Page 94 of Hometown Touchdown
Mrs. Dalton is quiet for a beat. “Knox. Are you hiding something?”
Oh. God.
I crouch lower, squeezing myself behind the dryer like that's going to somehow make me invisible. I can hear Knox stepping further into the doorway, probably physically barring her from entering like a sexy human shield.
“Mom, please. Go home. I promise I’ll call you later. With details. So many plumbing details.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I'm...great. And blessed. Thanks for the muffins.”
Another beat of silence. My heart slams in my chest. If she walks three steps into the kitchen, she will see my keys, the extra coffee cup, and possibly my actual soul leaving my body.
Then—miracle of miracles—the door closes.
I don’t move. I wait ten full seconds until I hear Knox sigh like a man who just defused a bomb with one second left.
“Brynn?” he calls softly. “You alive in there?”
I poke my head out from the laundry room. “Did I just hear you tell your poor, innocent, unknowing mother a sex joke?”
He shrugs sarcastically. “At least I didn’t tell her a lie. Youweredripping on my fucking counter.”
I step into the kitchen, sheet wrapped around me toga-style, and we just look at each other—me in borderline hysterics, him with his shirt on backwards and hair like he fought a hurricane.
“Your mom brought youmuffins, Knox.”
“She’s a stealth operator. She’s done this to me before.”
I walk over and press my forehead into his chest. “I hate that I had to hide behind your dryer. I was genuinely considering crawling into the basket.”
He wraps his arms around me, holding me like he never wants to let go. “We can’t do this again. I mean, we can definitely dothis—” he gestures between us, “—again, but not the hiding part.”
I nod. “Yeah. We need to tell them. My parents, your parents. Before someone else does.”
“And we beg them to keep it quiet for now,” he says. “No church newsletter updates. No book club gasps.”
“No bunko-night gossip orbless her heartside-eye.”
He presses a kiss to my temple. “Exactly.”
“Think we can trust them?”
He considers it. “Let’s just hope we don’t need to blackmail them into silence.”
We both laugh, relief slipping into the spaces where tension used to live. And for a second, I feel it again—that warm, shimmering peace that only comes from being exactly where you’re meant to be.
The laughter fades, but the warmth lingers between us, soft and charged.
I lean my forehead against Knox’s chest and breathe him in—clean cotton, and something distinctly him. Comforting. Dangerous in all the ways that make me want to curl in closer and never leave. I smooth a hand over the center of his chest, right where his heartbeat thuds steady beneath my palm.
“I can’t believe your mom almost saw me in nothing but a sheet,” I say, voice muffled by the fabric. “That would’ve been a whole new level of awkward.”
He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “You’re lucky she didn’t come armed with lasagna. Muffins are her casual intrusion food. Lasagna means she plans to stay a while.”
I tilt my head back, smiling. “I wasn’t scared of her, you know.”
“No?”
