But he was not only good at taking teasing, he was good at dishing it out.
Our banter was plentiful, playful and fun as fuck.
God.
In the end, though, when we were air frying some chicken breasts, he told me his house was about getting on the property ladder and that unit was eventually going to be a good rental or a decent Airbnb.
Another thing to fall in love with, he was forward-thinking.
Due to the fact my space was smack dab in the middle of Angels Ground Zero, nearly the entirety of our secret liaison was conducted at his place, in his kitchen, his living room…his bed.
So I was very familiar with it.
I just hoped they hadn’t changed the gate code.
They hadn’t.
I parked in the short drive in front of his closed garage door, got out and refused to think about the fact his bedroom was on the second floor, along with refusing to hope that someone figured out a way to make him comfortable on the ground floor until he could navigate stairs.
(FYI: I failed at refusing to think about these things, and instead worried that no one took care of him.)
I laid on the doorbell and didn’t lay off until the door swung open and I was face-to-face with an irate Knox, who had one arm in a sling and a crutch under the other one.
(Bad luck for him, he was shot in the right shoulder and the left thigh.)
I knew he was irate not only because every gorgeous feature on his insanely gorgeous face screamed it.
But also because he bit out, “Christ almighty, Luna. What the fuck?”
“Step back or I’ll bowl you over,” I warned.
“Woman, whatever this is, I don’t have the energy for it,” he shot back.
“Then it’s your lucky day because I only have about an hour to verbally kick your ass before I have to go over to Dream’s to babysit, so step aside so I can come in.”
He didn’t step aside.
I thinned my eyes at him. “Your alternative is for me to scream at you like a fishwife on your front stoop, and trust me, you’ll hear it even if you shut the door in my face. So will all your neighbors.”
He scowled at me a very long moment before, with good leg and crutch, he awkwardly moved back.
I stormed in.
He shut the door and equally awkwardly turned to face me.
I refused to allow that to make my heart bleed.
(FYI: I failed at that too.)
I was about ready to launch in, but Knox beat me to it.
“Thanks for the flowers.”
My head ticked in confusion. “What?”
“And your bedside vigil.”
Was he…?
