by Erika Kelly
“It is,” a woman said. “I’m sure of it.”
Was it just that her antennae were out and scanning for trigger words? Had to be. No one’s sitting in this fancy restaurant talking about you. Get over yourself.
“Holy shit, you’re right. It is the junkyard dog.” The voice was loud enough to get Callie swinging around to see who was talking, so, unfortunately, no, she wasn’t overreacting.
In an uncharacteristically loud voice, Callie said. “Ignore them. People are assholes.”
“What’s going on?” Delilah leaned in, clearly aware of the tension.
The old Knox would’ve looked them right in the eye, flipped them the bird, and then come up with a plan for swift retribution. But, not only didn’t she have the energy for that kind of crap anymore, she wouldn’t embarrass Delilah in her elegant restaurant.
She would, though, prepare her in case things got ugly. Focused on twisting the ring on her finger, she said, “In school, they used to call me the junkyard dog.” Brace. “And just to be sure I fully got the reference, they’d bark at me. My mom wasn’t home a lot, so I got to hear it all by myself in the trailer as they’d drive by.”
For a long, tense moment, neither of the women said anything. So help me…if she saw even a hint of pity in their eyes, she was out of there. Instead, Delilah grabbed both her hands, and said, “No wonder you haven’t wanted to go out with us. I wouldn’t want anything to do with these jerks, either.” She gave them a firm squeeze. “I’m sorry. That’s a terrible way to grow up.”
“Want to get out of here?” Callie said.
“Nope.” Now that the truth was out, the bullies couldn’t hurt her anymore. “I’m good. Let’s finish our drinks.
“Okay, so, back to losing it too young.” Callie lifted her wine glass. “Here’s to finding the right man to have mind-blowing sex with.”
“Oh, here, here.” Delilah squirmed. “Nothing so good as when it’s the right guy.”
“What about in Paris?” Callie asked Knox. “Did you have a hot Parisian boyfriend?”
Finally, something fun to say. “I did. It was never serious—believe me, I was working all the time—but he definitely wined and dined me. His family had a chateau in the Loire Valley, and we basically traveled all over Europe together.”
“Arf arf arf.”
A burst of laughter followed the yipping, and it rattled her bones. Knox was stunned. Stunned that, at twenty-five, they hadn’t outgrown their evil ways.
And then, a deeper, more booming voice, barked. Before Knox could even devise her eye-for-an-eye plan, Delilah shot up so quickly her chair actually toppled over. She strode the few feet over to the cluster of idiots laughing at the bar. In a quiet, but hard, voice she gestured for the bartender and said, “Settle up their tab right now, Clarence.”
“Oh, we’re not done,” a man said.
“We just got here.” Cady.
Knox would recognize the whine in that voice anywhere.
“And now you’re leaving.”
Wait, what? Knox had to turn around to witness Delilah taking up for her.
The man scoffed. “You can’t tell us what to do.”
“Sure, I can,” Delilah said. “I’m the owner, and we don’t serve juveniles here.”
“You think I’m underage?” The man laughed. “You want my ID?”
“I want you out of my restaurant. Only a soulless person could bark at another human being, and we don’t serve the undead. You’re banned. For life.”
Cady hitched her Louis Vuitton bag up her shoulder, the get-out-of trouble card played by so many daughters of rich parents. “Do you know who I am?”
“I know that you’re a heartless bitch. Now, get out of my restaurant or I will not hesitate to make a scene and embarrass the hell out of you.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
The minute Knox walked in the door that evening, she tossed her tote onto the couch—the only surface in the entire room not loaded with sewing materials—and hit the kitchen. She needed tea. Warm, soothing tea.
Holding the kettle under the tap, it made her sick to see her hands shaking. She couldn’t believe Callie and Delilah had witnessed the barking. Did Cady Toller have no life? Hadn’t she had a single life experience that would’ve taught her some compassion?
God, she hated Calamity. Hated it. The kettle landed on the stove with a clatter, and she flipped the dial to high. Pulling down a mug from the cabinet, she dropped a tea bag into it.
To bark at her in a fancy restaurant…in front of Knox’s new friends.
Horrifying.
Opening the bottom drawer, she snapped a square of chocolate off the bar she kept hidden in a piece of aluminum foil. When that first bite of dark, creamy goodness hit her taste buds, she pulled in a deep breath and took in the bunkhouse, crammed now with work stations.
Some of her employees left theirs a mess of fabric, scissors, and measuring tape. Others left not a single item out of place.
This is who Callie and Delilah know. Not the girl in the trailer.
I’m a fashion designer, and I’m kicking ass.
Well, in the bunkhouse on the Bowe ranch, but still. She wouldn’t be here long.
The knock—no, pounding—on the door startled her. “Knox? It’s Gray.”
She hadn’t seen him since they’d returned from LA. The morning after the kiss.
Her fingers brushed over her lips. That kiss.
“Knox?”
She quickly wrapped the chocolate bar back up and stowed it in the drawer, before hurrying to the door. All these hours later, and she could still feel the hot imprint of his hungry mouth.
“I’m coming.” She sounded irritated when, really, she was thrilled.
She’d lain awake that night for hours, her body electrified, stunned that Gray Bowie wanted her with that kind of passion. But, also, scared witless, because nothing could happen between them. She would never compromise their friendship or their working relationship for a hookup—no matter how spectacular. And that’s all Gray had to offer.
A scorching, unforgettable round of sex.
He just wasn’t a relationship kind of guy.
Well, maybe he could make it work with someone in his posse, someone who shared his nomadic lifestyle. But she needed to be in one place, working.
She threw open the door. “What’s the matter?”
He looked her up and down, chest rising and falling, like he’d heard she’d been attacked by a mountain lion. But he didn’t say anything.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
He’d heard. Just awesome. “Okay, well.” She turned and walked away from him. Word had obviously gotten around about the barking, and the very last thing she needed was anyone’s pity. “Come in. I’m just making some tea. Want some?”
“No.”
Even before the kettle boiled, she poured the water.
He stood at the counter, watching her. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” She held the tea bag up by the string and dunked it just to have something to do. “Just…busy.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“No, I’ve got plenty of help. Everyone’s doing an amazing job. I’ve just never run a whole operation. I design, you know? Luc was kind enough to let me see the whole process, so I learned a lot, but my focus has always been on designing.”
He watched her carefully, like he was looking for scars. He wouldn’t find them. They’d embarrassed her, nothing more.
“Amelia says requests are rolling in,” he said.
“I’m going to have to start making some calls, but I’ve just been so busy.” What Ethan had overnighted was enough to get them started, but the rest of the fabric would come in different shipments. “At some point, I should probably take down the request for information link.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I’ve decided to follow Luc’s lead. He makes eight couture dresses a year. That’s what he’s lea
rned he can manage and still maintain his level of quality. I’ve already got three times that many requests, so it doesn’t make sense to keep the door open when I won’t be taking on any more projects.”
“Sounds reasonable.” He leaned forward, those inked forearms and strong wrists standing out against the black granite counter.
She wanted to trace the massive black wave rising out of a churning ocean. It was so vivid her fingertips itched to brush away the spray. “You know what your dad said to me once? He said, start out at the top. From there, the world’s your oyster. But, if you settle for less, it’s going to be a fight to get to the top.”
One half of his mouth curled up into the cutest grin. “That sounds like him.”
“So, what’s up? What brings you by?”
“I haven’t checked in for a while.”
“You check in with Amelia and Zach all the time.”
“I want to check in with you.”
I miss you. We shouldn’t let that kiss keep us from each other. She should just put it on the table, whisk away the weirdness. “It was a good kiss.”
Color spilled into his cheeks, spreading like a sunburn to his earlobes. There was something incredibly sexy about a boyish vulnerability in an extremely masculine, powerful man.
It gave her the courage to go on. “It might’ve been the best kiss I’ve ever had.”
He swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple jump. “But…?”
“But we can’t cross that line.”
“Right. Because…?”
“Because I like you. I like you better than anybody I’ve ever known.” Although Delilah had leapt to the top of her list tonight. “And we work together.”
Need crackled in his eyes. He wanted her.
Would she ever get used to the idea?
His fingertips tapped on the granite. “And I’m leaving soon.” The four simple words sounded like he’d pried them out of his throat with a tire iron. And, yet, he kept that nonchalant stance of his, like nothing mattered.
But she mattered to him. She knew it not just because of what he’d told her that night in the hotel room, but because for the very first time she could read the truth in his eyes and the tension in his body. And it was just so profound that she could see the world through something other than the bully lens. That she could see desire in his eyes and not aggravation or pity or whatever she might have interpreted in the past.
“Gray.” She didn’t even know how to deal with such a volatile cocktail of emotion. Affection for him, because it sank deep that she wasn’t—had never been—a pity project. Attraction, brand new, but potent and alive, like magnetic waves of energy flowing, colliding, sparking between them.
And fear. God, it scared her to death to have romantic feelings for a man like Gray.
She could fall so hard for him.
“We’re on totally different paths,” he said.
Love was complicated for her. Her mom hadn’t been reliable. She was the type of person who checked in with her daughter—You good? Texted pictures of her adventures, woke her up in the middle of the night to watch a meteor shower, and routinely stood at the sink to shovel dinner into her mouth before “heading out.” She sought her own pleasures in life, and while she cared about Knox, it was in a detached way.
Other than Robert—and that hadn’t been healthy—Knox hadn’t really loved anyone else.
What she felt for Gray was so much richer, deeper, more profound, because it involved her head and her heart, her body and her soul. It had the power to consume her.
“Right.” He tapped his knuckles on the counter. “So, that’s it. Glad everything’s going well.” He turned abruptly and headed for the door.
Panic fluttered in her chest. She set her mug down. Logically, she was making the right choice. But in her heart, she was freaking out. She didn’t want him to go, didn’t want this distance. She’d meant to bring up the kiss to dispel the weirdness between them but managed to drive him away with a conversation about the impossibility of a relationship.
You’re expert level at driving this man away.
Right when his hand closed around the door knob, she gave him what he’d come for. “It was awful. Tonight. Like tumbling back through time and being that girl again.” She came around the counter but didn’t move any closer to him.
He tensed, his whole body hard and alert. He tipped his forehead to the door. “I fucking hate that they did that to you.”
She shrugged. “They made fools of themselves.” And then she smiled. “But you should’ve seen Delilah. She was fierce.”
“Yeah?” Slowly, he turned toward her. “That’s what I heard. Good thing she was there. Otherwise I’d be in jail right now.” He opened the door and strode out onto the porch.
Don’t leave me. Stay, and we can lay in my bed on our backs, our feet against the wall, sharing a pack of cherry Twizzlers.
He sailed off the steps, landed on the grass, and turned to her, walking backwards. “Can you get away tomorrow morning?”
Happiness danced all over her skin. “Of course. What for?”
“A little field trip. Be ready at eight.”
“Shouldn’t you be training?” In the old days, Knox would be in nothing but a T-shirt and jeans. Today, the sharp chill in the air had her wearing a down jacket. She hadn’t lived in the mountains in a long time.
“Got in a few hours this morning. I’ll be back at it this afternoon.”
At a bend in the trail, she let him stride ahead of her. Mostly, because she wanted to take in all his rugged badassery. She’d always noticed his arms—who wouldn’t? Bulging biceps and hard forearms inked with unique and sexy art—but she’d never imagined them lifting her against the nearest tree. His hands on her body, skimming down her bare back and gripping her bottom.
The sizzle ripped through her, making her hairs stand on end.
No, she’d never imagined him doing that.
Since that kiss, though, it was all she could think about. “Where’re you taking me?”
“To my house.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Is that okay?”
“You don’t live in the main house?”
The canopy of pine trees cast a dark, cool shadow over the trail, and a gentle breeze made the branches shush overhead.
“Nah. That’s for Will and his family. Ruby doesn’t need a pile of us living there. She needs stability.”
The trail widened, and she caught up with him. “So, you…bought a place?”
“Built it.”
“You built a house?” Was there anything this man couldn’t do?
“Over time. It was just a little project.”
“I’m going to guess your brothers don’t know about it.” He opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off. “And don’t say they never asked.”
His deep rumble of a laugh kicked her pulse up a few notches. “They know. They helped build it.”
Their shoes crunched over pine needles, and the air smelled like rich soil and damp forest. He went quiet for a minute, and she could tell he had something on his mind.
When they emerged into bright sunlight, he said, “Been thinking about your business. You ever consider building a digital platform?”
“Oh, my God, Gray. If I left it to you, you’d build me an empire.” She smiled. “You know you’re pretty amazing, right? You don’t have a girlfriend, and I doubt your brothers tell you, so I just want to make sure you know.”
His fingers flexed, and for just one second hers automatically reacted, reached, as if he’d meant to grasp her hand. But, just as quickly, he balled them into a fist. “Just thinking about financial independence.”
Well, that rang like a bell inside her. “I think you know how much that would mean to me.” She’d never dreamed of being rich. Didn’t really need much to be happy. But she did want enough. Enough to pay her bills and not have to struggle. “What’re you thinking, exactly?”
“Every year two and a half million pe
ople get married. That’s seventy-five-billion bucks of revenue in the US and three-hundred billion globally.”
“You’ve done your research.”
He snapped a bright yellow flower off a shrub, gave it a brief sniff, before handing it to her. “But bridal’s the slowest growing arm of the fashion industry, because it’s just not adapting to digital trends. And this generation seems less interested in marriage—specifically, in spending money on a ceremony. They’d rather spend their money on adventures.” He cut her a look. “Did you know sixty-four percent of brides use Pinterest? There are thirty-eight million boards about weddings created by brides.”
Tucking the flower behind her ear, she said, “I didn’t know the exact number, but I’m on there a lot. I like to see what brides love.”
“Yeah, so, while the rest of the fashion world’s adapted, the bridal sector’s dragging its heels.” He shrugged. “Which is dumb, because the vast majority of your buyers are technological natives, so you’re missing out on a huge sector.”
“That’s because there’s a different level of craftmanship to a wedding dress. It’s a different animal.”
“Okay, still. Wedding gowns are a two-point-five-billion-dollar industry, and you could tap into that by going digital.”
“It’s a good idea. Maybe one day I will.”
“I just worry that, in making this ‘couture’ designation your goal, you’re not seeing the broader picture.”
“You want an Olympic medal. How is that different from me wanting to hit the highest level in my business?”
“Is it the highest level, though? I guess I’m thinking the highest level is having your brand the most sought-after in the marketplace. In any event, I’m not steering you away from your dream. All the big names have multiple lines. I’m suggesting you have something going at every level. I’m talking about creating a digital atelier.”
Oh. That was interesting.
“Nothing really changes. You’d still do the pop-up show and the custom orders, which leads to your eventual runway show. But the money maker, the business we’d build behind the scenes, that’s the digital shop.”
