Page 21 of The Only Thing That's Real

I’ve adjusted the carafes of ice water, coffee, and juice sitting on the coffee table five times now, needing to keep myself busy while I wait for the auburn-haired beauty to arrive. I’m about to rearrange the glasses next to the beverages again when there’s a knock at the door.

Glancing at my watch, I smile because she’s eight minutes early. Growing up, Mom and Dad taught us that if you aren’t five minutes early, you’re late. My parents gave me more sage advice than any kid could ever remember, but their words about being on time stuck. Not sure why, but it did.

Looks like Ryan was raised the same way. My kind of girl.

“She is not your kind of girl,” I mutter under my breath before reaching for the door.

Pulling it open, my heart stutters, the vision in front of me leaving me speechless.

With no one and nothing around to distract me, I give her my full attention. It’s like seeing her in HD and she’s flawless. Her goddamn eyes are a soothing deep chocolate that instantly warms my icy demeanor. I’d love to examine everyfreckle dancing over her high cheekbones and perfect nose, but she interrupts my perusal.

“Are you going to let me in, or did you change your mind?”

Real subtle, McKinnon. You’re staring at the woman.

“Nope, come on in.”

Shoving my embarrassment down deep, because fuck me, if I don’t feel my face heating, I step out of her way.

When was the last time I blushed? Freshman year of high school? And this woman has brought it on twice now.

She floats past me, the smell of vanilla following her, as does the fabric of her long black maxi dress. I gently click the door closed, counting to three before turning around to face her.

A cropped cream sweater covers her shoulders, and the girl is rockin’ Birkenstocks and a headful of waves. If her make-up free face and casual attire are supposed to give off the impression she didn’t make an effort for our meeting, she’s more than missed her mark, because she has never looked more beautiful.

And I have never been more screwed.

“So, where do you want me?”

You don’t want to know, darlin.

Like the gentleman I am, I keep my desires to myself. “I figure over here will work.” I guide her to the plush couch next to the coffee table. “Do you want something to drink? I have water, coffee, or juice?”

“I’m good with water, thanks. Do you mind if I record this?” she asks, holding her phone up.

“Nope.” Shaking on the inside, it’s a miracle I keep myhand steady as I fill her glass. I take a seat in one of the two matching chairs on the other side of the table.

She’s got me off my game.

As soon as my ass hits the leather chair she gets to work, filling me in on the things she’d like to cover over the coming weeks. I’m impressed with the depth of research she’s done. This won’t be a fluff piece. She knows her Hollow Knocks history. Sure, she’s gleaned some of it from the hours spent with the rest of the Knocks family these last few weeks, but something tells me that’s not it. She’s put in the work. It’s rare for journalists to want more than your typical puff piece or scandalous expose.

Sipping her water, she looks over her notes. I take the break in her barrage of questions to tell her how impressed I am with the thoughtful approach she’s taking for the article.

Tilting her head, she squints her eyes, looking at me as though she isn’t sure if it’s a dig or if I really mean it. I suppose that’s to be expected with the way things have been between us. Her odd reaction lasts only a moment before she begins again.

“Did you always know you wanted to leave Goose Hollow or was it just once the music started taking off?”

“I always knew.”

That’s a lie. It never crossed my mind until that fateful day my senior year of high school. After that day, everything about my hometown changed. I knew I could never stay. I keep this to myself, like I have for the last two decades.

“Do you still feel that way? You think you’ll ever want to go back to small town life?”

I think about Goose Hollow every day. I’ve been back home more in the last year and a half than usual. First whenDad passed and then for the holidays and Callen and Charlie’s wedding. One of the hardest times in my life and then one of the happiest watching my brother marry my friend and the band’s lawyer of many years. I miss the ranch and the simple life. But there’s more to it than that.

“Someday.”

“What do you miss most?”

---