She jerked her head away from him, her eyes bright and heated. She shook her head again, this time almost sad. Yanking open her door, she slid into her car. He stepped away before she backed out and nearly ran her tire over his foot. He watched her go, telling himself she would relent and give them another chance.
She didn’t once glance back at him as she drove away.
KNOX DECIDED TO give her a little more space before coming around again. Two more days. He thought that would be enough time for her to start to wonder if he gave up . . . maybe enough time for her to worry that he had. Maybe enough time for her to miss him.
At her apartment complex, he noticed her car was parked in its usual spot, so he took the stairs to her condo.
He knocked. “Briar?”
Nothing.
“I know you’re in there. Baby, please . . .”
“She’s not home.” He spun around to face Shelley. She was leaning in her open door, a couple of kids crowded around her, watching him with big curious eyes that looked a lot like their mother’s eyes.
“Where is she?”
She considered him a long moment before answering, “Now I don’t know if I should be telling you that.”
He nodded. “All right. That’s fair. You’re looking out for your friend. I get that.”
“Yeah, you haven’t been precisely stellar boyfriend material.”
He nodded. “I know that. I’d like to make it up to her.” He paused for a breath. “I love her.”
“She mentioned you said that. She doesn’t believe you, of course.”
“I’m trying to prove it to her.”
“Hmm.” Shelley eyed him. “Briar doesn’t have a lot of experience with men. Not like me. She doesn’t understand that men don’t usually profess love. Not after they’ve gotten what they want, if you know what I mean.” She shot a quick glance to her children and then looked back at him, lifting her eyebrows meaningfully.
“Yeah. I know what you mean.”
“They don’t chase you down and say those three little words over and over unless they mean it.”
“I mean it.”
She nodded slowly. “I think you do.” Placing a hand on top of her little girl’s head, she guided her back into the apartment.
He turned to go, assuming she was finished talking. “She’s on a date with my ex-brother-in-law at the Bean House. You know the place? It’s a fancy little coffee shop on Peek Avenue.”
He stopped and looked back at her. “Your ex-brother-in-law?”
“Yep. I set them up. My ex has a decent brother. Thought she should see what else is out there.”
He glared at her.
She winked at him. “Maybe you should pop in. Order a latte and scone.”
He’d never eaten a scone in his life. Much less a latte. “Yeah. I’ll do that.”
SHELLEY WAS RIGHT. Daniel was nice and down-to-earth and he smelled good. Like fresh laundry sheets. He owned a hardware store in town. They shared a plate of assorted pastries and sipped their coffees, going through all the usual first date getting-to-know-you banter.
“My mother was a nurse. Worked long hours,” Daniel shared as he lifted the lid off his cup to cool the coffee.
“I work in a practice,” Briar explained. “Regular hours. Seven-thirty to four P.M. I get every third Friday off, too. It’s nice. A good place to work. Good people.”
“Well, that makes all the difference,” he said, smiling kindly. “Loving what you do.”
She smiled back at him. He really was nice. Nice looking. Steady job. So why could she only think of Knox? Why must she compare Daniel’s every feature, his every expression, to Knox? Was she always going to do this? Because there was no comparison. She would never meet another man to hold up to him in the looks department. And why did sitting here with this guy feel like she was betraying him? Knox and she weren’t together. She owed him nothing.
“Hello, there.” And suddenly Knox was there, pulling up a chair and sitting beside her and Daniel. She blinked for a moment, wondering if her thoughts had conjured him. Was she totally losing it?
But Daniel gaped, too. So this was happening. This was real. Knox was here and crashing her date.
It took her a moment to find her voice. “Knox! What are you doing here?”
“Joining you and . . .” He extended his hand to Daniel. “Hello. Knox Callaghan.”
Daniel returned the handshake. “Daniel Ortega.”
“Joining you and Daniel,” he finished with an easy smile that was so unlike his usual austere self.
“Leave now, Knox!”
“Excuse me, what’s happening here?” Daniel gestured at the three of them.
“You see, Daniel,” Knox began, leaning back in his chair and draping an arm over the back of her chair. “I only think it’s fair to let you know up front that I’m in love with Briar. I messed things up, and she’s not ready to forgive me yet, but I’m going to do everything in my power to win her back.”
“It has nothing to do with forgiveness, you jackass. I just don’t want you. I don’t love you.”
Knox slanted a look at Daniel that was so knowing and smug that she wanted to scream. “I think she does.”
Daniel replaced the lid back on his cup. “I see,” he said, as though he did in fact see.
She reached for his arm. “Daniel, I’m so sorry. This is really embarrassing.”
“No, not at all. This stuff happens. It took me a long time to get over my ex and be ready to even date.” He pushed back his chair. “Clearly, you’re not in a place where you’re ready, Briar. Good luck.” He glanced at Knox. “Nice meeting you.”
Knox shook his hand again. “You, too.”
“I trust you can see she gets back home.”
“Not a problem.”
Briar gaped and then dropped her head into her hands. “This isn’t happening.” She looked up and glared at the back of Daniel as he walked away.
“Nice guy.”
She turned her wrath on Knox. “Yeah. He was. Thanks for screwing that up.”
Knox helped himself to one of the scones on the table. “C’mon. That would have gone nowhere. You still want me.”
“Stop saying that!” She grabbed her purse off the back of the chair. “I’m going home.” He stood and fell into step beside her as she hurried over the plank wood floor of the coffeehouse. “Don’t worry. I’ll walk.”
“Briar, it’s not even close. Don’t be so stubborn,” he said as they stepped out onto the parking lot.
She started toward the sidewalk, not even caring that he was right. She would walk the seven miles in these boots. She didn’t care. She was not climbing into his truck with him.
She kept moving, passing a group of three preppy-looking young men heading to the coffeehouse. One of them elbowed another one and nodded at her and Callaghan.
They just cleared the three men when one called out, “Callaghan!”
Knox stopped and turned. Curious, she stopped, too, and looked back.
The three men stood side by side, legs braced apart, anger bristling off them like wild dogs. “They let you out?”
Briar looked up at Knox. He was tense, the brackets around his mouth drawn tight. He immediately understood what this was. And so did she. These guys knew who he was and they clearly had an ax to grind. “That’s right.”
“We played football with Mason. They should have given you the death sentence for killing him.”
“Nope. Just eight years,” Knox returned, his bland voice in direction opposition to the tension radiating from him. He touched her arm and pulled her behind him.
“You with him?” one of the guys called out to her, his gaze direct and piercing. “You know he’s a murderer?”
Knox squeezed her arm, advising her to sa
y nothing.
“We don’t want any trouble. We’re just leaving,” Knox said, sounding so very un-Knoxlike. Usually he’d be kicking ass by now.
“What the hell world we living in when a man like you can walk the streets free?”
Knox turned then, keeping her in front of him and guiding her toward the truck. She wasn’t about to argue with him about walking home anymore. She just wanted to get away from these men with violence in their eyes.
Then Knox’s hand was wrenched off her arm. He went down with a grunt. She spun around, watching in horror as two of them men started beating him.
“Knox!” she screamed, lunging forward, but the other man caught her up and held her back, one arm locked around her waist.
The two continued to beat on him, but he did nothing. Simply took it. He made it back up to his feet, and they let him, panting and grinning, enjoying every moment of it.
“What are you doing? Knox, fight!” she pleaded. His gaze found hers, and what she saw there was like a knife in her heart. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t fight because of her. He was showing her he could restrain himself even under provocation.
“That’s right!” One man punched Knox in the face and sent his entire body spinning. He collided with a parked car and clung to it to keep from falling. “Fight back, you bastard.”
But he didn’t. He wouldn’t lift a finger.
“Knox,” she whimpered. She felt like she was dying, unable to catch her breath.
A man stepped out of the coffeehouse and shouted in their direction. “Hey! I’m calling the cops!”
“Hear that?” she shouted. “The cops are coming! You better go!”
The man holding her laughed. “We’ll probably get a medal.” They kept pounding on him. Over her screams.
“He won’t fight you! Just stop! Stop it!” Briar shouted at them.
“Prison turned you into a pussy,” one of the guys said, and spat in Knox’s bleeding face. “C’mon. Let’s go.”
Just then a police cruiser turned the corner and whipped into the parking lot with a brief blare of its siren. The two men hitting him stood back. Knox dropped to his knees, then to his side, dead weight, as the two officers hopped out of the vehicle, taser guns at the ready.
The man holding her released her and she rushed to Knox’s side, tears streaming hotly down her face. She ignored the policemen and three guys, her only thought for Knox. She wrapped an arm around him and gingerly touched the eye already swelling shut. “Why? Why did you let them do this to you?”
He looked out at her with his one good eye. “I told you. You make me stronger.”
She shook her head, bewildered. “You make no sense. They hurt you.” She was sobbing now.
An officer approached them. “Ma’am, are you all right?”
She turned on him, wiping at her tears. “Yes. These men attacked my boyfriend.”
“I’m a felon,” Knox admitted, wincing as he spoke. “They took exception to the fact that I was granted parole.”
The officer nodded, eyeing Knox up and down, not missing the fact that he had been beaten within an inch of his life. Behind him, his partner had the three men face down on the asphalt with their hands behind their heads. “I’ll call an ambulance to—“
“That’s not necessary—” Knox started to say.
“It’s necessary,” Briar cut in.
The policeman was moving away, already speaking into his radio.
“They’re going to look you over. What they did to you needs to be documented.”
“Boyfriend, huh?” He attempted a smile and winced at the effort.
Her cheeks warmed.
“I like that,” he murmured.
She took the edge of her shirt and rose on her knees to gingerly wipe his face. “You should have defended yourself.” Tears threatened again, making her voice crack.
“Sssh.” He stroked her face, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “This is nothing. I’ll heal. But if I fought them and got in trouble, got my parole revoked . . . then I go back. I lose you.” His voice choked up a little then. “I would never heal from that. I can’t lose you, Briar.”
She threw both arms around him, mindful not to squeeze him too tightly, convinced that he was the strongest man she had even known. “You’re not going to lose me. You won’t,” she vowed, pressing her lips to wherever she touched skin. His neck, cheeks, lips. “You’re never going to lose me, Knox. I love you.”
He grinned against her lips. “Told you so.”
She laughed harshly against his mouth. “Is that all you have to say?”
He sobered instantly. “No.” He cupped her head in both hands and looked steadily into her eyes. She gazed back at his battered face, waiting. “I love you, Briar, and I want to be with you. Always. I don’t want to go to bed a single night without you next to me. I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you. The whole thing.” He inhaled a broken breath just as an ambulance sounded in the distance, growing closer. “Please say you’ll have me.”
Her heart pounded so hard that she couldn’t say anything for a moment. She reached up and covered his hands where they held her face. “Yes. Yes, to all of that. I’ll have you, Knox. For always.”
With a short exultant cry, he covered her mouth with his own, muttering against her lips, “I can’t wait to get you home.”
EPILOGUE
Four months later . . .
BRIAR LET THE door slam behind her, anxious to leave the bitter cold of the February night behind. Immediately the aroma of rich tomato sauce hit her nose.
Textbooks littered her kitchen table alongside Knox’s open laptop, but the sound of a knife on the cutting board carried from the kitchen. “I’m home,” she called, unwinding the thick scarf from her neck.
Knox stepped out of the kitchen wearing a smile. “Hey, how was work?” He pulled her into his arms, and she smelled all the ingredients that went into his delicious sauce in the fabric of his snug-fitting thermal shirt.
“Good. How was your day?”
He kissed her long and hard before answering, “Good. I’m making spaghetti.” His lips drifted from her mouth to nuzzle at her neck. “But it’s on a low simmer. We can disappear into the bedroom for, oh . . . an hour . . .”
“An hour?” she laughed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet, carrying her into her bedroom.
“An hour,” he repeated. “At least.”
“Don’t you have a test tomorrow?” In addition to still working at Roscoe’s, Knox had just started two courses at the local college.
“I’m ready,” he replied, lowering her to the bed and coming over her. Straddling her, he reached behind him and pulled his shirt over his head. Her hands drifted down the flat expanse of his stomach, her blood heating to a simmer that was probably hotter than that sauce on the stove.
He seized her wrist and positioned her palm on the bulge of his erection. “See? Ready.” He winked down at her and she giggled.
He sighed and leaned over to kiss her again. “I love the sound of your laugh.”
“It’s because of you. You make me happy.”
He stared at her solemnly for a moment. “I love you, Briar.”
“I love you, too.”
“We’re going to have a good life together,” he said with resolve, his eyes glittering with emotion. Almost as though a lingering part of him would always doubt that possibility.
She brushed a hand over his bristly jaw reassuringly and stared into his eyes. “I know, Knox. That’s why we’re going to move in together.”
He stilled. “We are?”
She shrugged, trying not to feel suddenly insecure. “You’re here almost every night . . .”
“Briar, my uncle needs someone with him out at the farm. I can’t just—”
“I’m mo
ving in with you both at the farmhouse,” she clarified.
He stilled. “You want to live with me and Uncle Mac? I can’t ask you to—”
“I know you’ll never leave him. That’s who you are. The kind of man you are. Loyal and kind and devoted. It’s why I love you. So yeah, if we’re going to live together, it’s going to be with Uncle Mac. At the farmhouse.”
He expelled a breath and pulled her tightly into his arms. “Finding you, being with you . . . you make everything that’s ever happened to me worth getting to this moment.”
She hugged him back, her arms looped around his big shoulders, shivering a little as he spoke into her ear. “Except . . . we can’t move in together, Briar.”
She pulled back, looking at him in alarm. “What do you mean?”
“Not without an understanding between us first,” he added. She blinked, shaking her head, utterly bewildered. His cobalt gaze flicked over her face. “Marry me.”
Those two words speared her in the chest, robbing her of breath. There was a shadow of uncertainty as he stared at her, waiting for her to say something. Something good. Something like yes.
She swallowed, fighting for her voice. “Yes,” she said hoarsely. “Yes, yes, yes, I’ll marry you.”
His face broke into a smile. Then she couldn’t breathe again because they were kissing. And loving. There were no more words. Their sighs and moans and reverent touches said everything.
It wasn’t until later that either one of them could speak.
An hour at least.
Acknowledgments
THANK YOU TO my fabulous editor, May Chen, and the team at Avon for taking a chance on this book. I’ve been itching to write the Devil’s Rock series for a long time—even before I knew what it was called. As someone who has been writing for over ten years, it’s sometimes hard to stay excited about every project. It means the world to have a team that gives me the support and encouragement to write books that continuously excite me.
Additionally, this book wouldn’t be what it is without the keen insight of Stacey Kade, Sarah MacLean and my lovely Kiawah Island retreaters: Ally, Carrie, Monica and Rachel—thanks for listening to me wax on about this book and inspiring me through a wonderful week crammed full of blackberry pie and writerly magic. And lastly, a great thank you to Lisa Dess. Who knew when you worked as a corrections officer you would one day have an author pelt you with question after question regarding prison life? Thank you for your input. I hope you approve of any liberties I may have taken.