He Loves Me...KNOT

by RC Boldt

  Which is why, through squinty eyes, I question him wearily. “What are you wearing?”

  As if just now recalling what he has strapped to the front of him—one of those soft baby carriers—his lips curl up in an easy grin. “I’m getting ready for the baby.” He announces this with such confidence and pride that I’d laugh if I knew it wouldn’t make my head hurt more than it currently does.

  “I just installed the car seat in my SUV, too, so I’ll be ready for uncle duties.” He shakes his head with a grimace. “Man, that sucker was a bitch to figure out.”

  I lean back farther in my chair, letting my eyes fall closed. Barely withholding a wince as a sharp, searing pain slices my skull, I reach up to massage my temples.

  “Blue, you need to go home.”

  “Am I interrupting?”

  Without meaning to, I flinch, releasing a whimper at the sound of Knox’s voice in my doorway.

  My eyes flash open and lock with Becket’s, and I instantly recognize the fierce protectiveness and a hint of anger within their depths. If I weren’t feeling like utter crap, I’d say something to get Becket to calm down and just leave me be.

  Right now, however, that’s the least of my worries because I’m rapidly nearing the point where my migraine is inducing nausea.

  “No need to draw out the big guns, there, Fun Police.” Becket moves around the desk to approach Knox, a friendly smile on his face as he prepares to pour on the charm and smooth talking he’s perfected over the years. He holds out a hand to Knox. “Becket Jones. Nice to meet you.”

  When their handshake lasts a second or two longer than normal, I can’t help but wonder if the two of them did that typical let’s see who can squeeze the other’s hand harder thing.

  “I was concerned about your employee here working so hard that she doesn’t have time for lunch. Not only that, but she’s battling a near-debilitating migraine now. The best thing for her is to head home and get some rest.” Becket peers over at me, and I offer a weak smile, attempting to get back to my task at hand and focus on the computer monitor.

  “I hardly think a little headache warrants the need to leave work early.”

  Please don’t push this, Becket, I beg silently. I know he means well, but I don’t want Knox’s backlash from it.

  “Well, I think she’d be more productive if she were able to leave early and rest at home. Then she could get back to one hundred percent and tackle the immense workload you’ve saddled her with.”

  Ouch. There’s no way Knox missed that little jab.

  “Plus,” Becket lowers his voice conspiratorially, “I was discussing ad space at our stadium, and I have a connection who would offer it at a bargain price.”

  A wave of nausea suddenly hits me with violent intensity, and I rear back in my chair, the bottom wheels sliding back from my desk. I rush past both men, praying I can make it to my restroom in time.

  “You okay?”

  Becket’s voice calls out from the other side of the door.

  Leaning over the sink, I cup some water in my hand and rinse out my mouth yet again before I manage to force out a weak response.

  “I’ll be right out.”

  Paper towel in hand, I pat around the corners of my mouth and attempt to smooth down my hair. Exiting the restroom, I’m met by my best friend.

  “You’re going home.” His tone brooks no argument.

  A resigned sigh escapes me as I walk back to my desk. “I can’t and you know this.” With dread, I note that it’s only twelve thirty in the afternoon.

  I can practically feel Becket bristling with irritation as he follows me and we both stop short at the sight of Knox, still standing in the doorway.

  He runs a hand over the back of his neck before sliding both hands into the pockets of his dark, pinstriped suit pants. “You need to go home. You’re sick. Why don’t you just come in early or stay late tomorrow to make up for it?”

  I falter, surprised by his offer. Surprised and…suspicious.

  “Only if you agree to write that in a memo and we both sign it with a witness. Because I don’t want this to end up in my personal file as an unauthorized absence.”

  Knox releases a laugh that sounds a bit surprised. “I’ll have my secretary draft it right now. Be back in two minutes.” With that, he exits, leaving me to stare numbly after him.

  “Let’s get you packed up.” Becket redirects me and I start gathering my belongings and placing them in my briefcase.

  He guides me around my desk, his palm at the base of my back. “We’ll get you settled in bed, and you’ll feel right as rain by morning.”

  “Thanks, Beck.”

  “Anything for my favorite girl.” He winks at me.

  “Here we go.” Knox reappears with two papers and a pen in hand and walks over to my small table. “Just need your signature on both and one copy is yours.”

  Becket reads it over before offering a short nod. With a quick scrawl of my signature and Becket’s as the designated witness, I stuff my copy inside my briefcase and mutter a subdued, “Thank you,” to Knox.

  Becket offers the bag of takeout. “Here, man. Won’t be needing this since she’s so under the weather. Enjoy.”

  Knox grasps it numbly, and Becket guides me out of my office, palm at my back protectively.

  And once again, Becket saves me from Knox Montgomery.

  6

  Knox

  I’m unable to tear my eyes away from the sight of Becket Jones’s hand at the base of Emma Jane’s spine. The way he dotes on her, the natural way he touches her, affection is obvious in his actions. Like she’s his.

  Hell, of course she is. I mean, there’s been speculation over the years, but this seems to confirm it.

  And what the hell was that thing he had strapped to his chest?

  I tried to continue to be a hard-ass, but it became undeniably evident that she was in pain. When she abruptly fled, her pale face in obvious distress, for the restroom attached to her office, I knew I had to give a little.

  Gazing at the empty doorway after they’ve already gone, I can’t deny my lingering concern. The possibility that I played a role in causing her to fall ill…well, it doesn’t sit well with me.

  With a glance down at the paper in my hand that holds our signatures, I hesitate a moment, as a part of me realizes how ridiculous it was to have to document an employee going home sick for the day. But I did this and…

  No. I mentally shake off the errant thoughts trying to cloud my vision. She did this. She’s the one who set this in motion years ago.

  When the opportunity to purchase—and turn around—another business came along with the bonus of also being the workplace of Emma Jane Haywood, there was no way I could pass it up.

  Now, I just need to keep my head in the game.

  “Still building your empire?”

  I exhale loudly. “It’s called business, Wells,” I reply as I talk to my best friend, Wells Kennedy, using my hands-free Bluetooth.

  I turn left as I navigate my way through the streets of Midtown, Jacksonville to the house I closed on a few weeks ago. It’ll serve as an income property once I finish all the improvements I have planned.

  “It’s called burying yourself in your work, living and breathing it, and never having an actual life.”

  “Is there a point to all this?” I ask in monotone.

  “You’re still trying to prove something, to prove to her that you—”

  “That’s enough.” My tone is sharp with finality.

  Wells falls silent on the other end, and I pull into my driveway. When I put the car into park, I lean my head back against the headrest and inhale deeply.

  My friend’s voice is subdued when he speaks again. “Look, I get it, but you and I both know that you haven’t had any real relationships—nothing lasting—since her.”

  My eyes fall closed wearily. “And?”

  “And,” he leads in, his voice softening slightly, “I want to know if you’ll finally b
e able to bury the past this time, when you’re done undertaking F&F. Will you be able to move on from her once and for all?”

  “Of course.” I declare this with much more confidence than I feel.

  For the remainder of the evening, long after Wells and I end our call, his words linger in my mind. Will I be able to move on from her once and for all?

  I sure as hell hope so.

  KNOX

  HIGH SCHOOL

  TENTH GRADE

  “Excuse me.”

  A prim and proper female voice interrupts me as I’m reaching inside my locker for my calculus book. Turning, I find Emma Jane Haywood standing there, eyeing me pointedly.

  My lips curve into a wide smile. “Ma’am?”

  She huffs out an annoyed breath, grasping the metal door of my locker and moving it from where it’s fallen wide open, blocking hers.

  “If your locker is right beside mine, could you possibly make some room for those on the”—she eyes me up and down critically, as if finding me distasteful—“leaner side?”

  “Leaner?” I cock an eyebrow, which doesn’t faze her the least. Figures. Her father owns, or had a hand in building, just about everything in Mobile. She probably had a golden pacifier as a baby. “I’ll have you know”—I lean in toward her—“that I’m lean in some ways, but where it counts the most, I’m considerably heavier.”

  Her pupils dilate before she gasps in outrage and elbows me aside to get to her locker.

  Watching her, I admire her profile as she manages to get her locker open and retrieve the necessary textbooks.

  I lean down, bringing my lips to her ear and whisper huskily, “Same time tomorrow, EJ?”

  Her head snaps around, and she narrows her eyes at me dangerously. “It’s Emma Jane.” To anyone else, they’d assume she was ticked off. But I know different. She’s intrigued.

  Slamming my locker shut, I wink at her before turning to head off to class. “Later, EJ.”

  I grin when she makes a frustrated noise. Yep, I chuckle silently, I reckon she’s into me.

  And then I promptly make a U-turn when I realize I’m headed in the wrong direction for calculus.

  7

  Emma Jane

  Present

  JULY

  “It’s about time you called me, Sweet Pea. I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten all about this dapper young man.”

  I grin at the sound of my granddad’s voice. With my cell phone at my ear, I exit the café located in the lobby of our office building, my large latte in hand and briefcase strap draped over my other shoulder.

  “Now, who is this dapper young man you’re referring to? I can’t say that I recall knowing anyone like that…” I trail off, teasing.

  “Ah, my dear girl.” He chuckles softly, and I’m bombarded with exactly how much I miss him.

  It’s a blessing he’s in good enough health to fly in and visit me from time to time since I haven’t been back to Mobile since that fateful day. But I miss going to see him at his house, the Haywood Mansion. After my grandmother passed away, he’d opened the mansion up to events, claiming he wanted to see life take over the home once again. My grandmother had loved to entertain and throw parties, and by holding weddings and reunions and such gatherings there, he always said it made him feel closer to her.

  Sobering as I near the bank of elevators, I consider the other employees nearby before I lower my voice. “Have you heard who took over?”

  The silence that greets me on the other end tells me everything I need to know. Quickly checking the time, I see that I have a few minutes to spare so I step off to the side where there’s slightly less foot traffic and listening ears.

  “Granddad,” my tone is hushed, “why didn’t you say anything?”

  “It wasn’t my place.”

  Heaving out a frustrated sigh, I shake my head. “You didn’t think it was your place to tell me, your own granddaughter, that the guy who ripped my heart to shreds would be my new boss and owner of the company?”

  He simply sighs in return. “Sweet Pea. Y’all have to work things out on your own. I can’t interfere.”

  Right. We always come back to this. Grandma had always preached about fate and not intervening, letting it work itself out.

  Granddad still believes Knox and I will, someday, work out our differences. One would think after eight years, he’d realize it wasn’t going to happen.

  “Other than that, how are things? How’s Becket doing?”

  At the mention of my best friend, my shoulders feel less weighted down. “He’s great. Working hard as always.”

  “Ah, he’s a good man.” I can hear the smile in Granddad’s voice.

  My brow furrows as a curious thought dawns on me. “Granddad? Why haven’t you ever asked about me and Becket and whether we’re dating?”

  “Because I know you’re not.” His answer comes readily before his tone softens. “And because you’re meant to be with someone else, of course.”

  Of course, I muse internally with a touch of sarcasm.

  He quickly changes gears, inquiring about my upcoming work projects. Before I know it, it’s time for me to head up in the elevator and I end our call since I’ll lose cell signal.

  For the entire ride up to my floor, his words run on a loop in the back of my mind.

  “And because you’re meant to be with someone else, of course.”

  “Alissa what?”

  This is one of those times when I hear what the other person says—loud and clear—but I’m far too deep in shock for the words to register.

  “Alissa went into premature labor so they’re monitoring her at the hospital right now. She’s officially on maternity leave.” Alissa’s friend Jackie, who works down on the eighth floor, offers a sympathetic smile.

  Probably because she knows I’m barely keeping up with the workload Knox’s dumped on me as it is. Without my assistant, I’m up a creek without a paddle.

  But this pales in comparison to Alissa, of course. Damn. This stress is making me selfish now, too.

  “But she’s doing okay?”

  “Oh, yes,” Jackie answers. “She’s just on bedrest and they’re ensuring she and the baby are all right.”

  “Thank goodness.” Especially since Alissa’s not due for another month.

  “Well, I’ve got to get back to work. I just wanted to be sure you knew.”

  She backs away hesitantly, as if she senses my growing sense of despair. As if I’ll suddenly decide to hold her prisoner and saddle her with some of this work.

  Which isn’t such a bad idea now that I consider it.

  “Bye, Ms. Haywood.” Damn. Jackie darts down the hallway. So much for that idea, even if it’s dripping in pure desperation.

  The stack of files sitting on my assistant’s desk draws my attention, and my entire body slumps as if recognizing defeat.

  Looks like this is going to be a really long Thursday.

  “I know I’m supposed to be on board with the whole, ‘Oh, our boss is the big, bad Grinch,’ thing, but can I please have a quick time-out on that?”

  I eye Madison over the rim of my coffee cup as we sit in the company café on what she deemed an “enforced ten-minute break” for me, but begrudgingly heed her request. “Go ahead.”

  She nods. “Okay then.” With a quick glance around, she leans in closer and lowers her voice. “If I were on the market for a man—”

  I frown in confusion. “Which you are.”

  She holds up a finger. “If I were on the market for a man who’s crazy handsome, has a sexy broodiness, and can rock a suit like nobody’s business, I’d be all over Knox Montgomery like white on rice.”

  At her extended pause, I raise my eyebrows in expectation. “But?”

  Madison scowls. “Well, obviously I can’t because he’s off-limits since he gets all Grouchy Smurf on you.”

  As it turns out, she’s never witnessed an interaction between Knox and me, so she only has my account to go by.

/>   Amused, I tip my head to the side. “Are you finished?”

  She scrunches her nose in consternation. “I think so.”

  “Well…” I exhale wearily, covering my face with my hands after noting the time. “I have to head back upstairs and get to work.”

  “That would be a wise choice, Ms. Haywood.” The deep voice causes me to jerk in alarm, and my hands drop from my face to land in my lap.

  The instant my gaze locks with his, I find myself drowning in the same pair of green eyes that were once filled with love.

  Now, however, they’re filled with cool disdain. And even after all this time, there’s a sharp pinch in the center of my chest, as if my heart still recognizes the man who broke it.

  Mentally shaking off the melancholy, I rise from the chair and push it in and Madison follows suit, her eyes volleying nervously between Knox and me.

  I force myself to maintain cool confidence as I stride past him without a word.

  As Madison and I toss our empty coffee cups in the trash bin at the door before exiting the coffee shop, she whispers, “Never mind. I get it now.” She lets out a disgruntled sound as we head to the elevators to take us to our designated floors. “Another corporate suit without a personality.”

  We enter the empty elevator car and press the numbered buttons for our floors. She looks over at me with an odd expression, as if she wants to say something but is unsure.

  “Go ahead. Say whatever you’re thinking.”

  Her lips twist in hesitation before she exhales loudly. “I just swear I felt something else in that interaction back there.”

  Instantly, my spine stiffens in alarm, but I don’t respond, and Madison presses on.