There are definitely sparks there.
By the time Dee and I finish our coffee, and whatever charged moment that was between her and Nova, I'm half hoping Knox is still busy wrangling Jace and won’t have time to talk. But of course, life has other plans.
As I help Nova prep the dining room for the lunch shift, I feel him before I see him. The way the air changes. Like I’m suddenly too aware of everything, my hands, my breathing, the heat climbing up my neck.
Then his voice, low and warm, cuts through the quiet.
“Need a hand with that?”
I glance up, and there he is, Knox, leaning against the edge of the counter like sin incarnate in a black tee and that look in his eyes that always seems to unravel me.
“I’m good,” I say, not unkindly, just cautious. I reach for a stack of menus, trying to stay focused, but he follows me anyway.
“You’ve been busy lately,” he says, and there’s something in his voice, gentle, pointed.
“Yeah,” I murmur, smoothing down the tablecloth. “Lots going on.”
“I miss you.” His voice is quieter this time.
I freeze for half a second. Then I smile, because it’s easier than letting myself react. “You see me every day.”
“You know what I mean.” He steps closer, and then, please help me, he brushes a piece of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear like we’re in a damn movie.
My knees go a little soft. I almost lean into his touch.
Almost.
Because then, like a lightning bolt, I remember the look on Gracie’s face when she sat across from me on her phone, fingers trembling slightly as she scrolled.
“Article from five years ago. Bar fight. DUI rumors. Another about him being ‘uncoachable.’ And wait. Oh. Savannah Monroe.”
Iknowit was five years ago.
I get that he can change.
But I still need to know that this isn’t going to be just a short-term thing.
I step back before I can talk myself out of it.
“It’s messy,” I say, fiddling with a napkin. “You and me, here. Working together. If it goes wrong, it doesn’t just blow up our personal lives. It messes with the restaurant. With everything.”
His brow furrows. “You didn’t care about that before.”
“I didn’t think about it before,” I lie.
His jaw tightens, but only for a second. Then he exhales, slow and steady, like he’s trying not to push too hard.
“I’m not going anywhere, Josie. And I’m not scared of messy.”
“You should be,” I whisper, barely able to look at him. “It never ends well.”
We stand there in silence, the clatter of the kitchen muffled in the background, tension stretching tight between us.
Then, mercifully, Nova calls my name from the bar, breaking the moment. I murmur something about needing to check the seating chart and practically bolt.
Because the truth is, I want him.
I want his hands, his mouth, the way he makes me feel like the only thing in the room. But I can’t shut off the part of me that saw that video, that read those articles, that listened to Gracie read aloud the words controlling and dangerous like they were carved into stone.
