Page 8 of Lead Me Knot

“You know firsthand.” My hand moves to my head automatically, but I see concern ripple through her expression when she looks at it as well. "Sorry about that. I should make another ice pack.”

“It’s fine. No need to fuss. But lesson learned. Don’t sneak into bed with Lauralee Knot.”

She laughs. This time, it’s more genuine and softer, but then her hands still, and she asks, “Why is that disappointing?”

“Because it’s three forty-five in the morning, and you’re delirious.” She has me questioning if she’d feel the same when she’s not exhausted. I’m starting to think it’s worth spending some time in Peaches Sundries & More while I’m here.

She crosses the room and opens a bin on the far counter. “I appreciate you giving me grace, but I’m responsible for my own actions no matter the hour. Trust me, I’ve done worse at this hour.” She takes two croissants out and returns to the steel table, standing across from me.

“Color me intrigued and tell me more. Tell me all the bad things you’ve done.”

While she cuts the bread lengthwise and starts to dress them, she continues smiling. “I think you were right. It’s too early.”

“Is that your way of wanting to change the subject? Seems you like to do that a lot.”

“Not a lot. I just keep thinking how weird it is that my best friend’s brother—who used to tell us to scram—is so interested in me now.”

This time, I shrug. “Years pass. People change.” She’s changed alright. “We’re both adults and can talk about these things.” Her brown eyes are set on mine, but there’s no anger or any sign of being upset that a memory came back. I still feel the need to say, “I’m sorry I was an asshole.”

She returns to topping the sandwich, then cuts it in half. “As long as you’re not an asshole now, we’ll be good.”

“No guarantees.”

Her mouth twists to the side. I can tell something hangs on the tip of her tongue by how her gaze lands hard on mine. “You don’t have to be like that with me, Baylor.”

“What do you mean? Be like what?”

“Play the part of the hometown hero who has everyone falling at his feet, the smooth playboy I’m pretty certain you are in New York, or hold the expectations of the Pass on your shoulders anymore. You can be you with me. No mask. No facade. Just be real with me.”

There’s no venom to her words, no warning, not even a judgment placed on me or my behavior. She’s just saying what’s on her mind and allowing me to say what’s on mine. I’m not sure I like being under her microscope, though.

“Who says I’m not?” Even I hear the defensive edge in my tone.

She takes a deep breath, then tightens her lips into a straight line. Pushing the sandwich over on a napkin, she says, “Enjoy.”

I drop my guard. Lauralee’s not calling me out. She doesn’t know me well enough to do it anyway, so I let it roll off my back. But if she isn’t, why do I feel seen? “I’m not hiding who I am.”

“Okay.” She nods with a gentle smile.

Throwing my arms out wide, I reply, “No, for real. What you see is what you get.”

Her expression falters, but then she wrenches the corners of her mouth back into place. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

Then why do I feel like I do?

I take a bite of the sandwich, needing time to think about what’s going on here. Is it the hour, the woman, or the accusation that struck a chord? Probably all three. And why is this sandwich the best thing I’ve ever had?

I take another bite, watching her eat across from me. After I swallow, I ask, “Why do you think I’m not being genuine?”

“I think you’re genuine.” She lowers the sandwich to the napkin. “When you held me earlier to protect me from the storm, that was genuine. When you kissed my head, I know that came from the heart. But it’s the show you put on. It’s worked for you for so long that I don’t think you’re even aware you’re doing it anymore.”

My heartbeats grow heavy under her words. I’m not bothered by much, but this does the trick. I stare at her as she continues, “It’s late, or early, whatever you want to call this time of night or morning. I don’t have the energy to impress you, and I don’t want to. I just want you to see me as someone you don’t have to impress either because that guy doesn’t stand a chance of staying in my bed.”

I’m not upset, but she’s hit a nerve like no one else has bothered to try. If I take the words for how she means them, it’s not discomforting. She’s calling it like she sees me and is still standing on the other side of this table like she’s rooting for me.

I may not have known her before, but she’s giving me a good taste of who she is now, and I like it. I like that she’s comfortable enough to tell me what’s on her mind. No guessing. No playing games. A real straight shooter. I grin. “What about the other guy? What are his chances?”

This time, a smile blooms across her pretty face. Her eyes are bright as if the decision was already made, and she’s excited. “That guy has a real good chance.”

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