Things We Never Got Over (Knockemout Book 1)

“You don’t have to come along, you know,” I pointed out. “You didn’t get much sleep in the last forty-eight hours.”

“Neither did you,” Knox said, making a show of locking up the cabin before we left. I knew he was making a point.

I didn’t like people who made points. At least not before I’d had my coffee.

We made the short walk to Liza’s in silence. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and my mind was spinning like a dryer with a lopsided load.

We’d slept together. As in fell asleep in the same bed without having sex together. Not only that, but I’d woken up with Knox “Viking” Morgan spooning me.

I didn’t know much about no strings. Hell, I had so many strings attached to so many things, I’d been tied up in knots for most of my adult life. But even I knew that sharing a bed and cuddling was way too intimate for what we’d both agreed to.

I mean, don’t get me wrong. Waking up with Knox’s hard—and I do mean hard—body at my back, his arm draped heavily over my waist was one of the best ways in the world to wake up.

But it wasn’t part of the agreement. There was a reason for rules. Rules would keep me from falling for the grumpy, cuddly Viking.

I chewed on my lower lip.

Men got tired and didn’t want to walk women home or let women walk home alone only to be eaten by wildlife. The man had gone through a traumatic twenty-four hours. He probably wasn’t making the most rational decisions, I decided. Maybe Knox was just a restless sleeper. Maybe he spooned his dog in bed every night.

Of course, that didn’t explain why he’d volunteered to run next door and grab a bunch of my stuff while I showered. Why he’d put actual thought into an outfit for me. I glanced down at the high-waisted green and white shorts, the cute lacy top. He’d even grabbed underwear for me. Sure, it was a thong and didn’t match my bra. But still.

“’Bout done thinking everything to death?”

I shook myself from my reverie to find Knox shooting me one of those almost smiles.

“I was just running through my to do list,” I fibbed haughtily.

“Sure you were. Can we go in now?”

I realized we were standing in front of Liza’s house. The smell of Stef’s World Famous Maple Bacon wafted through the screen door.

There was a single woof followed by a chorus of barks as four dogs barreled through the door and off the porch.

Waylon was last, ears flapping behind him, tongue lolling obscenely from his mouth.

“Hey, bud,” Knox said, dropping to his knees to greet his dog and the other three as they jumped and yapped their enthusiasm.

I bent down and exchanged more dignified greetings with the pack before straightening.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” I asked him.

Knox gave Waylon’s ears a last ruffle. “What plan?”

“Breakfast? With my family?” I prodded.

“Well, Daze, I don’t know about you, but my plan is to guzzle half a pot of coffee, chow down on some bacon, and then go back to bed for another four or five hours.”

“I mean, are we still…you know…pretending?”

Something passed over his face that I couldn’t read.

“Yeah. We’re still pretending,” he said finally.

I didn’t know if I was relieved or not.

Inside, we found Liza and my dad standing sentry behind Stef as he peered into the oven at two baking sheets of bacon that smelled like heaven.

Mom was setting the table in the sun-room. Waylay was making her way around the table, still in her new, pink tie-dye pajamas, carefully pouring glasses of orange juice.

I felt a swift rush of affection for her and then remembered I had to come up with a suitable punishment for her today. I really needed to get to the discipline chapter in my library book.

“Mornin’, lovebirds. Didn’t expect to see you here, Knox,” Liza said, spotting us as she shuffled over to the coffee maker in a blue fuzzy robe over lightweight camouflage pajamas.

Knox draped an arm around my shoulders. “Mornin’,” he returned. “I couldn’t pass up the bacon.”

“No one can,” Stef said, pulling the trays out of the oven and setting them on the two cooling racks I’d discovered hidden behind the hutch in Liza’s dining room.

Waylay padded in on bare feet and sniffed with suspicion. “Why’s it smell weird?”

“First of all, gorgeous, you smell weird,” Stef said, giving her a wink.

“Secondly, that’s the caramelized maple syrup.”

Waylay perked up. “I like syrup.” Her eyes slid to me. “Mornin’, Aunt Naomi.”

I ran my hand through her messy blonde hair. “Morning, kiddo. Did you have fun with your grandparents last night, or did they make you scrub the floors?”

“Me and Grandma and Uncle Stef watched The Princess Bride. Grandpa fell asleep before the shrieking eels,” she said. “Am I still grounded?”

Mom opened her mouth, looked at me, then shut it again.

“You are,” I decided. “For the weekend.”

“Can we still go to the library?”

I was new at this discipline thing, but I figured the library was safe enough. “Sure,” I yawned.

“Someone needs her coffee,” Mom sang. “Late night?” She looked pointedly at Knox and then winked at me.

“You know where else you two should go today?” Dad said. Now that the bacon was safely out of the oven, he was peering over Liza’s shoulder as she flipped an omelet.

“Where?” I asked warily.

He turned to look at me. “Car shopping. You need a car.” Dad said it with authority as if the idea of getting a car had somehow never occurred to me.

“I know, Dad. It’s on the list.”

It was on a literal list. A spreadsheet actually, comparing makes and models ranked by reliability, gas mileage, and cost.

“You and Waylay need something reliable,” he continued. “You can’t get around on bikes forever. It’ll be winter before you know it.”

“I know, Dad.”

“If you need money, your mother and I can help out.”

“Your father’s right, dear,” Mom said, handing Knox a cup of coffee and the second to me. She was wearing plaid pajama shorts and a matching button-down top.

“I don’t need any money. I have money,” I insisted.

“We’ll go this afternoon,” Dad decided.

I shook my head. “That’s not necessary.” I hadn’t finished my spreadsheet yet and I was not walking on a car lot without knowing exactly what I wanted and what it was worth.

“We’ve already got plans to look at cars today,” Knox announced.

Crabby Viking says what? Car shopping plans were news to me. And unlike having a boyfriend, the purchase of a car wasn’t nearly as easy to fake for my parents.

He drew me into his side. It was a possessive move that both confused me and turned me on. “Figured I’d take Naomi and Waylay to look for a ride,” he said.

Dad harrumphed.

“I get to come too?” Waylay asked, climbing up on her knees on the barstool.

“Well, since it’s our car, you have to help me decide,” I told her.

“Let’s get a motorcycle!”

“No,” my mother and I answered together.

“Well, I’m getting one as soon as I’m old enough.”

I closed my eyes, trying to ward off all the catastrophes that rolled through my mind like a high school driver’s ed filmstrip. “I’ve changed my mind. You’re grounded until you’re thirty-five.”

“I don’t think you can legally do that,” Waylay said.

“Sorry, Witty. I’m with the kid on this one,” Stef said, leaning on his elbows next to her at the island. He broke a piece of bacon in half and handed one piece to my niece.

“Gotta vote with Way,” Knox said, squeezing my shoulder, one of those sort-of smiles dancing at the corners of his lips. “You can only ground her until she’s eighteen.”

Waylay punched a fist into the air victoriously and took a bite of bacon.

“Fine. You’re grounded until you’re eighteen. And no fair ganging up on me,” I complained.

“Uncle Stef,” Waylay said, her eyes going wide and solemn. “This is the best bacon I’ve ever had in my life.”

“I told you,” Stef said triumphantly. He slapped a hand onto the counter.

The dogs, mistaking the noise for a knock, raced to the front door in a fit of barking.

“Got some news,” Liza announced. “Nash is coming home.”

“That’s awfully soon, isn’t it?” I asked. The man had two bullet holes in him. It seemed like that deserved more than a few days in the hospital.

“He’s going stir-crazy cooped up in there. He’ll do better at home,” Liza predicted.

Knox nodded in agreement.

“Well, that means his place will need a good cleaning. Can’t have germs getting in bullet wounds now, can we?” Mom said as if she knew people who got shot every day.

“Probably need some food too,” Dad chimed in. “Bet everything in his fridge is rotten. I’ll start a list.”

Liza and Knox exchanged confounded looks. I grinned.

“It’s the Witt Way,” I explained. “It’s best to just go with it.”

“I SLEPT with Knox twice in the last forty-eight hours and then I slept with him slept with him last night. And I don’t know how much of it’s a mistake.

And it was just supposed to be one time and definitely no sleeping, but he keeps changing the rules on me,” I blurted out to Stef.

We were on Liza’s front porch, waiting for Waylay to get her stuff so we could go back to the cottage and get ready for premature car shopping. It was the first time I’d gotten him alone since The Sex…and subsequent arrival of my parents.

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.