Family photos that went back a handful of generations decorated the walls and colorful throw rugs softened the scarred hardwood floors.
I found the majority of the noise and people in the kitchen. Knox and Nash’s grandmother, Liza J—the home’s previous occupant before moving into the cottage down the lane—was supervising Naomi’s mother, Amanda, as she constructed a charcuterie board.
Lou, Naomi’s father, was—thankfully—already on the deck peering under the hood of the grill and prodding at the chicken with his own set of tongs.
Naomi and her best friend, the gorgeous and fashionable Stefan Liao, were arguing while he opened wine and she stirred something that smelled pretty great on the stove.
“Tell him, Lina,” Naomi said as if I’d been there the entire time.
“Tell who what?” I asked, finding a spot in the fridge for the remainder of the six-pack and the two-liter of Waylay’s tooth-rotting soda.
“Tell Stef that he should ask out Jeremiah,” she said.
Jeremiah was Knox’s partner in Whiskey Clipper, the town barbershop/salon beneath my apartment. As with all the single men in this town, he was also really, really good-looking.
“Witty’s doing that smug, almost-married lady thing where she tries to pair off all her friends so they can be smug, almost-married jackasses too,” Stef complained. He was wearing cashmere and corduroy and looked like he’d stepped off the pages of a men’s fashion magazine.
“Do you want to be a smug, almost-married jackass?” I asked him.
“I don’t even officially live in this town,” he said, waving his arms expressively without spilling a drop of the Shiraz. “How should I know if I want to be a jackass?”
“Great. That’s three more bucks for the swear jar,” Waylay lamented loudly from the dining room.
“Put it on my tab,” Stef yelled back.
The swear jar was a gallon-sized pickle jar that lived on the kitchen counter. It was always overflowing with dollar bills thanks to Knox’s colorful vocabulary. The money went toward buying fresh produce. The only way Naomi could get Waylay on board with curbing the four-letter words was to keep the family up to their eyeballs in salads.
“Please,” Naomi scoffed. “You spend more time in Knockemout than you do at your place in New York or with your parents. I know you’re not here just because you love the canine chaos.”
On cue, all four dogs raced into the kitchen and then charged through the dining room doorway just as Waylay appeared in it. She jumped out of their way, which succeeded in exciting them further.
“Out!” Amanda bellowed, opening the deck door and shooing the blur of fur outside.
Waylay slunk into the kitchen and sneaked a piece of pepperoni off the charcuterie board. “Table’s set,” she said.
Naomi narrowed her eyes, plucked a piece of broccoli off the veggie tray, and stuffed it into her niece’s mouth.
Waylay put up a valiant fight, but her determined aunt won with a suffocating hug.
“Why are you so obsessed with green stuff, Aunt Naomi?” Waylay groaned.
“I’m obsessed with your health and wellness,” Naomi said, ruffling her hair.
Waylay rolled her eyes. “You’re so weird.”
“I’m weird with love for you.”
“Let’s get back to roasting Uncle Stef for being too chicken to ask out Jeremiah,” Waylay suggested.
“Good idea,” Naomi agreed.
“Boy like that’s not gonna stay single for long,” Liza J warned Stef as she slipped a slice of salami to Waylay.
“He’s very handsome,” Amanda agreed.
Everyone turned to look at me expectantly. “He is gorgeous,” I agreed. “But only if you’re into relationships and monogamy.”
“Which I’m not,” Stef insisted.
“Neither was Knox,” I pointed out. “But look at him now. He’s sickeningly happy.”
Naomi looped her arm over my shoulder and I barely managed to hide the flinch at the unexpected touch. The engagement ring on her finger glittered in the light. “See, Stef? You too could be sickeningly happy.”
“I think I’d rather just be sick.”
I slid out of Naomi’s affectionate embrace and headed for the meat tray.
Waylay stuffed a pilfered salami into her mouth when Naomi wasn’t looking. I could almost hear my mother’s voice in my head.
“You’re still avoiding processed meats aren’t you, Lina?”
“Do you really think it’s a good idea to drink alcohol with your condition?”
I took a defiant sip of my beer, sidled up to Waylay, and chose a piece of ring bologna.
“What? I’m hot and gay, so me dating the hot, bisexual barber is a foregone conclusion? Gays and bis have to have more in common than just being gay and bi,” Stef sniffed.
“I thought you said he was the most attractive man on the planet with a voice like melted ice cream that made you want to tear your clothes off and listen to him recite his grocery list?” Naomi mused.
“And didn’t you also say the whole small business entrepreneurial thing he has going on was intriguing because you’re tired of dating fitness models?” Amanda added.
“And aren’t you both huge fans of luxury fashion brands, Luke Bryan, and environmentally friendly energy solutions?” I prodded.
“I hate you all.”
“Don’t date him because he’s bisexual, Stef. Date him because he’s perfect for you,” Naomi said.
Knox and Nash entered, both looking vaguely pissed off. To be fair, that was how they usually looked after a conversation with each other. Nash looked tired too. And hot in his jeans and flannel—yum.
Damn it. I’d forgotten that I wasn’t finding him attractive anymore.
I focused on the fact that he’d done his best to humiliate me with Nolan and embraced my inner female rage.
He had a beer in one hand and was holding the shivering Piper in the other. She was wearing a ridiculous pumpkin print sweater. They both looked as if this was the last place on earth they wanted to be.
“Evenin’，” he said to the room, but those blue eyes landed on me.
I glared at him. He glared back.
A new wave of pandemonium broke out as the women rushed Nash to get a better look at Piper. Knox waded through it and kissed Naomi on the cheek before making a beeline for the meat tray.
“Hi, pretty girl,” Naomi said, gently greeting the dog. “I like your sweater.”
“Who is this sweet little thing?” Amanda crooned, gently stroking Piper’s head.
The dogs outside, sensing a potential new friend, pressed their noses against the deck door and whimpered pitifully.
“This is Piper. Found her in a storm drain outside town yesterday. Who wants to foster her?” Nash said, still looking pissily in my direction.
I pointedly ignored him.
“That’s not what it looked like you were doing,” Stef said in an I know something you don’t tone.
Nash and I both swung our glares in his direction.
Stef grinned devilishly. “Sorry, kids. Gotta throw someone else under the bus or they’ll never move on.”
“What did they look like they were doin’？” Liza J demanded.