“Good. I was tired of my childhood best friends acting like they were still children.”
“Is that why you came back?”
His expression darkened. “One of the reasons.”
“One of those other reasons have anything to do with a pretty little librarian who hates your guts?”
He sighed, absently patting his pockets.
“Already had your one,” I reminded him.
“Fuck,” he muttered. It was as flustered as he allowed himself to get.
I had the temper. Nash had the good nature. And Lucian had the self-control of a fucking monk.
“Whatever happened with you two anyway?” I asked, enjoying the distraction of his discomfort.
“Your brother is in an ICU bed,” Lucian said. “That’s the only reason I’m not knocking your teeth out right now.”
As close as we’d all been, the one thing Lucian never shared was what made Sloane hate him. Up until last night, I’d thought the feeling was mutual. But I’d seen his face when he saw her, when she walked away. I didn’t know much about feelings, but whatever was written all over his face didn’t look like hate to me.
“You probably don’t even remember how to throw a punch,” I teased. “All those conference room negotiations. You just sic your lawyers on people instead of delivering a nice right cross to the face. Bet it’s less satisfying.”
“You can take the boy out of Knockemout but you can’t take the Knockemout out of the boy,” he said.
I hoped it was true. “Appreciate you bein’ here.”
He nodded. “I’ll stay with him until Liza comes back in.”
“That’d be good,” I said.
We stood in silence, legs braced as the sun rose, adding gold to the pink and purple. A new day had officially begun. A lot of things were gonna change, and I was keyed up to make it all happen.
“Get some sleep.” Lucian dug into his pocket and tossed me his keys. “Take my car.”
I caught them midair and hit the unlock button. A shiny Jaguar blinked its headlights at me from a primo parking spot.
“Always did have good taste.”
“Some things never change.”
But some things had to.
“I’ll see you later, man.”
He nodded. And then I surprised the hell out of us both by wrapping him in a hard one-armed hug.
“Missed you, brother.”
TWENTY-THREE
KNOX KNOX. WHO’S THERE?
Naomi
I was torn from a fitful sleep on the couch by pounding at the front door. Disoriented, I stumbled around the coffee table and tried to remember where I was.
The $20,000 in cash still tucked away in my apron.
Nash.
Knox.
Waylay’s first day of school.
No wonder I’d fallen prey to a nap attack.
I opened the door and found a freshly showered Knox standing on the welcome mat. Waylon trotted inside, wagging his tail.
“Hey,” I croaked.
A man of few words, Knox said nothing and stepped over the threshold. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. He looked tense like he was spoiling for a fight. Well, if he’d come here for a fight, he was going to be disappointed. I was too tired to deliver one.
“How’s your brother?” I ventured.
He shoved a hand through his hair. “Long recovery ahead. But he’ll be okay. Get Way off to school this morning?”
His brother had been shot, and the man remembered to ask about Waylay’s first day. I didn’t know how to reconcile that with the jerk who yelled at me in front of his own customers. If he could ever settle fully into the thoughtful grump and give up the pissed-off bad boy, he’d make some woman very lucky someday.
“Yeah,” I yawned. “She slept at Liza’s last night since I didn’t get home until late. Liza, Stef, and I made her send-off breakfast there. Stef made chocolate chip pancakes even though I told him spikes in blood sugar make kids tired and unfocused at school.”
I was tired and unfocused, not because of pancakes but because Knox’s edginess made me nervous.
“Uh, speaking of Stef, I think he and Jeremiah might be into each other,” I said, grasping for a topic that would warrant some kind of verbal reaction.
But Knox remained silent as he prowled the tiny living room, looking much too big to belong here. He was a man with a lot of feelings locked up tight. Part of me wanted to crack him open. The other part wanted to just go back to bed and forget everything for a few hours.
“Do you want some coffee? Maybe some alcohol?” I offered, following him as he moved toward the kitchen, his hands clenching into fists only to release again. Over and over again.