“What did he mean, am I the one you told him about?” I ask, resisting the urge to take a taste of her. Feeling her shiver beneath me, it’s all I can do not to press my erection against her, to let her feel how she’s affecting me, how she’s been affecting me.

Pulling back, I look into her eyes, searching them, and wait for her answer. She clears her throat. “Oh, that was nothing. I saw him at the store the day we got into that argument, and he tried to sweet talk me. I may have pretended that I was dating someone, and I guess he just assumed that was you tonight.”

Shaking my head, I grin down at her. “So what you’re telling me is that I’m your fake boyfriend? At least as far as your ex-fiancé knows?”

Grinning at me sheepishly, she nods. “In my defense, I didn’t think of anyone at the time. I just told him I was seeing someone. There was no elaboration.”

I look down in to her eyes, and I notice that in this light they’re lighter than chocolate—the color of whiskey. “So it was all a ruse?” I whisper, leaning in closer so my lips are almost grazing her throat. Feeling her swallow hard and knowing that I’m pushing it, I decide to pull back and release her hands.

She stares at me for a moment before shaking her head, and I’m wondering what she’s thinking right now. “I’m sorry, Knox. When I told him I was seeing someone, I didn’t actually expect to see him out. Thanks for covering for me.”

Knowing I need to pull away from her, I back up and head towards the car. She follows, not making eye contact with me. When we get in the car, she plays around with the radio before stopping on a local station playing ‘hot, new country.’ She grins at me when Luke Bryan comes on the radio, and she sings along as I drive us to the McGregor Park Amphitheater on the Riverwalk where the city puts on events all throughout the summer. The whole time I’m replaying that scene over and over in my mind, wishing I’d found my balls and actually moved in for the kiss. I’m at war with myself, wanting to take this to the next level but hesitant to put myself out there again. The cage my heart’s been locked up in feels like it’s being infiltrated, and it no longer seems so indestructible.

“We’re celebrating at the river?” she asks, turning in her seat to look at me.

“Well, you said you like classic cars and classic rock, right?”

She nods, and I’m happy as shit that my plan is working out.

“I saw earlier on the news that there was going to be a Journey tribute band playing at the Pavilion and figured we could grab a few brews and enjoy the music.”

A huge smile crosses her face, and I think she’s surprised I actually had a plan. Don’t judge me while I give myself a mental high-five, but I’m getting more and more addicted to that smile. Knowing I put it on her face is a definite win.

“There’s no substitute for Steve Perry, but since he had to go solo, I’m all for it.”

Getting out of the car, we grab a couple of beers from one of the street vendors the city hires for these events. Even though it’s packed, we’re lucky enough to find a couple of open seats far enough away from the stage we can watch the band but not so loud that we have to shout when talking. We listen in silence for a few minutes, and I’m more drawn to watching Charlie singing along to Separate Ways than I am watching the band. When the piano begins to play the notes for Stay Awhile, she squeals, grabbing my arm.

“I love this song. Dad was always playing it when I was a kid because he said it reminded him of my mom.” A soft smile spreads over her face, but for a split second there’s a sadness in her eyes. I’m not sure what she’s thinking, but something about the look on her face has me placing my arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. She leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder as she closes her eyes. We sit in silence as the song continues, before the band switches gears and gets the crowd amped up by playing Don’t Stop Believing.

After a few songs, I can tell they’re pretty good. I’m surprised at how relaxed I am, but I know I shouldn’t be. I’m beginning to always feel this way around her, and I need to get used to it.

Not able to contain my curiosity any longer, I decide to bite the bullet and ask about that guy. “So back at the pub, was that who you were talking about before when you mentioned you hated cheaters?”

Sighing, she pulls away from me as she finishes her beer. “Yeah. I figured you’d picked up on that before when you guessed he was the ex.”

“Well, I assumed, but I wanted to make sure. Pretty ballsy for him to still approach you after being a cheating prick. Then again, he cheated on you, which already proves he’s a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah, well, he’s delusional if he thinks he’s ever going to get a chance again.”

Shaking my head, I can’t help but be happy knowing that she’s not planning on getting back with him. “So what the hell happened? How’d you find out about it?”

Standing up, she reaches her hand out and I place mine in hers. She pulls me up before dropping it, and I immediately miss the skin-on-skin contact. “Mind if we walk for a bit? It’s a little loud, and if I’m going to spill, I’d rather not talk about it around all these other people.”

Nodding, we move away from the amphitheater and start to walk along the Cumberland River, leaving the crowd behind. She immediately draws me into the story when she tells me that she walked in on the fucker banging another chick. Once she’s finished, I’m trying not to let my jaw hit the pavement. We’re a fucking pair, and she doesn’t even know it yet. I don’t know what’s worse—that my ex cheated with my brother or the fact that she walked in on hers screwing a maid. I know this is going to sound incredibly selfish and it probably makes me an asshole, but even though I feel bad that she had to go through it, she wouldn’t be here with me if Drew hadn’t been a royal fuckbag. Don’t get me wrong. Given the chance, I’d love to kick his ass. But then I’d probably stand over him and ask to shake his hand for getting out of the picture.

“Anyways, so that’s my sob story. How about you?” she asks, her shoulder playfully bumping into mine.

For the first time in so long, I find myself wanting to open up to a woman. She just laid it all out for me, and it only feels right that I do the same, but there’s a damn lump in my throat. I’m not sure I can get the words out just yet. We walk in a comfortable silence for the next few minutes. Grabbing my hand, she pulls me over to a picnic table and she sits on top of it, facing the water. I sit next to her, our hands still linked.

“You know, Knox, you don’t have to tell me anything about it, but I’m here to listen if you ever want to talk.”

For some reason, I want to open up to her, and the feel of her hand in mine makes it so much easier. But after eleven years of avoiding this very thing, I have no idea how to even begin and the thought that I even want to confuses the shit out of me. But there’s something about the way she’s looking up at me that makes me want to open my heart to the possibility of letting someone in. Even if it is just for a sneak peek before I shut it away again.

Charlie

PART OF me is still reeling from seeing Drew while out with Knox, but if I’m honest with myself, I know that’s not why I’ve been feeling so out of sorts since we left the pub. When Knox drew me into his body and pretended I was his, it took everything in me not to melt into his embrace. I truly thought he was going to kiss me outside the pub, and I’ve been disappointed ever since that he didn’t. Thank God I didn’t close my eyes and lean in for it. Now that we’re sitting here side by side, I’m praying that he finally opens up to me. There’s something in there. Something he’s obviously been holding in for a very long time. And as I sit here with his hand in mine, I want to be the person he trusts enough to vent to. I’m hoping that by opening up to him, he’ll feel like he can reciprocate.