Even without nude landscapes, her place was eclectic. All of the furniture came from the secondhand store, but she’d been careful to buy higher-quality pieces with no stains or broken springs under the couch cushions. Sure, none of the colors went together, but she sort of felt like the mishmash of swatches had become her personal stamp on decorating. Like her personal decorating style was I-give-no-fucks but somehow it works.
“I can’t go out and play tonight,” she admitted. “I have lines to learn.”
“I flew out to spend time with my fiancée, Chicka Boom.” He pouted, crossed his arms.
“We should’ve talked first, so you didn’t waste your time coming all the way here.” She sauntered to the counter, setting the script there. This sucked, she would way rather be out spending time with Knox than here memorizing an alien language that clearly didn’t exist.
“I called.” He tightened his arms. “Several times, actually.”
“Really?” Not that she hadn’t been checking her calls regularly, but if they weren’t from her agent or a wedding vendor, they ended up in the voicemail pit.
“Courtney tried, too, and because you didn’t answer, and she has a teething infant, I volunteered to come out here with Mach and Tanner to ensure you are still among the living.” He scanned her from head to toe. “I’m not convinced you’re among the living right now.”
He came all the way to California to check in on her? Her whole heart softened because that was…sweet.
“You look about ready to pass out.” He studied her.
“You have no idea.” She dropped her forehead to the pale-yellow tile squares on the counter, allowing the cool ceramic to soothe her for an instant before popping back to life.
“I think I might have an idea.” He unbuttoned his cuffs, sauntered into her space, and rolled up his sleeves. “When’s the last time you ate?”
“Lunch.” That was around noon. Now it was around nine. It wasn’t like it’d been that long in between meals. “Where are Mach and Tanner?”
“They headed out to meet up with friends. Last I checked.” Without missing a beat, Knox found her pantry. Not that it was hidden, but he had to open the door. He pushed past her stash of Cup o’ Noodles and unloaded pasta and a jar of marinara sauce from the depths. “We were going to catch up with them, but I guess I’m cooking for you, instead. This way I can confirm you are not dead status, and you do what you need to do.”
Actually, someone cooking for her sounded nice.
“Shouldn’t you ask before you just barge in?” she asked, but her heart wasn’t in it.
“Uh…” He glanced from the jar of sauce to her. “I could.”
“But you’re not going to?” Him making her a meal was super sweet, and she appreciated it, but she couldn’t just let anyone other than her mother walk all over her into her apartment without even so much as asking first.
“But you might say no,” he said, his eyebrows drawing together.
She nodded. “That’s definitely a risk.”
“Yeah.” He shook his head. “I’m going to do this my way instead.”
Was he always this adorably smug like that, or was she simply wicked tired?
The cupboard doors opened and closed, and he sang one of the Dimefront songs under his breath while he searched out whatever he needed. Probably a pan, but she was too invested in her memorization and staying awake to glance up.
Still, a little nagging tugged at her belly, because she owed him, and he was being kind.
“Thank you,” she said, looking up. “Really, thank you.”
“For ensuring you continue to breathe or fixing your supper?” he asked offhandedly.
That got her attention. She said softly, “Both?”
“Fair enough.” He continued to move around the kitchen like it wasn’t a big deal and, dammit all, she really liked the guy. “And you’re welcome,” he added.
She made it through the pages and used a plethora of mnemonic devices she’d cultivated over the years, so the lines would stay put for at least another day. Maybe longer, depending on how many hours of sleep she got that night.
Who knew how long she’d been working when she finally came to the last line? Time was funny with memorization. She glanced up from the pages and Knox stood by the stove, fiddling with his phone.
“Hungry yet?” he asked, still looking at his screen. Apparently, he had some kind of sixth sense to know she’d glanced his way.
