By the time I hit the code on the door, she’d stopped fighting me and hung upside down with her arms crossed in what I could only assume was a pout.
I hated to take my hands off her. I wished there was a way to get through this without letting her go. But I wasn’t a great conversationalist under normal circumstances, and when I had an aching dick, I was even worse.
I grabbed her by the hips and let her slide down my body until her toes hit the floor. For a moment, we stood there, pressed against each other like we were one. And for just a second, as she looked into my eyes with her palms pressed flat on my chest, everything felt right.
Then she was pushing away from me and stepping back.
“What the hell do you want from me, Knox? You said you didn’t want to be together. We’re not together. I’m not following you around, begging for another chance. I respected your wishes.”
I was worried she’d get the wrong answer if she looked below my belt, so I steered her to the chair behind my desk.
“Sit.”
She glared at me for a full thirty seconds with her arms c
rossed before giving in. “Fine,” she said, flopping down in my chair. But the distance didn’t make me feel better. I was starting to realize the only thing that did was being close to her.
“You keep saying you want one thing and then acting like you want something completely different,” she said.
“I know.”
That shut her up.
I needed to move, so I paced in front of the desk, needing to keep something between us.
“There’s something you don’t know.”
Her fingers drummed on her arms. “You gonna enlighten me anytime soon, or do I have to kiss all those tips out there good-bye?”
I shoved my hands through my hair, scraped one down over my beard. I felt sweaty and twitchy. “Don’t rush me, okay?”
“I am not going to miss working for you,” she said.
“Fuck. Naomi. Just give me a second. I don’t talk about this shit to anyone. Okay?”
“Why start now?” She stood up.
“You met my father.” I blurted out the words.
Slowly, she sank back into the chair.
I started pacing again. “At the shelter,” I said.
“Oh my God. Duke,” she said. The realization hit her. “You cut his hair. You introduced us.”
I hadn’t introduced them. Naomi had introduced herself.
“When my mom died, he didn’t deal. He started drinking. Stopped going to work. Got busted for a DUI. That’s when Liza and Pop took us in. They were grieving too. For them, being around me and Nash wasn’t some painful reminder of what they lost. But for my father… He couldn’t even look at us. The drinking continued here. Right here at the bar before it was Honky Tonk.”
Maybe that’s why I bought it. Why I’d felt compelled to turn it into something better.
“When the alcohol stopped numbing him, he went looking for something harder.”
So many memories I’d thought I’d buried came rushing back.
Dad with bloodshot eyes, scratches and scabs all on his arms. Bruises and cuts he didn’t remember on his face.
Dad curled on the floor of the kitchen, screaming about bugs.