“I’m not sure what you mean,” she says, looking down, not at me.
“I’m talking about what happened at the gym.” I have no idea why she’s avoiding the question, acting like she has no clue what I’m saying.
Looking up at me, she shakes her head. “What’s there to talk about, Knox? You did me a favor with Drew, so I was repaying it. No harm, no foul. I mean, sure, the kiss might have been a little much, but she definitely got a show out of it.”
Umm, what the fuck? She thinks that was all for show? I honestly have no idea what to say. I lean back in my chair, staring at her, wondering why she’d think I’d benefit from lying to Megan about who she is. She was there. There’s no way I was the only one who felt our chemistry the whole time we were in the ring, even before the kiss.
“Charlie, I wasn’t trying to put on a show,” I tell her, but she waves me off.
“No, seriously, Knox, it’s fine. I really didn’t mind, especially since Drew hasn’t bothered me after that night. It was extremely beneficial. I’m totally cool with it.”
“Char—” I start to protest, but she cuts me off.
“And hey, I’ll extend the same offer to you. Any time you need a pretend significant other, I’m your girl. Next time, keep your tongue to yourself,” she teases, rising from the table and gathering dishes while I sit here, mute, trying to wrap my mind around what she just said. Pretend? I don’t want it to be fucking pretend, and I thought that kiss proved that she didn’t either. As I guy who defuses bombs for a living, I’m wondering how in the hell I got my wires crossed.
Charlie
I’M TRYING to give him an easy out, but when he says it wasn’t a show, I want to believe it. It’s just that I’ve spent the last three days telling myself over and over again that we’re friends, only that, both with shitty exes. And I’m not about to play second fiddle to Megan—or even the memory of her. He’s apparently got too much pent-up anger and emotional baggage when it comes to her, and if she’s still in the picture, I know I can’t go there.
He’s watching me as I take the dishes to the sink. I’m wearing pajama shorts and a tiny camisole, and the way he’s looking at me makes me want to forget my decision to just keep it friendly. It’s an expression of confusion, mixed with what looks like desire, and it’s something I’m struggling not to notice.
After coming home from work, I expected just to plop down on the sofa and veg, never expecting to be greeted by Knox. The fact that he’s paid enough attention to notice my eating habits and then cook me a meal to make sure that I fully satisfied is probably the sweetest thing he’s done for me—and that’s not Knox. He doesn’t do sweet, so he says, and he doesn’t do relationships. Unfortunately for me, just like I told Kale, I don’t do casual. So it’s better to stay friends and live with the memory of that amazing kiss. Some Knox is better than no Knox, right? I’ll try to keep telling myself that.
When I finish the dishes, I realize he’s no longer in the kitchen. Checking the living room, I see he’s not there either. It’s not long before I find him on the back deck, wine in hand, feet up on a wooden post, looking completely relaxed, without a care in the world. Taking a moment to watch him, I’m wishing things could be different.
I grab my glass from the island. Right as I’m about to join him, I spot his guitar resting on the wall at the beginning of the hall. Taking it with me, I go out on to the deck and sit next to him.
“I never did get that serenade you promised me, you know?” I tell him, wanting more than anything to finally hear him play. After that night on the river, he never did end up playing for me, and it hasn’t come up again. I’ve heard him practicing over the last month and decide it’s finally time I get him to play for me.
Chuckling, he sets his glass down and grabs the guitar from my hands. “I was kind of hoping you’d forgotten that.”
“Nope. I’ve just been biding my time, letting you perfect your skills. I decided that I can’t wait any longer though.”
“You know, I played when I was younger, but I stopped once I joined the Army. I’m not sure why. I thought it’d be hard, but I picked it back up pretty easily. Remind me to thank your dad next time I see him. I’ve been having a lot of fun getting reacquainted with it.”
“I’ll let him know. Now stop stalling and play me something,” I tell him as I lean back in my chair, placing my own feet up on the wooden post as well. Closing my eyes, I wait for him to start.
The sound of slow chords begins to fill the air, and I’m unfamiliar with the notes. After an instrumental intro, I’m shocked when he starts to sing. His voice is beautiful, but as he continues, I’m completely floored. It’s an incredibly sad song about giving up on someone but wanting them to stop you, and the way he’s singing is…beyond words. It’s haunting, and emotional, and I can’t help but open my eyes to watch him.
His are closed as his long fingers strum the guitar, and he’s no longer leaning back in his chair. Instead, he’s sitting up straight, completely rigid, not moving save for his fingers and mouth. I’m completely entranced, and when he opens his eyes, ours lock and I can’t look away. It’s like he’s singing right to me, but the words don’t make sense. His voice slightly falters on the next line, and he finally looks away. Replaying the words, I can only imagine who they’re for, who he’s saying he loves, and to whom he’s saying goodbye.
Repeating the chorus two more times, he finishes the song, and I’m breathless. Why did he choose that song? Did Megan’s appearance really affect him that much? Or am I reading too much into it?
“Well?” he asks me, breaking my train of thought. He’s watching me intently, and I have to calm my racing heart before I can even begin to think of responding. Not knowing what to say, I down half my wine in one big gulp.
“That…that was incredible. I had no idea you could sing. Or even play like that,” I tell him, being more than honest.
Grinning sheepishly, he shrugs. “Not many people do.”
“What song was that? I’ve never heard it before and it was beautiful.”
“It’s called “Say Something” by Great Big World. My cousin’s a music blogger and always sent me the up-and-coming music when I was in Afghanistan. Something about that song stuck with me and I just really wanted to learn how to play it,” he says, apparently trying to downplay the meaning behind it.
“I’ll have to check it out on iTunes. I loved it.” I can’t wait to get to my room now to hear the original version, although I’m kicking myself for not stealthily recording Knox’s performance.
“Want to hear something else?” he asks, and I nod.
I have to laugh when he launches into Kip Moore’s “Beer Money”, and the mood completely changes. We spend the next hour or so jamming out—well, he does—and he even takes requests. Cracking me up with his rendition of Boy Named Sue, I can’t help but smile at the fact he remembers that I love that song. Once he finishes, he grins at me before standing up.
“Refill?” he asks, pointing to my wine glass.
“Only if you promise to keep serenading me, Rugged.” He grins at the use of his nickname, something I’ve decided to embrace after Jace spilled the beans. “And I want more new country, even if you claim not to like it!”
Shaking his head, he goes back inside. A few moments later, he comes back out, and I grin when I spot the cowboy hat on his head.
He hands me my wine glass and sets a fresh bottle down in between us. “I figured if I’m going to be singing country I’d better get in character.”
“Oh, I definitely dig it. Now you’re not just Rugged Man, but you’re Rugged Cowboy,” I tease, loving the look on him.