I was willing to bet money that Knox’s pumpkin was the terrifying ghoulish one vomiting forth its own innards. Naomi’s would be the precisely carved, toothy smile one. And Waylay’s was the impatient, jagged, lopsided one with scary eyebrows.
The entire place screamed “family.” Which was both sweet and entertaining when I thought of the Knox who I’d known forever.
From beyond the screen door came an excited howl immediately followed by a cacophony of barks and yips. Dogs of all shapes and sizes spilled out onto the porch and down the steps, swarming me in a friendly frenzy.
I bent to greet them.
Knox’s grandmother’s dogs were a petite, one-eyed pit bull named Kitty and a rambunctious beagle named Randy. Naomi’s parents, who now resided in the cabin on the property, had brought along their dog, Beeper, a rescued Heinz 57 that resembled a scruffy brick with feet.
Knox’s dog, a chunky basset hound named Waylon, landed his pudgy front paws on my thighs to rise above the fray for his fair share of attention.
“Waylon! Knock it off,” Knox barked from the front porch as he pushed open the screen door. He had a dish towel thrown over his shoulder, a pair of grill tongs in his hand, and something close to a smile on his handsome face.
“I’m settin’ the table like you told me to!” came the aggrieved cry of a twelve-year-old from inside.
“Waylon, not Waylay,” Knox yelled back.
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Waylay bellowed.
I grinned.
“Family life agrees with you,” I said, wading through the dogs to the front porch.
He shook his head. “I spent an hour googling fuckin’ sixth grade math last night and a week listening to women go back and forth over flower arrangements.” A chorus of laughter rang out from the house. “It’s never quiet. There’s always people everywhere.”
He might have been standing there complaining, but it was plain as day that Knox Morgan was happier than he’d ever been.
“Sounds like you deserve one of these,” I said, holding up the six-pack I’d brought.
“Let’s drink in the backyard before someone finds us and needs me to fix the dryer vent or watch another ‘hilarious TikTok,’” he said. He tucked the tongs into his back pocket, grabbed two of the beers, then popped the tops on the porch railing. He handed one to me. “Last chance to make a run for it,” he offered.
“Oh, I’m not missing the domesticated Knox show for anything,” I told him.
He snorted. “Domesticated?”
“Just messing with you. It suits you.”
He leaned his forearms on the porch railing. “What does?”
I pointed the neck of my bottle toward the front door. “Those two ladies in there needed you. You stepped up and now the three of you are so blindingly happy the rest of us can’t look directly at you.”
“You think they’re happy?” Knox asked.
Another burst of laughter came from inside the house. The dogs raced around the yard, noses to the ground in search of another adventure.
“Positive,” I said.
He cleared his throat. “Something I wanna ask you, and I don’t want you makin’ a big fuckin’ deal out of it.”
“I’m intrigued.”
“I want you to be a groomsman or whatever.”
I blinked. “Me?” Except for my aunt Shirley’s wedding to my aunt Janey—I’d rocked my role as an eight-year-old rainbow glitter fairy—I’d never been part of a bridal party. I’d never been close enough to anyone to be asked.
“Naomi’s askin’ Sloane, Stef, Fi, and Way. I’ve got Nash, Luce, and Jer. At least I will once I tell them. And you.”
Nash. Just the mention of his brother’s name had me spiraling further into bitchiness. But the bitchiness was tempered by a bright glow in my chest. “Do you want me to wear a tux?”
“I don’t care if you wear beer-stained sweats. Though I’m sure Daisy’ll have some opinions. Just be there.” He took a pull of his beer. “And don’t let me fuck it all up.”
I grinned. “I’d be honored to be your groomsman…person?”
“Naomi’s calling you a groomsgal, but I’m not saying that shit in public. Stef’s a bridesman and I am sayin’ that.”
We both smirked into the dusk as it settled over the yard.
“Thanks for asking,” I said finally. “Even though you didn’t ask.”
“If you tell people what you want instead of askin’ them for it, you’re more likely to get what you want,” he said.
“Knox the domesticated philosopher.”
“Shut up or I’ll make you wear tangerine taffeta.”
“I’m amazed you know either one of those words.”
“Wedding’s in three weeks. I’m learning all the words.”
“Three weeks?”
His grin was lazy. “Feel like I’ve been waiting for Daze and Way my entire life. I’d go to the courthouse tonight if I could talk them into it.”
“Well, if I’m not still in town by then, I’ll come back for it,” I promised.
He nodded. “Fair warning. There’s gonna be a shit ton of hugging.”
I grimaced. “I’m out.”
Physical affection ranked somewhere between being on hold with the cable company and getting a root canal. There had been a time in my life when my body had belonged more to medical staff than to myself. Since then, I preferred to avoid all surprise touching unless I was the one instigating it. Which only made my reaction to He Who Shall Not Be Named all the more confusing.
“Already got a solution,” he said. “I’m puttin’ not a hugger after your name in the program.”
I was still laughing when headlights cut through the trees that lined the lane. Nash’s pickup truck, a blue Nissan, pulled into the drive next to my car.
Temper sparked over my skin along with the concern that he’d push the line of questioning on the whole investigator situation. I didn’t need him spreading that around.
“I didn’t know he was coming,” I said.
Knox gave me the side-eye. “Got a problem with my brother?”
“Yeah, actually, I do. You have a problem with me having a problem?”
His lips quirked. “Nope. ’Bout time someone else gets pissed at him besides me. Just don’t let it fuck with the wedding or that’ll upset Naomi. And no one upsets Naomi besides me.”
The dogs enthusiastically swarmed the vehicle.
My heated gaze met Nash’s chilly one through the windshield. He didn’t look too happy about the idea of getting out of the car. Good.
“I think I’ll go inside. See if there’s anything I can help with,” I decided.
Knox traded me the tongs for a third beer. “Check the chicken on the grill if Lou hasn’t already started hovering,” he said, then headed in the direction of his brother.
Check on the chicken? My knowledge of cooking poultry was limited to what showed up on my plate in restaurants. I let myself in and followed the noise.
The house was a beauty, rugged and rustic, but with homey touches that made a person want to sit down, put their feet up, and enjoy the chaos.