One More Taste (One and Only Texas #2)(61)
“Breakfast, then,” Knox tossed over his shoulder as he pushed out the door to the lobby. His Cab’d app said a driver was still ten minutes away, but maybe the wait would give him time to figure out what to do or say to Emily now that he knew the truth.
Chapter Fourteen
Knox pulled his truck in front of Murph’s Gym and confirmed what he knew he’d find. That there was no apartment to be seen either behind or above or next to the gym. Even if there had been apartments for rent, there was no way a resort executive lived on this rundown shop-lined street of a lower-income San Antonio suburb. He knew what Emily’s salary was.
He leaned against the hood of his truck and feigned casualness as he watched the smattering of men—and one woman—bust their tails in the sparse, no-nonsense gym that had nary a circuit training machine in sight amongst the free weights and pulleys and punching bags. Two men sparred inside the boxing ring. He busied himself watching them while he pondered what an idiot he’d been to cross the line and spy on Emily.
Thankfully, she’d never find out.
The rumble of a bus engine caught his attention and he looked down the street. As the bus pulled away from the curb, Emily came into view, walking in his direction on the sidewalk across the street three blocks down.
He jolted to his feet, cursing, his heart racing. He flung the truck door open and dove in. In all his idiocy, he hadn’t considered what he’d do if he saw her. For a man who prided himself on always having his shit together, he sure was spiraling into a reckless fool. Over a woman, of all the pedestrian reasons. Men only fell to pieces over women in fairy tales. Not in real life, and definitely not a man such as Knox. Even in high school and college, with his dangerous combination of immature teenage brain, surging testosterone, and insatiable sexual appetite, he’d chosen his girlfriends and bedmates prudently and had never spiraled out of control. Never.
Except that now, Emily was driving him to the brink of insanity. He’d entertained more foolish thoughts and crossed more ethical and moral lines in the past two weeks than the rest of his life.
He turned the key in the ignition, but all the engine did was click.
He threw his back against the seat and looked to the truck roof, as though Heaven itself were hovering over him like a cloud. “Really, Dad? Because she can’t catch me here, okay? Let me start the truck and get out of here.”
Holding his breath, he turned the key again. Click.
“Damn it, Dad. What do you want from me?”
He looked down the street. Emily was a block closer. Any moment, she’d spot him and then what? What could he say that wouldn’t make him seem like a creepy stalker?
Nothing, because that’s exactly what you are. Idiot.
So this was what it was like to hit rock bottom. He needed to remember the way this felt so he could never fall into the same well of shame again.
Closing his eyes, he gave the ignition one more try, praying as he turned the key. Nothing. When he opened his eyes again, the meathead who’d been standing behind the front desk at the gym was standing outside his door, now with a pair of dark sunglasses sitting atop a crooked nose that gave the impression he’d spent his fair share of time in the gym’s boxing ring. The embroidery on his gray polo shirt read Murph.
Tamping his impatience to have to field questions from a stranger when what he really needed to do was get the hell out of there, Knox rolled down the window. “Yes?”
“Sounds like you gotta problem with the truck,” Murph said in a pack-a-day New Jersey accent.
“It won’t turn over. Happens all the time.” At least, all the time since he’d moved to Dulcet.
“Let’s pop the hood and have a look.”
That seemed his only option at the moment. Perhaps if he had his head buried under the hood, Emily would walk right past without noticing. He popped the hood, then stepped out of the truck. “You’re Murph, the owner here?”
“That’s me. I saw you poking your eyes around the gym. You looking for someone in particular?”
Emily was closer, only a block away.
“I was, actually.” Because what was the harm in telling Murph about his misunderstanding? Surely the man had never heard of Emily.
Another pink-faced, no-neck meathead drifted out from the gym, this one sweating like a roasted pig and with dirty white bandages wrapped around his knuckles. “Is that an ’85 Chevy, there? I had one of those back in the day. Lemme take a look with you, Murph.”
“Thanks,” Knox said, glancing around. Emily had vanished. He felt his shoulders relax a little and drew a full breath for the first time since he’d turned down this street. “I’ve got some jumper cables in the back, if either of you could offer your battery.”
“Who’d you say you were here looking for?” Murph asked. “Either me or Big Tommy, here, probably knows the guy.”
“Actually, it’s a woman. I’m looking for Emily Ford.”
Murph stopped fiddling with the engine. He rose to his full height, a few inches taller than Knox’s six-one. Murph’s face was stone hard. He cracked his knuckles while sneering at Knox, a totally different man than the one who’d come to help him with his truck, a violent man. Whatever his opponents in the ring had done to his nose, Murph had messed them up exponentially more. “Who the fuck are you and what do you want with her?”