I hate the way my pulse vibrates through me. The feeling is unfamiliar, but I think it might be hope? Or excitement? Either way, I need a cold shower and a spicy dose of reality to remind me that I had my chance with Emery Bennett, and I fucked it up like I always did.
I swallow hard. “That’s good. Should we come up with a plan to avoid each other? We can claim different parts of town, but I’m warning you now, the south side is mine.There’s this little brewery I like, and I dominate trivia night there.”
Okay, maybe not dominate, but I’m a great cheerleader. My brother leads our team, and I chant him on while he uses that big brain of his. It’s become our special tradition, and I would be sad to see it go.
Emery scoffs again, and I’m starting to think if she was a bird, that would be her call. “I’ve been here for a week, and I haven’t managed to run into you yet, so I think I’ll be fine. As soon as you fix my truck, we can go our separate ways.”
“Right,” I say, ignoring the lump in my throat.
When I spot the storefront I’ve driven past countless times over the years, I slow the truck to a stop and ease my way to the side of the road.
As soon as the vehicle is in park, the passenger door flings open, and Emery hits the pavement. The commotion wafts the scent of cherries and white jasmine straight toward me, and I melt into my seat.
It took me weeks to get that smell out of my old truck, but hopefully, fate will take it easy on me this time. However, based on this fun little coincidence, I highly doubt it.
“Wait up,” I yell, launching myself out of my own seat. I slam the door and jog to the other side of the truck.
When I get there, Emery’s eyebrows are pressed together in determination as she unlatches the first ratchet strap without untightening it. I close my eyes and shake my head, waiting for the first bang as the weight of the dresser, or whatever the heck she called it, shifts.
“Shit,” she breathes out, lifting her hands away from the piece.
I try really hard to bite my tongue and hold in my laugh, but it’s useless. I’ve never been one to hold back and I’m not going to start now.
Emery whips her head toward me with the nastiest deathglare I’ve ever seen on a woman, and I’ve had my fair share of those looks.
She keeps glaring at me, and I raise my eyebrows, expecting her to say something. Then she flicks her head toward the rest of the straps and places her hands on her hips, waiting for me to jump in and save the day.
“No, no, no,” I say low and slow, lounging against the side of the tow truck. “You look like you’ve got it handled.”
“Knox,” Emery growls, tipping her head toward me as annoyance bubbles under the surface of her porcelain skin.
“Use your words. You know what I like to hear.”
That causes the light red tint under her skin to poke through, making it look like her head’s about to explode any minute. Another satisfying wave of amusement washes over me. I am having way too much fun with this.
And then another realization hits me—I missed this. I missed annoying her and seeing that small vein poke through on her forehead. We only had that one summer, but it was long enough to get to know her better than I’ve ever allowed myself to know anyone else.
“Can you please help me so I can go back to forgetting you exist?” she asks with a tight and almost endearing smile.
Ouch. My lungs constrict and my stomach tightens. She sure could land a punch when she wanted to.
“Fine,” I huff. I’m tempted to cover up the hurt on my face with a joke or something flirty to lighten the mood, but when I search for something to say, I come up empty.
I let out a big sigh, walking over to her. I stare down at the place where her hand is still tightly situated on the strap and clear my throat. She tears her eyes away from mine and quickly jumps back.
“You need to pull back on this latch to loosen the strap,” I say, demonstrating the motion before stepping aside.
“You’re not going to do it for me?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.
“No,” I reply, hating the way my words feel tight and serious now. “I figured you’d want to learn for yourself. I may be a clueless idiot, but I can deduce that you’ll be hauling things a lot in this truck. Especially with taking over your grandma’s antique shop. You need to know how to do this if you’re going to go back to ignoring me.”
Emery’s face relaxes into light shock, and her lips fall open. “I never said I was taking over her shop,” she whispers.
“I know,” I say, shoving my hands in the front pockets of my jeans, “but I remember you talking about how much you loved her shop when we were kids. If you’re sticking around, that’s got to be why.”
Her eyes widen slightly, pinning me in place. “You remember that?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.
“Yes,” I respond. “I might talk a lot, but I’m capable of listening too.”
