Things We Never Got Over (Knockemout Book 1)

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 headed 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?”