Page 49 of Worth the Want
“Yeah, I’m getting the vibe he’s more of a homebody.”
“You’re getting vibes from Knox?” she asks curiously.
“I mean…not a lot or anything. I’ve had dinner at his house afew times, and last night, it just seemed like he was more relaxed there,” I comment.
Her head whips to me. “You had dinner together?” I’m not sure if Knox wants that information out or that I have dinner at his house more often than my own.
“It’s really not that big a deal. I was walking by and Hazel waved me over. I was talking with her and picking flowers; I think Knox felt like it would be rude if he didn’t ask me in. Then he found out that I can’t cook—it’s probably more of a pity thing,” I try to explain, but not liking the sound of the words I’m saying.Is it a pity thing? It doesn’t feel that way.
“I know you’re just getting to know Knox, but I feel the need to tell you that man doesn’t mind being rude. In fact, the Holloways don’t do anything they don’t want to,” she muses.
I laugh at that. “I also got that vibe from him. It was a bit of a mixed-vibe bag.”
She grins at me. “That sounds about right. Don’t get me wrong. I love Knox. He’s always been like a brother to me. He’s protective and kind, and he’s the best dad to Hazel. He just likes his privacy and isn’t a big fan of socializing.” Winnie starts putting things into the oven, then walks to the fridge to gather items for the cookies she’s making for the Spring Fling Picnic event happening this weekend.
Nothing she told me about Knox surprises me, but I would be lying to myself if I didn’t kind of hope he would be there. I would love to see him in a different setting, out at a bar with friends. I can’t stop the giggle that escapes me at the image of Knox singing karaoke. Winnie looks at me.
“Sorry, just had a funny thought. Thanks for inviting me out tomorrow and for welcoming me into the friend group. First rounds on me.”
“Oh, you’re gonna be the favorite if you keep that up.” She snickers.
“Excellent, that’s all part of my plan,” I say mysteriously. Winnie laughs so loudly that I almost drop the bowl I’m carrying to the sink. I love it. Her laugh is so infectious that I start laughing along with her. We carry on for so long that my stomach starts hurting. Winnie puts her hand on my shoulder, and the action knocks a memory loose. One I can usually keep contained.
Han and I on the front steps of our apartment building. Her shoving me in the shoulder, causing me to slip down a step. We had been out day-drinking at a baseball game in the city, and I lost my keys. Imissher.
Heat behind my eyes pulls me from the memory, and I swipe at them, keeping my smile in place. I put the bowl in the sink, running some water in it before splashing a little on my face to get myself together.
“So, do you need my help back here today, or should I head out front?” I ask.
“Out front for a while, please. I’m going to try and get these cookies and croissant dough made up for the weekend. Then do you want to come back here when Anna gets here? I’m going to show you how to make some blueberry muffins today if you’re up for it.”
“I am so up for it! My family’s never going to believe that I can bake something.”
“Not justsomething. Something delicious,” she says seriously. I grin at her before walking back out front to open the door for the day and get the coffee ready.
A few hours later, I’ve done all the weekly cleaning up front, made a list for the grocery store, and learned how to makeblueberry muffins. Winnie said the recipe is interchangeable with most fruits, but I have to be careful with any that could be considered “wet.” Tomorrow I’m going to learn how to bake a chocolate croissant, and I’m scared to have that information because I’m not sure there will be a day when I don’t eat one if I know how to make them myself.
I walk into the grocery store, list in hand this time, and grab a cart from the front. I don’t know how to cook many things, so my list is basic, but I’m proud of it. Growing up in the city, we ate a lot of takeout, and even when my mother did cook, Han and I never asked her how to make anything. That being said, I follow a lot of online chefs who make meals that are at a level I think I can manage, so my menu for the next week is a lot of pasta. I’m making spaghetti, ziti, chicken alfredo, and an attempt at mushroom ravioli. Just in case, though, I have frozen pizza, Uncrustables, and popcorn as a backup.
I’m having trouble steering my cart with all the people packed in here. The whole town is a flurry of activity, and I’m assuming it has something to do with the spring event this weekend. There was always something going on in Atlanta, but for the most part, it was a sports event that brought people in or the odd movie was being filmed. My dad was usually involved if it was the latter.
I sigh, wistfully thinking about my parents. I do miss them. None of this is their fault.It’s mine.
I pick up the varying pastas needed for the internet meals and then walk to the produce section—avoiding the zucchini entirely—and grab the rest of my groceries. All I need now is some cheese. I’m almost to the dairy when I see Knox. He’s standing right in front of all the cheese and yogurt, whichwouldn’t be a big deal except he’s talking to someone. Not just someone though. A woman. A gorgeous woman.
She looks to be around my age. Long, blonde hair and bright, blue eyes. She’s much taller than me, maybe six or seven inches at least. Her legs go all the way up to my chest, and now she’s laughing, and it’s delicate like bells tinkling in the wind. I don’t like the feeling snaking inside me right now, causing my face to heat and my mind to race.And I’m staring.I’m staring at her so hard that it looks like I’m trying to use my pyrokinesis to set her aflame.
I avert my eyes and realize that Knox and I have nothing going on. A few dinners at his house, some mild flirting, and I’m what? Ready to call him my boyfriend? Fuck, Iamready to call him my boyfriend. I’m contemplating whether I actually need the cheese or if I should just try my hand at making my own when the woman speaks—to me.
“Hi, are we in your way?” she asks, and it’s not passive-aggressive—it’s sweet and genuine.How annoying.
“Uh-I’m...I just need some cheese,” I blurt.
She smiles at me. “I’m so sorry. I would never stand between a woman and her cheese,” she jokes. Cool, so she's beautifulandfunny.
“No, you aren’t—” I cut myself off, trying to string together a full sentence in my head before letting anything else come out of my mouth. “Excuse me. I’ll just grab this and be out of your way.” I reach for a block of cheddar, two wedges of smoked gouda, bleu cheese crumbles, and a bag of shredded mozzarella.Okay, so I needed a lot of cheese.I’m a little embarrassed. I need to get out of here.
“That’s a lot of groceries for someone who doesn’t cook,” a deep voice drawls from my side.
