“I can fire you next, Crawford.” Knox groans and melds our foreheads. Our eyes meet. I giggle. He grins. “Sorry about him.”
“Not a problem.” The whole thing is too funny not to laugh. I mean, why not? Mortification can wait till morning.
Laughter rings out and a door closes. I peek, making sure we’re on our own again.
I’m all in for more kissing, but Knox keeps me wrapped up and walks me toward our—I mean,his—room. He takes the keycard from his pocket and holds the door open. I hop to the bed, sitting on the jumble of white sheets. Knox lingers in the doorway, shoulder wedged against the frame. His hair is damp, his cheeks are pink.
“You’re letting the warm air out,” I say.
The glow of the lamp mounted outside the entrance casts his face in a yellow glow. “I think I’ll watch the snow a little longer.”
“It’s freezing cold out there.”
He clicks his tongue. “Exactly.”
If I haven’t been flushed since second one of our kiss, I know I am now.
“Go to sleep, Ev. I’ll be in in a bit.”
Chapter 22
Everly
Ametallic pounding shoots my eyelids open.
As I yawn and stretch, fragmented recall slowly re-pixelates into clear memories. Motel room. Ice. Car trouble.
Snow kisses.
I touch my lips as the perpetrator himself drags his body from the floor and stumbles to the source of the intrusive knocking. The recalcitrant, twisty sprig of hair waves from his head. I roll onto my side and watch him slide the chain.
Yawning, Knox runs his hand over the wayward hair, as if he knows the unruly piece is acting up because it’s misbehaved his entire life.
Utterly adorable.
The door opens and daylight cuts through the darkness blackout curtains held at bay.
“Mornin’, Knox.” Cliff crosses the threshold. “Just letting you know the truck’s back. Do you want to grab some breakfast? I was thinking—”
The foreman’s gaze and mine collide. We mutually gawk.
My brain starts slow in the mornings. This is an obvious should-have-hidden-myself situation. Is it too late to dive under the covers and hope he forgets what he saw?
“Well, I…pardon me.” Cliff removes his cap, like some gentleman in an old movie, and glances back to Knox, whose ears are turning the color of Santa’s suit. “Didn’t realize you had company.” He makes a show of being serious, but it’s becoming as plain as the red on Knox’s cheeks that finding me in Knox’s…um, bed…has just made his day.
Knox’s palm rises like a giant stop sign. “Now, Cliff, about this…”
“Merry almost-Christmas, Knox!” Marlene singsongs, two-stepping into the room and locking her arm through Cliff’s. “Isn’t the snow just gorgeous!”
Cliff elbows Marlene’s bony side and jerks his head toward the bed.
Glittery, red-tipped fingers sail to my coworker’s mouth. Her gasp could wake the neighbors. “Everly Wilkes.”
My exclaimed name carries the ring of the most un-scold scold ever.
As we four adults freeze and take turns staring at one another, some in mock dismay, others in real, it’s a tossup whose reaction wins the prize.
People’s words aren’t matching their expressions. The riotous twinkle in Marlene’s eyes doesn’t jive with the dismay of her tone. Knox and I have genuinely surprised our visitors, but scandalized them? I don’t think so.
