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“Maybe it should. Maybe that’s why you’re calling me. For reassurance.”
“Emmy,” I hissed, hating how right she was. “Will you please just help me with my outfit?”
“I can only help you if you’re honest about your goals. Are you trying to look professional or sexy?”
I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth then said, “Maybe a little of both.”
“Yas, girl!” she squealed. And then she turned serious, telling me exactly what to wear and how to style my hair. Before hanging up, she said, “Ooh. I’m so excited!”
Just as I said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Havefun,” Emmy said before we ended the call. “Live a little for once in your life. Just don’t fuck up our free tickets to the Leatherbacks.”
“Fine,” I huffed, but I was laughing. “I’ll do my best.”
We’d settled on a lavender-colored dress that was soft and gauzy. It was dressy but comfortable. It was relatively modest in front—just a hint of cleavage. But it dipped low in the back, revealing a huge expanse of skin. I took my time curling my hair and braiding part of it so it would rest over one shoulder.
When I headed downstairs, Knox was already waiting. He stood with his back to me, his attention on the sunset. His hands were in his pockets, and I tracked his form from his shoulders to his tapered waist to his powerful legs.
“Hey,” I said, joining him. Looking out at the sky from the same vantage point.
“Hey.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Come. Sit,” he said, pulling out a chair for me. He placed his hand on my back, lingering a moment before sliding down my bare skin. “You look beautiful.”
I admired the flowers—pink peonies, of course—and the chilled wine as I tried to calm my nerves from his words and his touch. Knox and I always found small ways to touch each other, but this felt…different.
What am I doing?
“Thank you,” I said, taking a seat. Feeling his presence, the connection between us, even as he stood behind me, just out of reach.
“My pleasure,” he said, joining me. “I would’ve prepared dinner, but I thought we could both use the night off.”
The back door opened, and a waiter stepped out, a plate of salad in each hand. He served us without a word, and then he was gone.
“Wow,” I said. “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful. I suppose that means you finally decided on a chef.”
He nodded. “Yes. You were right. Javier was the best choice.”
I preened, pleased he’d accepted my advice yet again. That he continually sought it out, wanting my opinion.
Our conversation turned to other matters—the team, soccer, everything. Well, almost everything. Neither of us mentioned Jude.
When the salad plate was cleared and the entrée arrived, Knox turned to the waiter. “Thank you. That will be all.”
The man nodded and took his leave. I assumed he’d let the other staff know that they were dismissed for the night. Leaving me completely alone with Knox.
He lifted his wineglass, and I joined him for a toast. “Thank you for taking such good care of the house. And me.”
“Absolutely,” I said, feeling both gratified and sad as I sipped the wine. This was clearly goodbye.
“Have you enjoyed working with me?” he asked.
I was surprised not only by his question but by the way in which he’d phrased it. Even though I might have been here to do a job, he always made it seem as if we were equals. He’d never treated me as anything but.
“Very much,” I said.
His eyes lingered on my lips, hanging on my every word. “Would you want to continue working with me?”
I leaned back in my chair and laughed as I ran a hand through my hair. “Knox, you obviously don’t need a house sitter. You haven’t for a while.”
