“Well, this one is mostly pain. I worked for Uncle Charlie when I was in high school and off and on through college. Everybody else was smart enough to keep their distance.”
He makes a throaty, laugh-like sound. “He did strike me as a bit crotchety.”
“You’re too kind.” We share a smile before I sigh again, ashamed as much as tired. “It’s not that I don’t want to help, and I love him, truly, but trust me, running the dump he’s letthis place deteriorate into was not on my agenda this holiday season.”
Knox settles his elbow onto the top of the cash register. “What was on your agenda?”
Huh. I must say this evening has taken an interesting turn. “Well, I—”
My phone sounds off, loudly, from my apron pocket. I hold up my finger. “I have to get this.”Do you? Do you really, Ev?
I half-step away to listen to Oakley explain how a strong front is blowing through and I need to be sure and haul in the trash can when I get home so it won’t roll around the street all night. If I know my sister at all, she drove or walked past the trash can a dozen times today.
Talk about a call voicemail could have fielded.
Truth? I needed to press pause. There’s more to this Knox guy than I presumed at first blush, and honestly, I didn’t presume much except that his lunch crew was particularly obnoxious.
Am I up for a holiday flirtation?
Of course not. Aside from the fact I never learned the art, common sense is my middle name and Chandor is no longer home. A relationship would be impractical. And besides…a construction guy? I’m one of those annoying cerebral types, thinking and reading all the time. I’d bore the man to tears.
I tend to be attracted to bookish types, and, so shoot me, I’ve worked in law offices long enough to be partial to men in nice suits.
Although…this particular guy may have cornered the market on rough and rugged, manly charm. The silk-suited attorneys I surround myself with in my real life may have to step up their game.
My stomach dips, and Oakley’s ramblings further blur my brainwaves.
The cash register still bears some of Knox’s weight. Shoved up sleeves on his thermal work shirt tease corded forearms sprinkled with the exact right amount of dark hair.
Oakley’s goodbye finally registers. Once the lump in my throat settles, I whip up my customer smile. “I really need to get going, Knox.”
In fact, I’m in such a rush that, until five minutes ago, I was planning on setting up a Christmas tree tonight.
His thick eyelashes flicker. Straightening, he taps the counter. “Yep. Same here. Sorry to keep you.”
“Not at all. I appreciate the help.”
“Sure thing.” He takes his coat from the chair and slides his arms inside, adjusting the collar once it’s on him.
“Don’t forget your boots.”Dumb, Everly. It would have taken all of two seconds of wet pavement to remind the man not to leave without his footwear.
Yet, he clicks his tongue and wags his finger as if I make a stellar point.
I quash a silly eyeroll. “Have a nice evening,” But once out, my words ring like a dismissal, as if I didn’t enjoy our time together embarrassingly much and can’t wait to be rid of him. Which I am.
But also kind of not.
He full stops. His deep gaze meets mine with the kind of direct look a man gives a woman when he means more than the words coming out of his mouth. “’Night, Everly.”
Swallowing is a challenge. “Goodnight, Knox.”
He stoops, but the cowlick still manages to swipe the jingle bells over the door.
I thumb through a stack of tickets, pretending not to watch him steady himself with a hand on the glass in the entryway, tugging on one boot, and then the next.
He has one foot out the exterior door when he pivots, poking his head back inside. “Hey, Everly?”
Here’s hoping my casual upward glance covers for my thudding heartbeat. “Yes?”
