional human had on a household. Toothpaste tubes were squeezed haphazardly in the middle. Snacks disappeared. And the TV remote was never where I left it.

I closed the closet doors firmly and returned downstairs.

The back door was open, and through the screen, I saw Stef on the porch.

He’d turned my back porch into a citronella candle fantasy land.

“You can’t tell my parents about any of this yet,” I said without preamble as I stepped out onto the porch.

Stef looked up from the tray of fancy meats and cheeses he was organizing on the picnic table. “Why would you even say that? I’m always Team Naomi,” he said

“I know you talk to them.”

“Just because your mom and I have a standing date at the spa every month doesn’t mean I’d rat you out, Witty. Besides, I didn’t tell them I was coming.”

“I just haven’t figured out how to tell them about Waylay. It took me an hour on the phone after I pulled a runaway bride before Mom agreed to still go on the trip. I know if I were to tell them what was going on, they’d be off the boat and on a plane in a second.”

“That does sound like something your parents would do,” he agreed, handing me a glass of wine. The man had brought an entire case with him.

“Your beast wants to devour you like a dozen hot wings.”

I flopped down on the lawn chair next to him. “How is that the first thing you say to me?”

“It’s the most pressing.”

“Not ‘why did you leave Warner at the altar?’ Or ‘what the hell were you thinking answering your sister’s call for help?’”

He propped his long legs on the railing. “You know I never liked Warner.

I was ecstatic when you pulled the disappearing act. I only wish you would have let me in on it.”

“I’m sorry,” I said lamely.

“Stop saying you’re sorry.”

“I’m s—our?”

“You’re the one who has to live your life. Don’t apologize to other people for the decisions you make for yourself.”

My voice of reason best friend. No judgments. No second-guessing. Just unconditional love and support…and the occasional truth bomb. He was one in a billion.

“You’re right. As usual. But I still should have let you know I was pulling a runaway bride.”

“You definitely should have. Although, I did get great pleasure seeing Warner’s mother break the news to him in front of the entire congregation.

Watching them both trying not to freak out to keep their porcelain reputation intact was comedic. Besides, I took one of the groomsmen home.”

“Which one?”

“Paul.”

“Nice. He looked good in his tux,” I mused.

“He looked better out of it.”

“Hey-oh!”

“Speaking of hot sex. Back to the beast.”

I choked on my wine. “There’s no sex happening with the beast. He called me ‘needy’ and ‘uppity’ and a ‘pain in his ass.’ He’s rude. He’s constantly yelling at me or complaining about me. Telling me I’m not his type. As if I wished I were his type,” I scoffed.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because he lives right there,” I said, pointing my glass in the direction of Knox’s cabin.

“Oooh. Grumpy next-door neighbor. That’s one of my favorite tropes.”

“The first time he met me, he called me trash.”

“That bitch.”

“Well, technically he thought I was Tina when he was yelling at me in front of an entire cafe full of strangers.”

“That vision-impaired bitch.”

“God, I love you.” I sighed.

“Back at you, Witty. So, to clarify, you’re definitely not sleeping with the hot, grumpy, tattooed neighbor who took you shopping for underwear and a phone?”

“I am five thousand percent definitely not sleeping with Knox. And he only went shopping with us because there were reports of a man in town looking for me.”

“You’re telling me he’s a grumpy, overprotective hottie next-door and you’re not going to sleep with him? How wasteful.”

“How about instead of talking about Knox, I’ll tell you why I burned rubber out of the church parking lot and ended up homeless in Knockemout?”

“Don’t forget carless,” he added.

I rolled my eyes. “And carless.”

“I’ll get the truffles I hid in your bedroom,” Stef volunteered.

“I really wish you were straight,” I said.

“If I could be straight for anyone, it would be you,” he said, clinking his glass to mine.

“Where did these glasses come from?” I asked, frowning at the barware.

“These are my car wine glasses. I always carry a pair.”

“Of course you do.”

DEAR NAOMI,

Your father and I are having a wonderful time even though you haven’t been updating us on what’s going on in your life. Barcelona was beautiful, but it would have been even more beautiful if we knew our daughter wasn’t spiraling into a depression or some sort of mid-life crisis.

Guilt-tripping over. You should have seen our tour guide, Paolo. Hubba hubba as the kids say. I attached a photo that I took. He’s single if you want me to bring you back a souvenir.

Love,

Mom