Page 34 of Stolen Beauty

When I exit, the overhead light is off and he’s lying in bed, reading on his phone. He’s shirtless. And perfect. Defined muscle, sun bronzed skin. Lickable abs.

He pats the mattress beside him, and I obediently walk around to the vacant side of the bed.

“You said Sam stayed with you when he was on leave?”

“Well, Sloane and I shared an apartment in Durham and he’d stay with us. When I moved to Asheville, he’d usually stay with me. He liked the mountains and whitewater rafting and hiking and mountain biking. You know, all that stuff he loves to do. It’s all in Asheville.”

His teeth gleam and his eyes are black pools in the dim light. There’s nothing sexual about the way he’s looking at me, but my body is oblivious. A ray of heat travels from my shoulders down to my core.

“What kind of stuff do you like to do? Are you an indoor girl?”

“I like to be outdoors. Hiking. I’ll do whitewater rafting in a raft, but not in one of those little boats.”

“Kayaks. Not your thing?”

“Sam tried to teach me once how to roll. Water went up my nose and I nearly drowned. In general, I prefer activities that don’t require waivers with a line in all caps stating you may die.”

He chuckles. It’s a light sound, one that brings out a silly smile. I obviously can’t see my smile, but I feel it plastered on my face.

“I’ve been meaning to visit Asheville. I have a little side business, and some retailers that carry my product are in Asheville.”

“What do you sell?”

“Knives. Gear. With the gear, I’m pretty much a reseller. That business has been slowly growing for the last five or six years.”

“What do you like best about it? Your business?”

“I like it all. Testing the product. Marketing. Website design. Logistics. Developing relationships with retailers. What do you like about teaching?”

“The kids. I didn’t originally want to teach kindergarten. I wanted a little older. But I’m where I’m supposed to be. They’re the cutest. And I love seeing how much they grow from September to June.”

“I can see you as a teacher.”

“Like your mom?”

“Yep, just like my mom. She loved her kids, too.”

He rolls onto his back, exhales, and closes his eyes.

With his eyes closed, I peruse his resting form unrestrained. Unruly chocolate strands, let loose since his departure from the military, tuft in wild angles. His chest is mostly smooth except for a smattering of dark curls along the center. His muscles relax, presenting a smooth plane. He has the body of an athlete. I mean, he’s more than an athlete. He’s an entrepreneur who does brave things like find missing people. But he works that body. A body that, if Sam’s accounts are true, has been abused and pushed beyond comprehension.

The thin comforter lies low across his waist and drapes over his legs and above those legs the sheet drapes over a noticeable length. Does he have an erection? Or is that his size when he’s flaccid? Nope. No. Nada. Cannot go there.

My eyes snap closed and I roll onto my side, facing the wall. I will respect Knox. He’s my brother’s best friend, and he’s doing me an enormous service. As a friend. I will not gape at him. Or have inappropriate thoughts.

The bed sinks. The bathroom door closes. I roll over as a light comes on below the door crack and the shower turns on.

I am absolutely invading his privacy. Cramping his space. Tomorrow, I’ll ask Stella about that empty unit. It’s in the building and perhaps it’s close enough Knox will approve.

CHAPTER 11

Knox

Ice cold water glides down my throat. Sweat beads along my forehead. At almost seven in the morning, the outside temperature is mild, but I pushed it hard on my run.

Millie’s sprawled in the living area, alternatively watching me and the bedroom.

Sage is still asleep. I hate the idea of waking her. Her body needs sleep. When I emerged from the shower last night, she was sleeping soundly. Thank god. I must be a masochist encouraging her to sleep in the same bed with me while promising to behave. I foresee many late-night showers in my future. My body reacts to hers. I’m attune to her presence. Why? She’s cute. Attractive. Beautiful, even, but it’s not like she’s the first attractive woman I’ve been around. Maybe I’m more aware of her presence because she’s untouchable. She could never be just a hookup to me. She’s my best friend’s little sister. And more than that, she’s been through so much. One of the things that stands out to me when I think back on those years when she was pretty sickly, she never sought sympathy. She didn’t want to be the center of attention. And her inner strength. That shone through even when she was a kid. Grace. That’s what she possesses. The grace to accept whatever comes her way and to hold her head up high and push forward. She’s not one to give up. I respect that about her.

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