“You’ll still need a paycheck,” she continued, unaware of my mental predicament.
I still needed a lot of things. Bike helmets. A car. Some therapy appointments… “Oh, I had a job offer today. Someone named Sherry Fiasco said I could take a shift at a place called the Honky Tonk tomorrow night. But I need to find someone to watch Waylay.”
We heard the scrabble of paws, and in seconds, Waylon trotted into the room and looked at us expectantly.
“Waylay, not Waylon,” Liza said to the dog.
He sniffed around, making sure we weren’t dropping food on the floor, and then headed back into the kitchen.
“You didn’t by chance mention to Knox about that job offer, did you?” Liza asked.
“We don’t have that kind of relationship. We just met,” I said diplomatically. I didn’t want to come out and tell my new landlord that I thought her grandson was a brutish oaf with the manners of a pillaging Norseman.
She studied me through her glasses, and the corner of her mouth turned up. “Oh, I can tell. Word of advice, maybe don’t tell him about the new job. He might have opinions and if he does, he’d definitely share them.”
If Knox Morgan thought I was interested in his opinions on my life, I could add narcissistic tendencies to his long list of flaws.
“My business is my business,” I said primly. “Besides, I don’t think I’m going to be able to find someone I’m comfortable leaving Waylay with in such a short time.”
“Already did. Though the girl probably don’t need it. Probably been making her own dinners since she was six. She can stay with me. Hell, maybe she can make me dinner. Bring her by on your way to work tomorrow.”
Keep an entire human being alive and safewent into the Major Imposition column on my internal spreadsheet of Things to Avoid at All Costs. Asking my fairy godmother landlord to please babysit my niece until who knew when while I worked a late shift in a bar rose to the top of that list, edging out helping me move and chauffeuring me to or from surgery.
Major Impositions were only put upon responsible family members and close friends. Liza was neither of those.
“Oh, but I don’t know what time I’ll get off,” I hedged. “It could be very late.”
She shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. I’ll keep her here with me and the dogs, then bring her back to the cottage after dinner. Don’t mind waiting around there. Always liked that place.”
She headed toward the doorway, leaving me with my feet glued to the rug and my mouth still gaping. “I’ll pay you,” I called after her, finally rediscovering the ability to move and speak.
“We’ll discuss it,” Liza said over her shoulder. “I know you think you’re getting the good end of the deal, but you got no idea what a mess you’re getting involved in.”
We found everyone, including the dogs, alive and unharmed in the kitchen in an oddly homey scene. Waylay was perched at the island, judging every ingredient Nash added to the salad as she added mixed seasoning and condiments in a bowl. Knox was drinking a beer and stabbing at the meat in the pan while reading out ingredients to Waylay.
There appeared to be no new bloodshed. Both men had cleaned up their wounds, leaving behind only bloodstains and bruises. Nash looked like a hero who had taken a few hits for a damsel in distress. Knox, on the other hand, looked like a villain who’d gone a few rounds with the good guy and come out victorious.
It was definitely my recent mistake with the good guy—on paper at least—that had me overcorrecting and finding Knox and his villainous attitude attractive. At least, that’s what I told myself when Knox’s gaze landed on me and I felt like hot bacon grease had just been poured directly into my spinal column.
I ignored him and his sexy standing-at-the-stove-ness, choosing to focus on the rest of the room instead.
Liza’s kitchen had an astronomical amount of counter space that had my fantasies shifting gears and thinking about the Christmas cookie baking potential. The refrigerator was ancient. The stove practically an antique. The countertops were battered butcher block. The cupboards were painted a lovely loden green. And, judging from the contents visible inside the glass-fronted ones, they were all close to overflowing.
I’d start the clean-out in here, I decided. The kitchen was the heart of the home, after all. Though Liza didn’t seem like she was the sentimental type. More like the frozen-in-time type. It happened. Life threw someone an unexpected curve, and things like household maintenance went right out the window. Sometimes permanently.
When it was ready, we took the food and wine into the sunroom, where a smaller table looked out over the backyard. The view was all woods and creek, dappled in gold as the sun sank lower in the summer sky.
When I moved to take a seat next to Waylay, Liza shook her head. “Uh-uh. These two sit next to each other, they’ll be wrestling on the floor before cookies.”
“I’m sure they can behave themselves for one meal,” I insisted.
She snorted. “No, they can’t.”
“No, we can’t,” Knox said at the same time.
“Of course we can,” Nash insisted.
Liza jerked her head at Waylay, who scampered to the opposite side of the table with her plate. The dogs filed in and trotted up to claim their sentry positions around the table. Two of them had judged Waylay to be the one most likely to drop food and stationed themselves next to her.
Waylon plopped down behind Liza at the head of the table.
Both men moved to take the chair next to mine, Knox winning it by throwing an elbow that nearly had Nash dropping his plate.
“See?” their grandmother said with a triumphant jab of her fork.
I took my seat and tried to ignore my acute awareness of Knox as he sat down. The task became downright impossible when his denim-clad thigh brushed against my arm as he sat down. I yanked my arm back and nearly put my plate in my lap.
“Why are you so jumpy?” Waylay asked.
“I’m not jumpy,” I insisted, bobbling my wine glass when I reached for it.
“So, what were you fightin’ over this time?” Liza asked her grandsons, magnanimously changing the subject.
“Nothin’,” Knox and Nash said in unison. The glare that passed between them made me think they didn’t like being on the same page about anything.
“Aunt Naomi broke ’em up,” Waylay reported, studying a slice of tomato with suspicion.
“Eat your salad,” I told her.
“Who was winnin’?” Liza asked.
“Me,” the brothers announced together.
The pronouncement was followed by another chilly silence.
“Rough and tumble as they come, these two,” Liza reminisced. “’Course, they used to make up after a fight and be back to bein’ thick as thieves in no time. Guess y’all outgrew that part.”
“He started it,” Nash complained.
Knox snorted. “Just ’cause you’re the good one doesn’t mean you’re always innocent.”
I understood the dynamics of the good sibling versus the bad one all too well.
“You two with Lucy thrown in the mix?” Liza shook her head. “Whole town knew trouble was coming when you three got together.”
“Lucy?” I asked before I could help myself.
“Lucian Rollins,” Nash said as he used his bun to scoop up the ground beef that escaped to his plate. “An old friend.”
Knox grunted. His elbow brushed mine, and I felt my skin catch fire again. I withdrew as far as I dared without ending up in Liza’s lap.
“What’s Lucy up to these days?” she asked. “Last I heard he was some big-wig mogul in a suit.”
“That’s about the truth,” Nash said.
“Kid was a hustler,” Liza explained. “Always knew he was meant for bigger and better things than a trailer and hand-me-downs.”
Waylay’s gaze slid to Liza.
“Lots of people come from humble beginnings,” I said.
Knox looked at me and shook his head in what might have been amusement.
“What?”
“Nothing. Eat your dinner.”
“What?” I demanded again.
He shrugged. “Chivalry. Humble beginnings. You talk like you read the dictionary for fun.”
“I’m so glad you find humor in my vocabulary. It just makes my day.”
“Don’t mind Knox,” Nash cut in. “He’s intimidated by women with brains.”
“You want my fist up your nose again?” Knox offered gamely.
I kicked him under the table. It was purely on reflex.
“Ow! Fuck,” he muttered, leaning down to rub his shin.
All eyes came to me, and I realized what I’d done. “Great,” I said, throwing down my fork in mortification. “A few minutes here and there with you, and it’s contagious. Next thing you know, I’ll be putting strangers in headlocks on the street.”
“I’d pay to see that,” Waylay mused.
“Me too,” Knox and Nash said together.
The corner of Liza’s mouth lifted. “I think you’ll fit in just fine around here,” she predicted. “Even if you do talk like a dictionary.”
“I take it that means you’re lettin’ them stay,” Knox prodded.
“I am,” Liza confirmed.
I didn’t miss the quick flash of relief that played over Waylay’s face before her mask returned.
One less thing to worry about. A nice, safe place to stay.
“You boys know our Naomi here’s a runaway bride?”
“She left some guy standing in a church and stole his car!” Waylay announced with pride.
I picked up the bottle of wine and topped off Liza’s glass and then my own. “You know, where I’m from, we mind our own business.”
“Better not be expecting that in a place like Knockemout,” Liza advised.
“What did he do?” Nash asked. But he wasn’t asking me, he was asking Waylay.