Things We Never Got Over (Knockemout Book 1)

I threaded the stem of the earring through my lobe and leaned back to admire the effect.

“What do you think?” I asked Waylay, who was sprawled across my bed on her stomach, chin pillowed in her hands.

She studied the earrings. “Better,” she decided. “They sparkle like Honky Tonk on your shirt and they stand out more when you toss your hair.”

“I don’t toss my hair,” I said, ruffling hers. My niece was more and more willing to tolerate affection from me these days.

“Oh, yes, you do. Whenever you catch Knox looking at you, you’re all…” She paused to shake out her blonde hair and bat her eyes.

“I do not!”

“Do so.”

“I’m the adult and I’m in charge and I say I don’t,” I insisted, flopping down on the bed next to her.

“You also get this mushy face whenever he walks into a room or you get a text from him.”

“Oh, is it like the mushy face you make whenever someone says Mr.

Michaels’s name?” I teased.

Waylay’s face transformed into what could aptly be described as mushy.

“Ha! See! That is a mushy face,” I said, pointing accusingly at her.

“You wish,” she scoffed, still smiling. “Can I use some of your hair spray since you messed up my hair?”

“Sure,” I said.

She slipped off the bed and picked up the can I left on the dresser.

“Are you sure you packed everything you need?” I asked, eying the pink duffel bag in the doorway. Waylay was invited to Nina’s birthday sleepover.

It was the first time she’d be spending the night with a non-family member, and I was feeling the nerves.

“I’m sure,” she said. Her tongue poked out between her teeth as she carefully brushed her hair over her forehead just so before hitting it with a shot of spray.

“I’m working the closing shift tonight, so if you decide you don’t want to spend the night you can just call Grandma and Grandpa or Liza or Knox, and one of them will come pick you up.”

She crossed her eyes at me in the mirror. “Why wouldn’t I want to spend the night? It’s a sleepover.” She was already dressed in pajamas, a request on the invitation. But she was wearing the pink sneakers Knox had given her with the ever-present heart charm.

“I just want you to know that no matter what, you can always call, and someone will be there,” I said. “Even when you’re older.”

I cleared my throat, and Waylay put down the hair spray.

“What?” she asked, turning around to face me.

“What what?” I hedged.

“You always clear your throat before you say something you think someone isn’t going to like.”

Damn astute kid. “Have you heard from your mom?”

She looked down at her feet. “No. Why?”

“Someone said she was in town not too long ago,” I said.

“She was?” Waylay frowned like the news was disturbing.

I nodded. “I didn’t talk to her.”

“Does this mean she’s going to take me back?” she asked.

I started to clear my throat then stopped. I didn’t know how to answer that. “Is that something you’d like?” I asked instead.

Waylay was staring hard at her shoes now. “I’m okay here with you,” she said finally.

I felt the tension release from my shoulders. “I like having you with me.”

“You do?”

“I do. Even if your hair tossing impression of me is terrible.”

She grinned then stopped. “She always comes back.”

It sounded different when she said it this time. It sounded more like a warning.

“We’ll figure that out when we have to,” I told her. “Let’s get you to your sleepover. Are you sure you packed your toothbrush?”

“Geez, Aunt Naomi! This isn’t my first sleepover!”

“Okay. Okay! What about underwear?”

ME: How’s Paris?

Stef: I drank too much champagne and danced with a man named Gaston.

So pretty fucking great. But I still miss you and the fam.

Me: We miss you too.

Stef: Any drama happening that you “forgot” to tell me about?

Me: It’s so nice that you don’t hold a grudge. And no. No drama to report except Waylay is going to a sleepover.

Stef: Does that mean you’ll be having your own sleepover? If so, wear the teddy I sent you! It’ll melt Knox’s mind! Oops. Gotta go. Gaston is beckoning!

HONKY TONK on a Friday night was a rowdy time. The crowds were big, the music loud, and no one cared if they were hungover in the morning, so the drink orders were plentiful.

I swept my hair up off the back of my neck as I waited for Max to finish keying in an order.

“Where’s Knox tonight?” Silver called from behind the bar.

“Out with Lucian,” I yelled back over “Sweet Home Alabama.” The band was decent, but they were drowned out by the crowd singing over them. “He said he’d come by later.”

Max moved away from the POS and started throwing drinks on trays.

“Tips are good tonight,” she said.

“Sounds like it could be a shots night,” I said with an eyebrow wiggle.

“There’s a new guy in your section,” Max said, pointing to the wall on the far side of the dance floor. “How’s the sleepover going?”

“Way messaged me to tell me to stop messaging her, and Gael sent me a picture of the girls doing mani-pedis and face masks,” I told her. “She looks like she’s having the time of her life.”

I dropped off two fresh beers at a table of equestrians and gave a quick hello to Hinkel McCord and Bud Nickelbee on my way across the bar.

I caught a glimpse of the new patron. He’d angled his chair against the wall, half in shadow. But I could still make out his red hair. The guy from the library. The one who had asked about tech support.

I felt a nervous tickle at the back of my neck. Maybe he lived in Knockemout. Maybe I was overthinking it, and he was just a regular person with a broken laptop who liked a cold beer on a Friday night.

And maybe he wasn’t.

“Here you go, guys,” I said, doling out drinks to a four-top that had turned into a six-top.

“Thanks, Naomi. And thank you for hooking my aunt up with that home health organization,” said Neecey, the gossipy waitress from Dino’s.

“My pleasure. Hey, does anyone know that guy along the back wall?” I asked.

Four heads swiveled in unison. Knockemout wasn’t much for subtlely.

“Can’t say he looks familiar,” Neecey said. “That red hair sure stands out.

I feel like I’d remember him if I met him.”

“Is he giving you trouble, Nay?” Wraith demanded, looking deadly serious.

I forced a laugh. “No. I just recognized him from the library. I didn’t know if he was a local.”

I suddenly wished Knox was here.

Two seconds later, I was really glad he wasn’t. Because this time when the front door opened, I prayed for the floor to open up and swallow me.

“Now who the hell is that dandy?” Wraith wondered out loud.

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no,” I whispered.

Warner Dennison the Third was scanning the bar, an expression of derision on his handsome face.

I thought about turning around and hightailing it for the kitchen. But it was too late. He locked eyes with me, not bothering to hide his surprise.

“Naomi,” he called just as the band cut off their song.

Heads turned to look at me and then back at Warner.

I stayed rooted to the spot, but he was on the move, weaving his way through tables to get to me.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

“Me? What the hell are you doing in a place like this? And what are you wearing?” he said, reaching for me. His hands gripped my biceps like he was going to pull me in for an embrace, but I resisted.

“I work here,” I said, planting a hand firmly on his chest.

A motorcycle revved its engine outside, and he flinched. “Not anymore,”

Warner said. “This is ridiculous. You made your point. You’re coming home.”

“Home?” I managed a dry laugh. “Warner, I sold my house. I live here now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You’re coming home with me.”

Not wanting to cause a scene, I gave up trying to extricate myself from his grasp. “What are you talking about? We’re not together anymore.”

“You ran out on our wedding then ignored my calls and emails for weeks.

You wanted to make a point and you made it.”

“What point exactly do you think I was making?”

His nostrils flared, and I noticed the clench of his jaw. He was getting upset, and it turned my stomach.

“You wanted me to see what life would be like without you. I get it.”

We had the rapt attention of the bar. “Warner, let’s talk somewhere else,”

I suggested. I pulled him past the bar and into the hallway by the restrooms.

“I miss you, Naomi. I miss our dinners together. I miss coming home and finding out you did all my laundry for me. I miss taking you out and showing you off.”

I shook my head, hoping to rattle some sense into my brain. I couldn’t believe he was here.

“Look,” he said, “I apologize for what happened. I was stressed. I had too much to drink. It won’t happen again.”

“How did you find me?” I asked, finally extricating myself from his grasp.

“My mom is Facebook friends with yours. She saw some of the pictures your mom has been posting.”

For once I regretted not telling my mom exactly why I’d run out on my wedding. If she’d known why I left Warner, she sure as hell wouldn’t have pointed the way here.

Warner took my wrists in his hands.

“Everything all right here,” Max asked, appearing at the mouth of the hall.

“Everything’s fine,” I lied.

“Mind your own damn business,” Warner muttered without taking his eyes off me.

“Warner!” I remembered all the little insults he’d say under his breath directed at me and countless others.

“Let’s go somewhere where we can talk,” he said, squeezing my wrists tighter.

“No. You need to listen to me. I’m not going anywhere with you and I’m certainly not getting back together with you. It’s over. We’re over. There’s nothing more to talk about. Now go home, Warner.”

He stepped forward into my space. “I’m not going anywhere unless you’re with me,” he insisted.

I could smell alcohol on his breath and winced. “How much have you had to drink?”

“For fuck’s sake, Naomi. Stop trying to blame everything on a drink or two. Now, I let you have your space and look what you did with it.” He swept an arm out. “This isn’t you. You don’t belong in a place like this with people like them.”

“Let go of me, Warner,” I said calmly.

Instead of letting me go, he pushed me back against the wall and held me there by my biceps.

I didn’t like it. It wasn’t like when Knox boxed me in and my senses were full of him, when I wanted to do anything to be closer to him. This was different.

“You need to go, Warner,” I said.

“You want me to go, you’re going with me.”

I shook my head. “I can’t leave. I’m working.”

“Fuck this place, Naomi. Fuck your little temper tantrum. I’m willing to forgive you.”

“Take your fucking hands off her. Now.”

My knees went weak at Knox’s voice.

“Move along, asshole. This is between me and my fiancée,” Warner said.

“Not the brightest answer,” Lucian said mildly.

Knox and Lucian were standing at the mouth of the hallway. Lucian had his hand on Knox’s shoulder. I couldn’t tell if he was restraining him or telling him he had his back. Then suddenly Knox wasn’t standing at the mouth of the hall, and Warner didn’t have his hands on me anymore.

“Give him the first shot,” Lucian called.

Warner swung, and I watched in horror as he landed a punch that snapped Knox’s head back.

“Good enough,” Lucian said, his hands in the pockets of his slacks, the picture of relaxation.

Knox let his fists do the talking. The first punch connected with Warner’s nose, and I heard the crunch. Blindly, Warner struck out. The blow glanced off Knox’s shoulder. As blood poured from Warner’s nose, Knox threw another punch and then another before Warner crumpled to the floor. Before Knox could follow him down, Lucian was pulling him back.

“Enough,” he said calmly as Knox fought to free himself. “Take care of Naomi.”

When Lucian said my name, Knox’s gaze abandoned my bloodied ex-fiancé and found me.

“What the fuck?” Warner snarled as Lucian hauled him to his feet. “I’m calling my lawyer! Your ass will be in jail by morning!”

“Good luck with that. His brother’s the chief of police, and my lawyer is ten times more expensive than yours. Watch the door,” Lucian warned. And then he used Warner’s face to open the kitchen door. A cheer went up in the bar as the two men disappeared.

And then I wasn’t thinking about who was going to clean up the bloody smear on the glass because Knox was in front of me, looking a thousand shades of pissed off.