The Do-Over (The Rooftop Crew Book 5)

by Piper Rayne

  “Good. You know the shelter I help out at on Thanksgiving?”

  “Yeah?”

  Everyone’s attention rests on Sandy while I can’t stop watching Jax and Kamea. This is not good.

  “Well, the guy who was supposed to play Santa on Thanksgiving just canceled. So now we’re scrambling.”

  “Play Santa?” Jolie says, and the room quiets.

  “We talked about this, Jolie. Santa has helpers,” Frankie says.

  Jolie’s mouth falls open, and she looks at Blanca and me in disbelief.

  “The big guy can’t do it all by himself,” Jax adds.

  More stunned silence fills the room. Jax has a soft spot for Jolie, but he refuses to admit he has a soft spot for her mom too.

  Jolie zeros in on me, walks over, and leans close. “Are you one of Santa’s helpers?”

  Blanca chokes on a laugh.

  I try to act serious when I really want to ask the little girl if I look like an old fat man who eats cookies daily.

  “Why would you ask that?” Sandy asks.

  Jolie looks at her grandma and back at me. “He looks like a young Santa. Big, and he kind of has a beard.”

  “Big?” I ask.

  Blanca laughs again.

  “Does Santa’s stomach look like this?” I lift my shirt and show off my six-pack.

  “Put your shirt down. The girl was just asking. It’s a compliment.” Jax winks at Jolie.

  I spot Kamea’s heated stare on my stomach and a rush of electricity runs through my body. How could I ever be jealous of her and Jax when she only looks at me that way? I lower my shirt and Kamea turns her attention to Jax.

  “Good thing the dress is long-sleeved,” Blanca says.

  “Oh, I didn’t even think about that. I should have waited.” Kamea looks at me.

  I shrug. I don’t really care. Plenty of my coworkers sport tattoos. “As long as you’re comfortable.”

  A tugging on my pant leg turns my attention down. “Knox?” Jolie asks.

  “Yeah?”

  “Will you play Santa for my grandma’s shelter?”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I’m sure he would love to, Jolie,” Jax says with a grin.

  “Yeah, he loves to do stuff like that,” Dylan shouts from his spot.

  “Come on, guys,” Frankie says and crooks her finger for Jolie to come to her. She leans forward and whispers something.

  Blanca smacks me on the arm. “You’re going to disappoint her.”

  Jolie comes back over to me, her bottom lip quivering and her eyes tearing up. Oh shit, Frankie. Seriously? Come on.

  “I’m sorry, Knox,” Jolie say quietly.

  I look at Frankie and sigh. She shrugs and continues tattooing. Jax coughs out, “Grinch.” Blanca hits me again.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” I say.

  “Really?” Sandy asks, and I half wonder if I was set up.

  Jolie jumps up and down, clapping. She runs over to Frankie, and they air high five.

  “Got you,” Frankie says.

  I shake my head and ignore them. As though I could’ve really said no to Jolie.

  “See, he’s a good guy like that.” Jax nods to me while his needle buzzes over Kamea’s arm.

  She smiles brightly at me as though she’s just as enamored as little Jolie.

  “I gotta go sleep before work,” I mumble and walk out of the tattoo shop.

  When I get to my apartment, I do what I’ve been doing almost every night. I beat off to visions of what I think Kamea looks like under her clothes, then I pass out like a baby until my alarm blares at nine.

  “So you’re bringing the waitress?” Patrice asks when we call in for our dinner break, walking into the sandwich shop we usually eat at since we started on the night shift.

  “Kamea. Yes.”

  “Is that your type then? Polynesian?” She looks over her menu as though we’ve never been here before.

  Sometimes I feel as if I’m in a relationship with Patrice. I mean, we spend so much time together. Especially on this overnight shift, where there are sometimes hours with nothing for us to do.

  “No. It’s a coincidence.”

  “You like her?”

  “Who?”

  She rolls her eyes. “The waitress.”

  “Kamea,” I correct because it annoys me when Patrice refers to her as the waitress. It brings up that night, and although Kamea seems good with my apology, it’s like a splinter I can’t get out from under my skin.

  “Yes, Kamea. Do you like her?”

  We’re interrupted by the waiter taking our order. Patrice gets the grilled chicken salad, and I get a burger with fries. Normally I eat leaner, but having Kamea in the house, I’ve been forced to try hummus and tofu this week. Time to reclaim my man card.

  Once the waiter is gone, Patrice sips her water. “So we’re starting fertility treatments. I’ll apologize in advance if I’m a bear to deal with these coming weeks.”

  I’m thankful she’s moved on to a new topic. “That’s great.”

  “I might need you to give me a shot.”

  I choke on my drink. “What? No.”

  “Come on. I hate needles, and I can’t have Nate wake up just to come give it to me.”

  “We can drive you to him,” I say.

  She tilts her head and gives me the same look my mom did when she didn’t much care for what I said. “Seriously?”

  “I’m a cop, not a doctor,” I say, pulling out my cell phone to see if I missed anything. Although most of my friends are asleep. If I had a real girlfriend, I wonder if they’d send me a sexy message or just a quick good night. Would my shift drag on longer, waiting to return to them?

  “You’re kind of a romantic, huh?” Patrice interrupts my wandering mind.

  Thank God because I don’t need to be thinking about that.

  “No.” I tuck my phone away. “You’ve known me for three years. Have I given you the impression that I’m a romantic?” I raise an eyebrow.

  “I saw you during your worst heartbreak. You want more than some chick in the bathroom stall, don’t you?”

  I busy myself making a tower out of the creamers.

  She laughs. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “If this is your way to sweet-talk me into giving you the shot, you’re going about it the wrong way.”

  She flicks my tower, and it crumbles. “Come on. Talk to me. Use me.”

  “Use you?”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter. Is that all you think about now, sex?”

  “I’m not the one trying to have a baby.”

  “Joke’s on you because we’re on a ‘schedule.’” She puts schedule in air quotes. “Saving all that sperm for ovulation time.”

  I put my fingers in my ears and shake my head. She throws a creamer at me and it bounces off my forehead.

  I sigh. “I do want a wife and kids. I’m not going to say I don’t. But I don’t want to marry the wrong woman, and if she had stuck around longer, maybe that could have happened with Leilani.”

  She leans in over the table. “You proposed to her?”

  “No. Thank fuck I didn’t.”

  “Yeah, that would’ve been a mistake. You’d be married to a felon right now and you could kiss that detective job bye-bye.” She kisses her fingers and waves them.

  “She’s not a felon.”

  “She’s about to be if she doesn’t show up for her court date.”

  Luckily, I get a reprieve when our food arrives. She stares at her salad then back at my meal.

  “No way,” I say.

  “Half? Half a salad would do you good.”

  I look at my stomach, thinking about the whole Jolie/Santa thing. “No.”

  “Knox, I love you. How about I promise to not give you grief tomorrow night at the retirement party? I won’t even bug the waitress.”

  “I’ll split it with you if you stop calling her the waitress.”

  She purses her lips and thinks ab
out it for a moment. How could she not just agree? I pick up the burger take a big bite of it.

  Her eyes narrow. “Fine.”

  “Say her name,” I say.

  “Kamea.” She holds out her plate for me to put half the burger on it.

  “Good girl.” I cut the burger in half and place it on the plate, and she steals half the fries.

  “Fries weren’t part of the deal,” I say.

  She chomps down on one, not caring.

  After we finish our meals, she wipes her mouth and pushes away her plate as though she ate a seven-course meal. “I was scared for a minute there.”

  “About what?”

  “I thought for sure you’d try to duck out of the shots as a trade for the burger.”

  We pay the bill and get up from the table. “I’m still not giving you a shot.”

  She walks out before me. “We’ll see about that.”

  I blow out a breath and shake my head. I wouldn’t trade her for the world.

  “Now let’s talk about Kamea coming with you tomorrow night.”

  I turn the key in the ignition. “Let’s not.”

  I don’t tell her, but I’ve already thought about it enough for both of us. Mostly what kind of dress she borrowed from Sierra and how I’ll hide my hard-on when I pick her up from Dylan and Rian’s tomorrow evening.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kamea

  This feels like a lot more makeup than I usually wear. Rian’s eyes widen when she looks at me.

  “Let’s remember Kamea has a natural glow about her,” Rian says, and I give her my best thankful look.

  “Yes. We’re just enhancing it,” Blanca says.

  I can’t argue, since I haven’t seen my face. Blanca’s makeup is usually flawless and fits her perfectly. I’ve never been much of a makeup person though, other than eyeliner and mascara. But it is a special occasion.

  “Not to mention, Knox will be showing her off,” Sierra adds, looking up from her magazine.

  My gut twists. Show me off? I’m not the type of woman you show off. Hopefully I can get the cricket out of my throat long enough to actually speak to people.

  “Make fish lips,” Blanca says, and Evan refills my wine glass.

  “Oh no, I can’t have any more. As it is, I have to walk in those heels.” I eye the shoes Sierra brought over. I could do a lot of harm with those spiky heels—mostly to myself.

  “You look nervous. This will help.” Blanca hands me the wine. “Before I put on the lipstick.”

  “I love makeovers,” Sierra says, flipping through the magazine again.

  Dylan walks into the apartment. His gaze falls over the wine, the makeup all over his kitchen table, and someone on each piece of furniture. He grunts and disappears into his bedroom.

  “Yeah, I’ll be…” Rian stands.

  “Dealing with crabby man? Yeah, we got ya.” Sierra shuts the magazine. “Kamea, do you think that maybe you and Knox might…”

  “What?” Evan asks.

  “Sleep together,” Sierra says as if it’s nothing.

  I’m not made for this. Why did I agree to this? I have to meet all these people and lie about dating Knox. I wouldn’t mind dating Knox, but he had his chance and chose not to go for it. I don’t hold a grudge about it. When he apologized, I accepted it because what else can I do?

  I just wish he wasn’t so flirtatious lately. Our looks tend to linger a little longer since our conversation on the rooftop. He doesn’t shy away when he’s in my way anymore but allows me to slide by him, our bodies touching. I feel as if someone has nestled the kindling together for a fire and they’re hovering over it with the knife and flint.

  “No, this is fake,” I say.

  Sierra rolls her eyes. “So what? All this shit Leilani put you through, you deserve a night of fun that includes being limp in his bed tomorrow morning.”

  Evan laughs, and Blanca gives me a smile to say that Sierra is just being Sierra.

  “Lip time, so she can’t talk anymore.” Blanca winks and puts on my lipstick. Once she’s done, she steps back, appraising her work. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “Don’t thank me until you see it.” She holds out her hand for me to go to the bathroom.

  Rian emerges from the bedroom as I walk past her to the bathroom. I look in the mirror and I can hardly believe it’s me. Although I felt as though Blanca was layering my makeup like a five-tier cake, it’s not overpowering. It kind of makes me feel sexy and beautiful.

  A knock lands on the apartment door, and Blanca jogs over. “Don’t come out until we tell you.”

  I nod.

  I hear the door open and Rian says, “Hello, are you here to pick up Kamea?”

  The other girls laugh, and Knox says, “Cut the act. What did you do with her?”

  I step out, not about making my reveal a big deal. This is a fake date. The girls want it to be more than it is. But his head turns and his gaze takes me in. Without saying a word, he steps toward me, the two of us soaking the other in. He’s wearing a dark suit—I can’t tell if it’s dark gray or black—a white shirt, and a pinstripe tie. It’s the flush on his cheeks I can’t stop staring at. Is he as nervous as me?

  “You look great. You ready?” He holds out his hand.

  I slide my hand into his large one. “Yeah.”

  “Bye, everyone.” He waves to the girls.

  “Thank you for everything,” I say.

  “The dress looks gorgeous on you,” Sierra says, her eyes on the back of Knox’s head. “Keep it because I’ll never be able to wear it without thinking of how stunning you are in it.”

  “Don’t go breaking my buddy’s heart now,” Dylan says from the bedroom doorway, his arms crossed.

  “Can’t break a heart that isn’t invested,” I joke.

  Knox stops for a moment before opening the front door for me.

  “Bye, you guys. Don’t worry, we won’t wait up,” Evan says, giggling.

  The door shuts, and Knox and I walk to the elevator without saying a word.

  Once we’re in the elevator car, Knox’s gaze falls down my body again. “I got us an Uber because I wasn’t going to put you in the Bronco looking like that.”

  “Okay.”

  The elevator descends and the doors slide open. He waits for me to get out and points toward the Uber we’re taking to the party. I slide in first and he slides in beside me. Knox makes small talk with the driver while his hand stays dangerously close to mine. I rack my brain for anything I’ve done to make him act like this. He’s doing everything right, but he feels colder, more distant than normal.

  When we get out, I put my hand on his arm. “Am I missing something?”

  “Like what?”

  “You haven’t really talked to me.”

  His shoulders fall and I prepare myself for the worst. What is he about to say?

  “Sorry. I think I’m just nervous.” He wipes his hands down the front of his slacks.

  “About how I’ll do? I’ll do my best to make a good impression, you have my word.”

  “God, no.” His hand touches my shoulder. “This party is big for me. I have to make a great impression, otherwise the detective job is smoke. But it’s not you I’m worried about.”

  Thank God, because I was about a second away from climbing back in that Uber and having him keep on driving.

  “Thanks for coming,” Knox says. “You look gorgeous. I’m afraid you’re going to be distracting.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” I walk in front of him.

  He catches up, placing his hand on the small of my back. “Not when I have to zero my attention in on my boss.”

  “Remind me, how convincing do you want me to be?” I ask, unsure if I should act like his cousin. “I mean hand-holding, kisses on the cheek, too much?”

  He smiles at me. “Play it however you’re comfortable and I’ll make sure I match you.”

  “Perfect.”

  He op
ens the glass door and I file in first, but when his body slides in close and his strong chest is a form of support, I sigh. Tonight might be fun, but I’m sure I’ll suffer the consequences tomorrow.

  We’re waiting for dinner to be served when I slide my hand under the table and rest it on Knox’s knee. His arm is over the back of my chair, his fingers fiddling with a strand of my hair that Blanca curled.

  “Did Knox tell you he has to give me shots?” Patrice says, and her husband gives her a death stare.

  I glance at Knox as he shakes his head. “I told you I’m not doing it.”

  She waves him off. “We’re trying to have a baby,” she whispers and eyes the other side of the table.

  The two guys seated with us keep looking at me and then their phones. Their wives are talking nonstop about kids and school.

  “That’s great,” I say.

  “But Knox needs to give me a fertility shot during our shift.” Patrice clenches her teeth.

  Knox’s body doesn’t show any discomfort with Patrice’s displeasure.

  “I’m sure he’ll do it.”

  “Nope,” Knox says as though he’s half in the conversation and half out of the conversation. I squeeze his leg, and he slides his thigh closer to me and tugs on my strand of hair. “I said no.”

  “Are you her sister?” one of the guys says from across the table.

  Here we go again.

  “No, she’s not,” Knox answers for me. “DuPont, put the damn phone away.”

  Surprisingly, they do, but I think it has more to do with the meals being placed in front of us than Knox’s request. I sit up straighter, seeing chicken and steak on my plate. I glance at Knox.

  He cringes. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I say.

  “It is?” he asks.

  “Yeah, could you just take them off my plate? I’ll eat the mashed potatoes and vegetables.”

  He takes the meat off my plate, but then he flags down a waiter. “Do you guys have a vegetarian option? I must’ve ordered wrong for my date.”

  The man looks at me and takes my plate away. “I’ll be right back.”

  Knox sits there while everyone else eats.

  “Eat,” I whisper to him.

  “No, I’ll wait.”