Page 31 of Pick Me
None of which was in any way helpful when I was trying to stay away from him.
Chapter Five
Gage
“Oh, thank fuck!” I threw myself down on one of the pristine white beds in the two-room hotel suite, arms and legs spread out like a very tired snow angel. “That. Was. Awesome. I’m exhausted.”
Knox tossed his keys on the little desk in the living room area with a clatter before appearing in the doorway. “It’s eight o’clock.”
“So?”
“So, aren’t teenagers like yourself supposed to be night owls?”
I lifted my head so he could see me roll my eyes before flopping back down on the bed. Knox had decided we were on friendly-chatty terms now, and that was awesome. I wasn’t complaining. Sure, it was a huge step down from what I would rather be doing with him—which would have involved us being a lot more friendly and a lot less chatty—but it was light-years better than the Cold War we’d been engaged in before.
And yet, for some reason, the man had insisted on reminding me ten times an hour all day long that I wasso very youngin a voice that made it sound like an insult. I was officially over it.
“Not when we’ve woken up at the literal crack of dawn, summoned all our bravery to confront two cows—or, like, a cow and a half—in their natural milieu, put up with some middle-aged dude’s incredible ignorance on important life topics as determined by BuzzFeed, single-handedly hunted and gathered a crap ton of tensiometers, seen the birthplace of the American Revolution, eaten our own weight in cannoli, and strolled all the way from Boston Common to Chinatown because that same dude didn’t remember where he was going. I might sparkle like a unicorn, but I do occasionally get tired, Knox.”
I rubbed a hand idly up and down my stomach over my T-shirt—a retro Godzilla one Fenn had gotten me two Christmases before that was soft from a billion washings. The guy behind the counter at the cannoli place had complimented me on it and then schooled me on all things Godzilla while a line had formed behind me, which I’d found hilarious. It was fun seeing people geek out over something.
“In retrospect, that fourth cannoli on an otherwise empty stomach probably wasn’t a great idea.” I groaned. “Getting older sucks. When a man finally has the freedom to eat all the cannoli he wants, it’s a travesty of justice if his stomach refuses to get on board.”
Knox leaned against the doorframe. “Welcome to adulthood,” he said wryly. “Where you learn the benefits of self-restraint or pay the consequences.”
His voice was extra deep for some reason, so I lifted my head again to see him better. He seemed relaxed enough, with his slouchy posture, but his eyes followed my hand as I made a slow circle from my waistband to my breastbone, almost as if he…
I swallowed hard, acutely aware of the two-inch gap where my shirt had ridden up because I felt Knox’s stare linger there. Then his green gaze lifted to mine, and the air in the room went electric in an instant, alive with chaotic possibility like a storm on the horizon.
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
Despite the half second of maybe-attraction I’d gotten from him the day I’d arrived at the orchard, I had not foreseen this. I’d caught zero sexual energy from him in the last two weeks, and I had for damn sure been looking.
I didn’t know what had changed on his end to get us here. But since not a damn thing had changed for me, I knew exactly where I wanted us to go.
“They were really good cannoli,” I whispered, trying to sound offhanded and probably failing. “Worth it.”
I bit my lip and let my pinkie finger catch on the hem of my shirt as my hand continued circling, widening the gap.
Knox glanced down and blinked once, and when his eyes came back to mine, they were molten hot and shimmery—exactly as they’d been that first day, I realized triumphantly. Everything that could be between us—all the laughter and passion and the gorgeous relief—passed through my brain in a single heartbeat, and then Knox closed his eyes and turned away, shutting it all down.
“I’m going out,” he said, heading over to the second bed, which he’d claimed after we’d checked in earlier.
“Out,” I repeated stupidly. “Out?”
“While you were busy flirting with Shane, I texted a friend and told him I was in town.”
“Shane.” I frowned hard, trying to remember flirting with anyone. “Shane?”
“Cannoli guy.” Knox extracted a button-down shirt—one from his extensive collection—from the bag and put it on the bed next to a fresh pair of jeans.
“That wasn’t flirting! God. That was just a guy being enthusiastic over his hobby.”
He snorted without turning around. “You’re delusional.”
“Me?” I scoffed. “Me?” I was not the one of us who wanted someone and was pretending I didn’t.
