Our eyes connect. His are scratchy and tired. Stubble sprouted days ago is filling in his cheeks, his jaw.
A plate—or maybe several by the sound of it—shatter in the kitchen, yanking me from my stupor. The breakfast crowd is hopping, and customers need serving. I make it one step from behind the counter when Knox, seated on the end stool, halts me with a question. “Can we talk?”
Don’t ask me why, but I double down on my attitude and angle my nose to the north, feeling like a snitty, offended twelve-year-old. “I have to work.”
The twitching about his mouth reaches his eyes for a nanosecond before both settle into seriousness. “I’ll wait.”
“Saturdays are busy all day.”
He peers over his mug, wearing an undefinable sparkle, a sparkle building in intensity the longer I stiff-arm him. “I’ve got all day.”
I deliver a squint bordering on a glare—then scurry off like a coward to tend to the line forming at the checkout counter. Why must people always decide to leave at the same time?
When the line has been taken care of, Knox is still taking up valuable counter space, and it appears, in my absence, another waitress delivered him a meal, long enough ago that the plate in front of him is licked clean. Sipping coffee, he scrolls his phone. Other times when I’ve checked, he was watching me. Kinda creepy, as a matter of fact.
I puff away another stubborn hair that keeps tickling my cheek. Nope, I don’t even buy my own lies. There is not a single creepy thing about Knox. Which, sadly, scratches off one of the canned excuses I employ for pushing men—
I clamp my hand over my mouth and sweep my gaze around the dining room to see if anyone read my thoughts. Omigosh. Idopush men away.
Better tuck that realization back in the box before Oakley sees, or there’ll be no peace on earth the rest of my holiday stay in Chandor.
This is all Lance’s doing, him and his faultfinding ways.
Time to face my problems. I beeline for my stalker. My super-cute-prior-to-running-out-on-me stalker. He gets one more chance, but his explanation better be top notch.
I park my derriere on the stool adjacent Knox. “Why did you disappear for six days?”
As soon as the question hits the airwaves I want to yank my pathetic-ness back.
Knox sets his phone down, his gaze steady and thoughtful. “I got a phone call about my grandmother. She fell and broke her hip. She was unconscious for quite a while, and they didn’t know if she hit her head on the way down or if something else was wrong.”
I chew my lip. “Is this the grandmother you decorated the tree with?”
He nods.
And here I was sulking. “Oh, Knox, I’m so sorry. How is she?”
“Much better. Recovering. They think a new medication she was taking caused her to pass out. There was some bleeding in the brain, but it resolved itself.”
“I’m so glad.”
“Me too.”
Our gazes hold.
“You had disappeared into the kitchen. I waited a few minutes, but then my dad called with info about a flight he’d booked for me. I barely made it to the airport in time as it was.”
Atop the bright red apron, I knead my hands. I am a self-centered moron. “Kansas City, right?”
He nods. “I thought about you a lot, Everly, but I didn’t have your number.”
“You could have looked up the diner and called here.”Ooo. Not what I meant to say.Then again, I might as well get all my fretting what-ifs out of my system at once.
His mouth tugs to the side. “A landline? Never once crossed my mind.”
I smirk. “Not the brightest bulb on the tree, are ya?”
On the heels of a flash of surprise, he laughs along. But he sobers, watching me with palpitation-inducing intensity. “What I’ve been wondering for days is…what would your answer have been if I had called?”
