“Good enough to co-sign my loan?” Knox asks, immediately going in for the kill. My hands start to feel clammy as I grip the thin fabric of my jeans. If he gets the yes tonight, then our arrangement is over. I have my truck, and once he gets the sign-off, he has his shop.
I expect a quick answer, but all I hear is silence. My handsshake at my sides, wondering if I should go in and plead Knox’s case. If George knew how passionate his son is about the garage, then maybe he’d reconsider.
George lets out the world’s longest sigh. “Son, I’m still not sure. Just the other day, Rob was telling me how his mom went two towns over to get her oil changed because she didn’t want to be associated with a…”
“Say it,” Knox taunts him.
“A home-wrecker.” The single word comes out sharp and rough like sandpaper.
My stomach twists. It’s a word I’m familiar with, yet it doesn’t fit the man on the other side of this door.
Knox doesn’t respond right away. Instead, tension begins to grow quietly. “You think I don’t know what people say about me?” he says, his voice surprisingly calm and devoid of the sadness that should be there. “I know exactly what people are thinking, but I know they’re wrong. Sure, I didn’t help matters, but I wasn’t the one who—never mind. It doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that I don’t want to do business with people who are that quick to turn on me. I’ve worked my ass off for this and I won’t let one mistake ruin it all. I just need you to believe in me. I just need this one small favor, and I promise you won’t regret taking a chance on me.”
My breath hitches. For once, his words are raw and vulnerable. Every syllable feels like a promise that I don’t doubt he’ll keep.
“It’s not about believing in you, Knox. Trust me, if it was, I’d sign the papers tomorrow. But this is a business, and if you’re going to run your own, then you need to understand what a good investment is.”
“And I’m not a good investment,” Knox snaps, his voice low and strained.
“No, I?—”
“It’s fine, Dad,” he says, cutting George off. “I’ll find another way.”
“Wait, Knox,” his dad pleads, but I can already hear heavy footsteps coming my way.
My pulse thunders to life, and I quickly scan all possible exits. But unfortunately, I have zero super spy skills and end up crashing into a thick wall of muscle before I can make a run for it.
“Bambi?” Knox questions, lifting my chin with his finger. “You heard everything, didn’t you?”
I nod slowly, not bothering to think of some lame excuse. Instead, I do an even more lame thing and wrap my arms around the giant, pulling him in for an unplanned hug. Crystal is rubbing off on me.
At first, his body is tense, and I worry he’s going to push me away. But muscle by muscle, he eases into me until his arms are circling my waist, drawing me closer. My cheek presses against his chest, where I can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath the cotton of his shirt. The comforting aroma of amber and pine rises to meet me, causing something to twirl inside me.
All at once, I fight the urge to rip off his T-shirt. Not for nefarious reasons, but so that I can preserve that scent and keep it with me always.
“Are you okay?” I ask, but the words are muffled.
“No,” he whispers into my hair, “but I will be. I might need your services for longer than expected, though.”
I run my tongue against the roof of my mouth and count to five before giving up the comfort of a warm chest. I step back and look into his eyes when I say, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m too invested to give up now.”
His mouth twitches, but I crave to see his smile. “Haven’t you heard? Apparently, I’m a bad investment.”
“Lucky for you, I like fixer-uppers,” I say, hitting him with an unexpected wink and promptly receiving a victorious smile.
“That was so unbelievably cheesy, Bambi,” he says. “You’re stealing my thing.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t remind me.”
“Whatever. Let’s talk more about your investment,” Knox says, walking me to the front door. “Should I expect quarterly reports and performance reviews?”
“Please. You wouldn’t last one day with me as your boss.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Let’s finish our current agreement, then we can renegotiate. Plus, you’re scary as a fake girlfriend. I can’t imagine you as a boss.”
“And don’t you forget it, Cooke.”
Little does he know that I’m the one terrified of him and the way I find it harder and harder to pretend that anything about this is fake.
