Page 9 of Knox

In fact, the man was dangerously attractive.

He met her eyes, smiled.

She swallowed, and then, because they were in the sky, in the vault of darkness, above the pull of the earth, far enough away for even her demons to be quieted, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

He froze.

When she leaned away, he looked at her, his eyes wide. He blinked, and it seemed he held his breath.

“Thank you for…” She took a breath. “For being safe.”

He frowned but nodded.

The Ferris wheel brought them to the bottom, and she hopped off. Knox followed her, and they walked out to the edge of the carnival grounds, toward the path that led to the RVs and her tour bus. The lights shone out from her rig, evidence that at least one of the girls had returned.

She turned to Knox.

He smiled down at her.

Her hand twitched, and she longed to press it to his chest, wanting suddenly to feel the timbre of his heart.

“I don’t suppose…” he started.

She shook her head.

His mouth formed a tight line, and he drew in a breath. “It was nice to meet you Kelsey Jones.” It looked like he wanted to say something more. Even reach out to her. Instead he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Stay safe.”

“I promise,” she said.

He smiled, and she didn’t move as he left her there, disappearing into the chaos of the carnival crowd.

At least that’s what she was trying to do.

2

Pretty Kelsey thought he was old. And safe.

Knox couldn’t pry those two bullets from his brain as he stood in the private box overlooking the dusty arena where, in a few moments, Hot Pete would seal his deal with Rafe Noble and NBR-X.

Those days are gone. I’m too…

Old?

Thirty wasn’t exactly old, but sometimes he felt ancient, so much of his life undone. The conversation with Kelsey had kept him awake all night, and he’d finally got up and stood at the ninth-floor window of his Hyatt hotel room, staring down at the carnival lights in the distance. The RV park was dark, but she was tucked away in some trailer.

He couldn’t seem to shake her voice, or her smile, from his brain. The way the wind toyed with tendrils of her sable brown hair falling in tousles around her face. He’d wanted to reach out and run his fingers through it but made a point of keeping his hands to himself.

Especially after seeing the fear in her eyes when she’d stared him down in the stock barn. Jaw tight, ready, it seemed, to fight him.

It had unnerved him. That and her soft, almost apologetic,I sometimes panic about…I have issues—

He’d just had to save her, then. Maybe he didn’t want to know, but whatever had happened to cause her to run—no, flee—from the beer tent had tightened his gut.

He’d thought about that far too long last night.

He knew about fear. And running.

Thank you for being safe.