ecides I’m not good enough for her?”
She wielded a lip gloss at me.
“This is what it’s like living in my brain.”
“It’s fucking exhausting.”
“It is. And the one time I do something that’s purely selfish and just for me, it blows up in my face.”
“What did you do for you?” I asked.
“I had a one-night stand with a grumpy, tattooed barber.”
THIRTY
BREAKFAST OF SHAME
Naomi
“You don’t have to come along, you know,” I pointed out. “You didn’t get much sleep in the last forty-eight hours.”
“Neither did you,” Knox said, making a show of locking up the cabin before we left. I knew he was making a point.
I didn’t like people who made points. At least not before I’d had my coffee.
We made the short walk to Liza’s in silence. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and my mind was spinning like a dryer with a lopsided load.
We’d slept together. As in fell asleep in the same bed without having sex together. Not only that, but I’d woken up with Knox “Viking” Morgan spooning me.
I didn’t know much about no strings. Hell, I had so many strings attached to so many things, I’d been tied up in knots for most of my adult life. But even I knew that sharing a bed and cuddling was way too intimate for what we’d both agreed to.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. Waking up with Knox’s hard—and I do mean hard—body at my back, his arm draped heavily over my waist was one of the best ways in the world to wake up.
But it wasn’t part of the agreement. There was a reason for rules. Rules would keep me from falling for the grumpy, cuddly Viking.
I chewed on my lower lip.
Men got tired and didn’t want to walk women home or let women walk home alone only to be eaten by wildlife. The man had gone through a traumatic twenty-four hours. He probably wasn’t making the most rational decisions, I decided. Maybe Knox was just a restless sleeper. Maybe he spooned his dog in bed every night.
Of course, that didn’t explain why he’d volunteered to run next door and grab a bunch of my stuff while I showered. Why he’d put actual thought into an outfit for me. I glanced down at the high-waisted green and white shorts, the cute lacy top. He’d even grabbed underwear for me. Sure, it was a thong and didn’t match my bra. But still.
“’Bout done thinking everything to death?”
I shook myself from my reverie to find Knox shooting me one of those almost smiles.
“I was just running through my to do list,” I fibbed haughtily.
“Sure you were. Can we go in now?”
I realized we were standing in front of Liza’s house. The smell of Stef’s World Famous Maple Bacon wafted through the screen door.
There was a single woof followed by a chorus of barks as four dogs barreled through the door and off the porch.
Waylon was last, ears flapping behind him, tongue lolling obscenely from his mouth.
“Hey, bud,” Knox said, dropping to his knees to greet his dog and the other three as they jumped and yapped their enthusiasm.
I bent down and exchanged more dignified greetings with the pack before straightening.