Page 23 of Nothing Less than Magic
“Yeah,” I say. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? People here seem to talk.”
“You can say that again. Between Sadie and my sister, they don’t need a newspaper in this town. Your secret is safe with me.”
“It’s not a secret, it’s just that . . . Well, I’ll just say it: it’s not terribly great for my professional reputation.”
Knox leans across the table and winks. “Gotcha.”
“What? You think I’m being duplicitous?”
“No. If people are stupid enough to dish out good money to hear you tell them how to live their lives, they deserve to have the wool pulled over their eyes.”
“For the record, I don’t tell people how to live their lives. But you’re entitled to your opinion.” There’s no sense arguing with him. As long as he doesn’t blab my dirty laundry all over Ghost, we’re good.
“Gee, thanks for letting me have my own opinion.” He gets up and disappears inside the pantry, only to return with a package of cookies, which he slides across the table at me. “I owe you.”
They’re the same brand of vanilla wafers he took from my house. “You can keep them. They look better on you than they do on me.”
He gives me a once-over and grins. “They look fine on you.”
“You’re a real charmer, you know that?”
“Said no one. Ever.”
“I don’t know, Knox, you have your moments. I better get going.” I unloop my purse strap from the back of my chair and rise, debating on whether to accept the cookies or not. They are my favorite. “Okay, I’m taking these.”
The corner of his mouth hitches up, and I have to admit he’s undeniably attractive.
“I’ll walk you out,” he says, and leads the way to my car, Bailey tagging along beside him.
“I hope it was okay that I barged in on you like this.”
“It’s fine.” He opens my door, a playful grin playing on his lips. “Try not to make it a habit, though.”
I get behind the wheel. “Knox, you really could use a filter,” I say, then drive away.
Chapter 7
When I get home, there’s a Mercedes SUV in my driveway that I don’t recognize. Austin and I were never into showy cars. Even though our combined salaries put us in a high-income bracket, we were always practical with our money, stashing it away for that proverbial rainy day.
I go in search of the vehicle’s owner and find Lolly sitting on my back porch. She looks like a vintage Hollywood postcard with her big white sunglasses and Hermès scarf tied around her head, reminding me of Grace Kelly.
“You’re here!” If it wasn’t her in the flesh, I wouldn’t believe my eyes.
“I’m here.” She offers a weak smile.
“Where are the kids?”
“With their father.” Lolly turns to the cabin. “So this is it, huh?” Her tone and expression are flat. She’s clearly unimpressed.
“Did you walk down to the lake?”
She leans back in the lounge chair and lifts one foot in the air, showing off a designer shoe with a four-inch heel.
“I have some hiking boots you can borrow.”
She scowls in distaste. “It’s cold.”
“Well, come inside. I’ll crank up the heat and make a fire.”
