Because I heard this fuck bet his friend a hundred bucks that he’d fuck her before midnight. And given he wasn’t taking no for an answer, I decided to be the no.
I should be grateful Knox was there at all.
Suddenly, as if I conjured him, Knox turns the corner into my aisle. He’s carrying a basket that’s half-filled with lemons. Too many for one person to use.
For a second, my stomach does that silly drop at the sight of him. He’s changed from earlier. He’s wearing jeans that hug his ass perfectly, with a pale blue denim shirt beneath his cut. The sleeves are rolled up and…
I think about the way he held me in the parking lot. Quite literally, he kept me at arm’s length, offering no comfort.
But he offered you safety.
Bare. Minimum.
I drop my head and turn to hurry up the aisle.
“Maren. Wait.”
Shit.
Instead of acknowledging that I heard him, I keep walking. But a second later, I hear his boots hitting the tiled floor at a quick pace, and then a hand touches my shoulder.
“Maren. Hey.”
I stop beside the cans of fruit and turn slowly, but his hand remains on me. “What?”
He looks at me like he did while we were watching TV in the emergency apartment. When it felt intimate and special. Like there really was something between us. And his face looks so much more handsome than it did in the lot, where it had a mean edge and air of indifference.
“I was thinking of stopping by later to catch you.”
“Why?”
“So I could apologize.” But as he says the word, he looks nervously up and down the currently empty aisle.
I shrug his hand off my shoulder. “What exactly are you apologizing for?”
He shrugs boyishly. “All of it.”
I huff at that response. “Not accepted.” I turn and grab a can of peaches off the shelf, even though I know they’re packed with syrup and that fresh peaches are just about in season.
“Maren,” he says, as if I’m being unreasonable.
“You made your point; you don’t care about me. Shouldn’t be talking to me here either, which is why you keep looking up and down the aisle so often it’s like you’re watching tennis.”
His brow draws together. “That’s not what happened.”
“Oh, really. Because from where I was standing, it looked an awful lot like you decided it was more important to save face with your biker friends than it was to treat me like a human being who, as you pointed out, was on the verge of being assaulted.”
Tears threaten, stinging the bridge of my nose, and I furiously wipe the single one that escapes away.
His voice lowers, but I see the sympathy he isn’t vocally expressing, in his eyes. “Maren.”
“You keep saying my name like it matters, Knox. Your actions suggest otherwise. But, please, explain it to me like I’m five.”
He exhales slowly. “You agreed to keep this private.”
“I did.”
“And we were in front of my club.”
