Things We Never Got Over (Knockemout Book 1)

A soft snore startled me from my incredibly steamy dream about Knox Morgan. When I heard the snore again, felt the warm, hard body against me, my eyelids flew open cartoon shade-style.

This wasn’t a dream.

I’d accidentally had sex with my grumpy boss, infuriating neighbor, and flagrant backyard pee-er.

I waited for the stampede of regrets to charge through my brain like bison on a dusty prairie. But it seemed my body was too sated to allow for that.

Knox had banged my brain and body into submission.

Carefully so as not to disturb my snoring bed partner, I rolled to face him.

He was naked, the sheet tangled up in his legs, leaving most of his spectacular body on display. This was the first time I’d had the opportunity to study him up close without him knowing.

That thick, dark, dirty blond hair was mussed from my hands. There was a small scar between his eyebrows and another one, longer, more jagged, near his hairline. His lashes were long enough to make me jealous. His lips, usually closed in that firm, disapproving line, were parted slightly.

He slept on his back, one tattooed arm under his head, the other around me. I hadn’t pegged him for a cuddler. No one in their right mind would. But the hold he had on me said differently. His chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths. I studied his stomach muscles with fascination. Mine were sore from the unexpected ab workout orgasms delivered. His looked like they could withstand anything, tapering down to a taut V that disappeared beneath the sheet.

He looked so peaceful that even the perpetual line of annoyance between his eyebrows had smoothed.

I couldn’t believe Knox Morgan was naked in my bed.

Oh, God.

Knox Morgan was naked.

In my bed.

And the sneaky son of a bitch had given me two of the most intense orgasms known to humankind. How in the hell was I supposed to look him in the eye now and not send my vagina into involuntary spasms?

Ah, there it was. My old friend, abject panic.

What was I doing in bed with a man I knew better than to sleep with mere weeks after running away from my own wedding?

I needed to get out of this bed because if Knox woke up and gave me a sleepy-eyed stare, I’d throw caution to the wind and hop right back on that cock of his without another thought.

It took a few tries, but I managed to extricate myself from his surprisingly snuggly grip. Not wanting to wake him by rummaging through drawers, I grabbed the nightgown I’d set out for tonight and wiggled into it before tiptoeing out of the room.

“One-time thing,” I chanted to myself as I made my way down the stairs.

It happened. It was over. Time to move on.

I tripped over a discarded boot on my way into the kitchen. “Ow! Damn it,” I hissed.

Waylon lifted his head from the couch, let out a yawn, and stretched luxuriously.

“Hi,” I said, feeling self-conscious that the dog might be judging me for sleeping with his human. But if the basset hound was feeling judgmental, it didn’t last because he rolled over and promptly went back to sleep.

I moved Knox’s boots away from the foot of the stairs.

We’d left a trail of clothing on the first floor, something else I’d never done.

I’d pick it all up and fold it just as soon as I had a hit of coffee.

The late night, the worry over Nash, and Waylay’s first day, not to mention the mind-altering orgasms, had all rendered me nearly comatose.

I quickly started a pot of coffee, then rested my forehead on the counter while I waited for it to brew.

I thought about Waylay, trudging onto the big yellow school bus in her purple dress and pink sneakers. Her new backpack full of supplies and snacks.

She hadn’t been excited for her first day of sixth grade. I could only imagine how awful last year, her first in Knockemout, had been. Hopefully, between Nina, Chloe, and a new teacher, Waylay would get the second chance she so deserved. And if that didn’t do the trick, I would find another solution. Waylay was a smart, funny, sweet kid, and I wouldn’t let the world ignore that.

The coffee maker beeped its siren song of a finished pot. My fingers had just closed around the handle of the coffee carafe when there was a peppy knock at the front door.

Waylon’s head popped back up from the couch.

Hastily, I poured a mug and took a scalding swallow before throwing open the door.

I choked on the mouthful of caffeine when I found my parents standing on the porch.

“There’s our girl!” My mother, looking tan and happy, opened her arms.

At 61, Amanda Witt still dressed to accentuate the curves that had caught my father’s eye in college. She took pride in coloring her hair the same auburn it had been on their wedding day, though now she wore it in a daring pixie cut. She golfed, worked part-time as a school counselor, and breathed life into every room she entered.

“Mom?” I croaked, automatically leaning in for a hug.

“Lou, isn’t this the cutest little cottage you’ve ever seen?” she said.

My father grunted. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts and was nudging the porch railing with the toe of his sneakers. “Seems solid,” he said.

Mom was impressed by pretty things. Dad preferred to appreciate sturdiness.

“How you doing, kiddo?” he asked.

I transferred my hug to him and laughed as my toes left the ground. While Mom was a few inches shorter than Tina and me, Dad was over six feet tall.

A bear of a man who always made me feel like everything was going to be okay.

“What are you two doing here?” I asked as he carefully put me down.

“Sweetheart, you can’t tell us we have a granddaughter and not expect us to drive straight here. Did we get you out of bed? That’s a lovely nightgown,”

Mom noted.

Bed.

Nightgown.

Sex.

Knox.

Oh, God.

“Uhhh…”

“I told you we should have cut that cruise short, Lou,” Mom said, slapping Dad in the shoulder. “She’s obviously depressed. She’s still in her pajamas.”

“She’s not depressed, Mandy,” Dad insisted, rapping his knuckles on the door frame as he stepped inside. “What is this? Oak?”

“I don’t know, Dad. Mom, I’m not depressed,” I said, trying to figure out a way to get them out of the house before my naked guest woke up. “I just…

uh…worked late last night, and there was a family emergency—”

Mom gasped. “Is something wrong with Waylay?”

“No. Mom. Sorry. Not our family. The family who owns this place and the bar I work at.”

“I can’t wait to see it. What’s it called again? Hanky Pank?”

“Honky Tonk,” I corrected her, spying my dress on the floor. “Did you see the living room?” It came out as an almost shout, and my parents exchanged a glance before pretending to be enthralled with the space I was waving at.

“Just look at that fireplace, Lou.”

“Yes, look at the fireplace,” I all but screeched.

Dad grunted.

As my parents admired the fireplace, I hooked the dress with my toes and swept it under the kitchen table.

“And you got a dog! My, you have been busy since the wedding.”

Waylon lifted his head, a jowl still stuck to the pillow. His tail thumped on the cushion, and my mom dissolved into a puddle of affection. “Who’s a handsome boy? You are, sir. Yes, you are!”

“See, Mandy, she’s not depressed. She’s just busy,” Dad insisted.

“Isn’t the view of the woods great?” I said, the words sounding strangled as I pointed frantically at the windows.

When they turned to admire the woods through the glass, I grabbed Knox’s jeans off the floor and threw them into the cabinet under the sink.

“Beeper, come meet your niece or nephew doggy!” My mother was using her “straight-A report card on the refrigerator” voice, which was definitely loud enough to wake the man upstairs in my bed.

“You guys brought Beeper?”

Beeper was my parents’ latest rescue dog. She was a mix of breeds—I got them the DNA test for Christmas the previous year—that had been scrambled together and came out looking like a large, brown Brillo pad with feet. The Brillo pad appeared in the doorway and trotted inside.

Waylon sat up and gave an appreciative “woof.”

“This is Waylon. He’s not mine. He belongs to my…um. Neighbor? Hey, do you guys want to get out of here and go for breakfast or lunch or just leave for any reason at all?”

Waylon hopped off the couch and booped noses with Beeper. Beeper let out a high-pitched yap, and the two of them began to zoom around the minuscule first floor.

“Daisy, baby, what the fuck are you doing down there?”

I watched in horror as bare feet attached to naked, muscular legs appeared on the stairs. Mom and I froze to the spot as boxer briefs—thank God for penis-covering miracles—came into view.

Dad, moving quickly for a big guy, put himself between us and the approaching boxer briefs.

“State your business,” Dad shouted at Knox’s bare torso.

“Wow, wow, wow,” Mom whispered.

She wasn’t wrong. The man was freaking spectacular.

Waylon and Beeper chose that moment to take their zoomies up the stairs.

“Daze, you wanna explain what’s goin’ on?” Knox drawled as he sidestepped the canine catastrophe.

I ducked under Dad’s arm and moved to stand between my parents and my boss…er, neighbor? One-time sex partner?

“Uh. Okay. So…I really wish I would have had more coffee.”

“Are those tattoos real? How many times a week do you go to the gym?”

Mom asked, peering under Dad’s armpit.

“What the hell is goin’ on?” Dad rumbled.

“Oh, Lou. So old-fashioned,” Mom said, giving him an affectionate pat on the backside before walking up to Knox and hugging him.

“Mom!”

Knox stood there woodenly clearly in shock.

“Welcome to the family,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Oh my God. I’m going to die of embarrassment,” I decided.

Knox patted my mother awkwardly on the back. “Uh. Thanks?”

She released him and then grabbed me by the shoulders. “We were so worried about you, sweetheart. It wasn’t like you to just up and leave your own wedding like that. Not that we ever liked Warner that much anyway.”

“Always thought he was a pretentious ass,” Dad cut in.

“I thought maybe you were depressed,” Mom continued. “But now it all makes sense! You fell in love with someone else and couldn’t go through with a sham of a marriage. Isn’t that wonderful, Lou?”

“I need coffee,” Knox muttered and headed for the kitchen.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Dad demanded, still not looking very pleased.

“Naomi,” Knox called from the coffeepot. “Pants?”

I winced. “Under the sink.”

He gave me a long, unreadable look before bending to retrieve his jeans.

My mother gave me an incredibly inappropriate double thumbs-up as Knox turned his back on us and zipped the fly of his jeans.

MOM! I mouthed.

But she just continued flashing me the thumbs and a creepy smile of approval.

It reminded me of the time I’d taken her to see the Andersontown Community Theater’s production of The Full Monty. My mom had an appreciation for the male form.

“Okay, I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves. Mom, Dad, this is Knox. He’s my neighbor and boss. We’re not in love.”

My mother’s face fell, and Dad looked at the floor, hands on hips, his shoulders hunched. I’d seen that reaction before. Concern. Disappointment.

Worry. But never for anything I’d done. It was always Tina bringing them trouble. I hated that this time it was me.

“Is this some one-night stand? Are you having some kind of mid-life crisis, and this guy took advantage of you?” My father, who had won Best Hugger three years running at the Witt Family Reunion, looked as if he was about ready to start throwing punches.

“Dad! No one took advantage of anyone.”

I shut up as Knox appeared at my side and handed me a fresh cup of coffee.

“How long are you two in town?” Knox asked my parents.

Dad glared at him.

“We haven’t decided,” Mom said to his tattoos. “We’re very excited to meet our granddaughter. And we’re a little concerned about you know who.”

She pointed at me as if I hadn’t heard her stage whisper.

Knox looked at me and sighed. He put his free hand on the back of my neck and pulled me into his side. “Here’s the situation. Your daughter blew into town trying to help her no-good sister, no offense.”

“None taken,” Mom assured him.

“I took one look at Naomi and fell hard and fast.”

“Knox,” I hissed. But he squeezed the back of my neck and continued.

“We’re just seeing where this thing goes. Could be nothing, but we’re enjoying it. You raised a smart, beautiful, stubborn woman.”

Mom fluffed her hair. “She gets that from me.”

“What is it you do for a living, Knock?” Dad demanded.

“Knox,” I corrected. “He owns businesses and some property, Dad.”

My father harrumphed. “Self-made man? Guess it’s better than Mr.

Nepotism.” I assumed he was speaking of Warner, who got a job at the family company after college graduation.

“Got lucky a few years back and won the lottery. Invested most of it here in my hometown,” Knox explained. “Thought I’d used up all my luck till Naomi here showed up.”

Fake Romantic Knox was going to ruin all real romance for me if I wasn’t careful.

“His name’s on the police station,” I said with forced brightness.

His grip on my neck tightened again. I reached behind him and pinched the skin just above the waistband of his jeans. He squeezed harder. I pinched harder.

“I need some Advil or something,” Dad muttered, rubbing his forehead.

“You shouldn’t have a headache, Lou. Our daughter is fine. I was the one who was worried on the way down here, remember?” Mom said as if Knox and I weren’t even in the room.

“Yeah? Well, now I’m the one who thinks there’s something wrong with her.”

“Let me get you something for your head,” I offered, trying to extricate myself from Knox’s grip. But he merely squeezed tighter and took a sip of his coffee.

“Don’t be silly. I have all of your father’s favorite anti-inflammatories in my purse,” Mom announced. She bustled over to where she’d planted her purse next to the front door. Dad shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered into the kitchen. I saw him frown at Knox’s t-shirt where it lay crumpled on the stove top.

“Waylay is going to be so excited to meet you. Where are you two staying while you’re here?” I asked, desperate to make small talk.

“There’s a motel in town. We’ll see if they have any rooms available,”

Dad said, opening cupboard doors and tapping the shelves.

After a three-week luxury Mediterranean cruise, I didn’t think my parents would enjoy the moldy, dilapidated motel. I was already shaking my head when Knox spoke up.

“I think we can do better than that. We’ll find room for you at Liza J’s.”

“Knox,” I hissed. How was I going to pretend to be in a relationship with Knox with my parents staying practically next door?

He leaned in like he was going to nuzzle the side of my face and whispered, “Shut up.” Then he brushed his lips over my temple, and my nipples went hard.

Mom waltzed by with a bottle of pills, beaming at me. I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I’m sure you’d want to stay as close to your daughter and granddaughter as possible,” Knox said.

“Knox, can I see you outside?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“Do you see how they can’t keep their hands off each other?” Mom trilled behind us.

“Yeah. You got any antacids in there?” Dad asked, looking ill.

I closed the door and dragged Knox onto the porch.

“So what are we supposed to do? Pretend to be in a relationship until my parents leave?”

“You’re welcome. You fucking owe me, Daze. Do you have any idea what this is gonna do to my bachelor reputation?”

“I don’t care about your reputation! I’m the one who has to pass a home study! Besides, I’m tired of owing you! Why do you keep riding to my rescue?”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Maybe I like being the hero for once.”

My knees threatened to buckle as the knee-jerk desire to swoon swept over me. His grin was downright sinful when he pulled me into him.

The contact with his body so soon after The Best Sex Ever was frying my circuits. I didn’t want to yell at him anymore. I wanted to kiss him.

“Or maybe,” he whispered against my lips, “I just want to know what it feels like to have your smart mouth wrapped around my cock.”

That was at least honest. And dirty. And I liked it.

He had one hand boldly cupping my rear end. The other held my hair at the base of my neck.

“Pardon the interruption.”

Instinctively, I jumped back from Knox. Well, I tried to. He still had a pretty good grip on me. Which turned out to be a good thing since I probably would have fallen right over the railing when I spotted caseworker Yolanda Suarez eyeing us from the foot of the steps.

“Mrs. Suarez, how lovely to see you again.” I choked the words out.