Chapter 3
Lexi
The limo arrives a short time later, and when it does, everyone seems to scatter. I grab my bag and hitch it over my shoulder.
“Let me,” Knox says in a low voice, and takes the bag before I can protest.
“My arms work just fine, you know,” I tell him, but he only shoots me a smile and pops it into the trunk before the driver can. We’re handed our Happy Meals, ushered into the back seat, and then the driver gets in the front and we’re off. Knox puts aside his Happy Meal and pockets his phone, giving me a speculative glance.
I nibble on a fry, acting more casual than I feel. “Mesmerized by my beauty?”
He chuckles and leans his head back on the limo seat, looking sleepy and delectable and unfair. “Something like that. Just trying to figure out why you didn’t want to get in the car with Nat and Clay.”
“Was I that obvious?”
“Only to someone who’s good at watching people.”
I nibble on another fry and then lick the salt off my fingers. I’m really not hungry, and I can’t even pretend it. “Let’s just say that Nat’s been missing him really hard for the last few days and I’m not convinced their clothing will remain on their bodies when they make it to the parking lot. Which would make it extra awkward if I’m there.”
He grins acknowledgment. “They do seem to be hot and heavy. But Clay’s always known what he wants, and I’m pretty sure it’s always been her.”
“Mmm, we might have to agree to disagree on that one.” Just because I’m loyal to Natalie above all and I know how much she’s missed him and suffered ever since they broke up. How there’s never been anyone for her but him, and how lonely she’s been. But that’s a lot to dump on Clay’s younger brother, who will be eternally loyal to him—and rightfully so. We’re going to be Democrats vs Republicans on this one, dog people vs cat people. Sticks vs stones.
“Where do you live?” Knox asks, and he toys with one end of my hair that’s somehow landed on his shoulder. I had no idea we were sitting so close, but our shoulders are pressed together despite the huge back seat of the limo, and I feel strangely reluctant to move away.
I shrug. “Out in Luka like Natalie.”
He grins. “That’s a long drive I just volunteered for.”
That grin is going to undo me. I shake my head and decide to let him down gently. “My car’s at the hotel that Clay and Nat are staying at. You can drop me off there.”
“You drove several hours to stay with Natalie at her hotel?”
“Yup. Natalie needed a shoulder to cry on when your brother abandoned her for a few days. Looks like they’ve kissed and made up, though.” I might be a little miffed that she forgave him so quickly. He must be a heck of a smooth talker. Three days of girlfriending and moral support vanishes in the face of the good dick. Not that I blame her, but . . . still kind of stings a little.
Knox only laughs at my sour tone. “Clay is terrible at playing hard to get. Natalie, too.”
Boy, he’s not wrong about that. They’re both awful at hiding their feelings. “Guess they’re perfect for each other. They can practice their poker faces together.”
He snickers and rubs his beard, then glances over at me. He studies me for a long moment and then gives me another one of those heartbreaking smiles. “Well, even if their relationship is a hot mess, something good came out of this. I got to meet you.”
He’s killing me. Straight-up killing me. “Knox,” I say softly, then hesitate.
“You don’t have to say more,” Knox tells me in a low voice. “It ain’t an invitation if you don’t want one. Just me acknowledging a kindred spirit is all.”
“It’s not that I don’t want the invite. It’s just . . . how old are you?”
“Gonna be twenty-four in another month.” He looks over at me with gleaming, dark eyes. “But we both know it ain’t age stoppin’ you.”
“Well, it’s definitely a speed bump,” I say drily. “I’m going to be twenty-nine when you turn twenty-four. You’re still at the age where it’s all party and no responsibility.”
“You make it sound like I’m twenty years younger than you, not five.” He puts his hand on mine. It’s callused and hard, big and warm. It feels way better than any casual hand should really feel. Unfair. “And just because I’m a bit younger than you doesn’t mean I’m not mature enough to be your friend.”
“Is that what we’re going to be, then? Just friends?” Part of me is relieved and part of me . . . is decidedly not. If I was going to be careless and fool around, it’d be with someone like him. Actually, screw the someone-like-him part. It’d be him.
He nods and rubs his fingers over mine gently. “I’d be happy with more, but I also ain’t the type to push a woman when she’s not comfortable with giving more. So we can be friends.” He picks up his phone and wags it at me. “Wanna exchange numbers, good buddy?”
I laugh at that. “Sure thing, pal of mine.”
By the time we type numbers into each other’s phones, send obscene and ridiculous test texts to each other, and then make goofy faces so there’s a photo to go with the number, we’re pulling up to the hotel. I’m a little sad to realize my time with Knox is at an end. I’m sure we’ll be text buddies, but I live a few hours away, and without a reason to hang out, I doubt there’ll be many meetings in the future. It’ll end up like every other long-distance friendship—slowly petering out.
But I can’t worry about that right now. I pat his hand and point in the distance. “My car’s along that way.”
The limo cruises at a crawl through the parking lot, and as it moves with glacial speed, I see my car tucked underneath one of the trees.
And right next to it, I see Keith Lawrence’s pickup truck.
My heart goes cold in my chest. There’s an alarm bell going off in my ears and everything around me tilts dizzily. Maybe it’s not his truck, I tell myself. Maybe there’s another F-350 with the oversized tires and that strange topaz gold paint job. But there’s no mistaking the big KL decaled on the back of the window or the TruckNutz hanging from his trailer hitch. Because of course I’d be stalked by someone who loves TruckNutz.
Keith somehow found out I was here in San Antonio and drove three hours out here looking for me. That’s fucking crazy. That’s something only a stalker would do.
Of course, he is my stalker, so crazy is always on the table.
“You okay?” Knox asks, and his voice is like liquid silk against my ears—soothing and gorgeous. He gives our joined hands a little jiggle, as if reminding me of them, and I look down to see that I’m clutching at his fingers so tight that mine are white with pressure. “What is it?”
I open my mouth to tell him, but nothing comes out. Truth be told, Keith Lawrence is my secret shame. I always feel like maybe he wouldn’t stalk me if I was stronger around him, or if I gave off a different vibe. That if we hadn’t gone on a date once way way back two years ago, he’d never have grown this attached. And telling Knox this feels like it would be admitting a mistake.
And I may be many things, but someone that admits when they’re wrong? Nope.
I know how this will go, too. Keith will show up when I try to get into my car to confront me and want to know where I’ve been. He’ll see Knox and the limo and think the worst. Or even more dire than that, Knox will see Keith and assume I either have a boyfriend and have been cheating on him, or that I need rescuing.
Both scenarios offer nothing but ugly solutions. I don’t know what to do.
“Lexi?” Knox squeezes my hand and touches my arm with his other hand.
An idea flashes through my head. A crazy one. One just so crazy that it might just work. I look over at Knox, and then put my hands on both sides of his face and pull him in for a kiss.
I think he’s surprised at my actions. I can feel him stiffen underneath me, and then he pulls me against him, dragging me into his lap. He’s strong, and the mouth on mine has soft lips despite the bristle of beard around it, and the contrast is surprisingly arousing. One hand goes behind my neck and then his tongue slides into my mouth, and the kiss goes to a whole new level.
I forget all about Keith. I forget all about driving home, or the fact that I just told Knox I wanted to be “just friends.” Right now, all I want is to be in his bed, and to see what else he’s good at if he kisses this well. Because oh my god, his mouth. Hot and demanding, he kisses me like he’s mastered the art. He slicks his tongue into my mouth over and over again, a subtle message of what I’m going to miss out on if I walk away. He kisses me so hard and so deep that I lose track of time, and it seems like eternity before our mouths part. When I pull away, I’m breathless and full of need, my nipples hard and an ache pulsing deep between my legs.
“I changed my mind,” I tell him, panting. “Want to get a room together?”
It’s the perfect solution, really. I sleep with Knox and I don’t have to worry about confronting Keith tonight. I sleep with Knox and I get to experience all the toe-curling promise he’s been teasing me with. Best of both worlds.
His hand flexes against the back of my neck, almost like he’s petting me. Our mouths are inches apart, and the way his gaze dips to my lips, I know he’s thinking about kissing me again. “Room here?” he asks.
Oh. “No, not here,” I say and slide a hand down the front of his old concert T-shirt. The neck has been completely cut out and so have the sides, which means it’d be so easy to slip my hand around the fabric and touch the rock-hard, browned chest I’ve been trying not to drool over all day. “I don’t want to run into Clay or Nat when I do the walk of shame. Somewhere else.”
Actually, I wouldn’t care about running into Clay or Nat—it’s Keith I have concerns over. But he nods. “My place isn’t far from here.”
“Your place sounds perfect.”
“It’s a double wide.”
I shrug. Like I’m one to judge? I live in a roach motel of an apartment. “As long as someone doesn’t come out and tell me to squeal like a pig, I’m fine.”
“Huh?”
“Deliverance joke.”
“Deliverance?” He echoes slowly, as if he’s never heard such a thing in his life.
“You know, the movie about the guys that go camping and meet the redneck—” I break off abruptly as I realize there’s a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Oooh, you ass. You got me good.”
“Did I?”
I reach under his shirt and twist his nipple. “I think you had me hypnotized with your tongue.”
“I don’t think that’s true. If you were, you’d be talking less and kissing more.” His hand lazily plays up and down my spine, teasing along the lines of my swimsuit under my clothes.
“More kissing, hmm?” I lean closer, our noses brushing before I lightly press my mouth to his again. “I think I can handle that.”
He grins at me and then tilts his head slightly, looking over my shoulder at the waiting driver. “Let’s go back to my place.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver says, and I realize he has the window partition down and heard every last bit of our conversation. Oh well. He can have an earful. I don’t care. I glance out the window at my waiting car, and Keith’s truck next to it.
My problems can wait another day. For now, I’m going to pick a different path.