Page 3 of Worth the Want
Her eyes travel up and down my body. She takes her time looking at my shoulders, down to the unbuttoned collar of my dress shirt where my chest hair is peeking out to the rolled-up sleeves at my forearms. Her eyes flick back to mine, her cheeks flushing with her grin. I’ve been checked out before, I’m not uncomfortable with my body—but having her eyes roam overme like she can remove my clothing with her mind is making my neck hot. Iwanther to keep looking at me.
She clears her throat. “Well,” she starts, turning to face me on her stool. “I’m afraid my inspection isn’t all that thorough, and I don’t know if I can pinpoint it for you, but I’m not sure you can help it, Knox. You just…stand out.” She’s giving me a shy smile that my fingers itch to reach out and trace the curve of.
“And what could I do to help you be more thorough?” I ask her before I can overthink it.Flirting—if that’s what we’re doing here—isn’t something I’m well-versed in.
Her eyes spark at the question. “Hmm…” She taps her chin thoughtfully, playfully, before answering. “I can think of a few things—none of them appropriate for a hole in the wall bar, unfortunately.” My mind works overtime to come up with other venues—my bed being number one on the list.I stop the thought in its tracks.
Tiny isn’t going to ask me to take her to bed tonight, she’s here after tracking down her sister, and she’s not going to leave her now. Not wanting this to be the only chance I have with her, I say the only thing I can think of in the moment. “What about a pizza parlor? Tomorrow?”Smooth, Knox. I don’t ask women out in the city. I don’t ask women out, period. The last time I was on a date was in college, but there’s something about her. She looks at me in a way that leaves me wanting. I want to hear all her thoughts and watch her hands dance around in the air while she tells me them.
The look on her face is hard to read. I see the shock; she wasn’t expecting a date—but she also looks curious? Tempted even? That makes two of us. She turns away from me abruptly.Okay, I guess there’s my answer.This is one of the reasons I don’t make a habit of approaching women.
I can’t read the room. Here I thought she was intrigued.Interestedeven. Now her back is to me, and I’m disappointed to say the least. I reach for the waters that have been sitting next to me, untouched, but the feel of her hand on my arm again stops me. She’s holding her phone out to me, biting her lip.
“Put your number in,” she orders. My lips twitch, and I do as she says, feeling more relieved than I want to admit.
“Can I have yours?” I ask her, but she shakes her head.
“No. Tell me where this pizza place is, and when I should be there.” Once again, I do as she says as she types something into her phone before her sister gets back to us. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her smile mirrors my own. I don’t remember the last time I felt like this—if I ever have.
This compelling attraction and need to see someone again.
“I’ll see you then. I’m looking forward to a more thorough evaluation.”
“Looking forward to giving it,” she quips.
Content for now with the promise of seeing her again, I grab the waters before heading back to my friends, already anticipating the pushback over me cutting them off.
Later that night, after I get everyone home safe, I feel my phone go off in my pocket as I clear the door to the lobby of my apartment building. Smiling, because I assume I know who it is.I guess Tiny couldn’t wait to talk to me either.But when I pull my phone out, it's a contact already in my phone. A name I haven’t given much thought to flashes across the screen. Fingers hovering, I contemplate answering.
After six months of no contact, I had assumed she wouldn’t need closure. It was one night—one night I don’t evenremember that well, if I’m being honest. Scrubbing a hand down my face, waiting for the elevator doors to open, and desperate to get to bed, I hold my still-vibrating phone. Why would she be calling me now? I thought we had an understanding after our last conversation.
The elevator dings as I look at my phone again. Sighing, I step between the open doors and tap the icon to answer.
“Emily?”
“Hey, Knox. I-I need to talk to you.”
Papers that were neatly stacked on my desk just this morning are now strewn across the floor and chair in the corner of my home office. I’m tying my tie with my phone tucked between my shoulder and my ear while also making sure all crucial documents make it into my briefcase. Somewhere between making Hazel breakfast and going to pack her day bag, my sweet,almost-three-year-old decided to throw the curated files I needed for my case this morning—everywhere.
That paired with the phone conversation I’m having is making my jaw sore from how tight I’m clenching it.
“No,” I say out loud, tapping the speaker on my phone, and setting it down to adjust the loop around my neck under my collar.
“Pleeease,” the small voice whines.
I rub at my temple. “Like I told Florence earlier—no.”
“Knox. There’s nowhere else I can think to put her, andit won’t be forever! Just until we can get the plumbing fixed,” my baby brother’s fiancée rambles from the far side of my desk where I have my phone sitting. Win’s been like a sister to me since I’ve known her, which means she annoys me just as much as Florence.
“You don’t even know her, Winnie, and you’re asking me to let her stay at my house?” I ask incredulously, hoping she sees the problem.
“It’s not like she would actually be atyourhouse, Knox. Just down the road.”Only a half mile.“Out of the way. And I kind of know her! I like her. She was great on the phone. You probably won’t even notice she’s there,” she tells me. I huff, not believing that for a second. “Come on. Just a small favor for your soon-to-be-sister.” I can almost hear the fluttering lashes on the other end.
“You know I like my privacy, Win. I don’t want someone coming in and out all the time, and I have Hazel to think about.” The line goes quiet. “Win? Are you still there?” I ask.
“I’m here. Sorry, I’m just thinking…I’ll try and come up with something. I’m sure everything will work out.” She throws every ounce of guilt trip she can muster at me.
I sigh—in annoyanceand defeat—tipping my head back. “It’s not ready for someone to live there,” I relent, and squealing fills the room.
