Page 91 of Knox
Happy. The guy looked downright happy.
And then there was Tate, who had gotten up to hand Glo a beautiful brown-crusted marshmallow, now sitting down on the peeled, smooth log next to her. Oh, the guy was so perfectly whipped for the tiny blonde, he practically wore his tough-guy heart on the outside of his body.
In truth, Tate’s actions in New York City had rattled Knox. But he didn’t want to dig too deep around Tate’s past. Especially since it seemed he wanted to leave it behind, start new.
Apparently, that was the theme of the night, with the appearance of their neighbor, Hardwin Colt. He’d simply come around back to the campfire pit about an hour ago, his hands shoved into his pockets, freshly shaved, and wearing a clean button-snap shirt. He wore a brown cowboy hat over his gray hair and a warm smile, especially when it landed on Knox’s mother.
Huh.
She introduced him around, and when Hardwin reached him, Knox met Hardwin’s eyes, studying him.
Hardwin didn’t flinch, just stood there.
Knox finally nodded. He said nothing when Hardwin went to sit by his mother. Nudged her, got her to laugh.
Wyatt and Ruby Jane sat together, and now Knox picked up snippets of their conversation.
“You were lousy in the game against the Bruins,” RJ said.
“Hey, that’s not all my fault. Rusk was trying to play goalie—he opened up holes and screened the shooters. They just need to stay in their lane, let me do my job. If I see the puck, I’ll stop it.”
Wyatt stuck a marshmallow on his stick, set it deep into the coals.
Knox’s gaze lifted to Kelsey, across the fire. She was gazing into the flames, the fire flickering in her beautiful eyes.
Please don’t leave me, Kels.
“Yeah, but that shootout! That was crazy.”
“People forget that I had thirty saves in that game.”
“And one that slipped through.”
“Oh, you’re brutal, RJ.”
Knox wanted to smile at their laughter, at the fact that in one moment, it all felt exactly how he wanted it to be. With a few gaps, of course.
Their dad would have been talking about setting fire to one of the fields, or repairs he needed to make to the house. Maybe telling the epic story about the time he rode rodeo, competing in roping and bull-riding events. Or worked as a smokejumper in Glacier.
He’d even played hockey. So much of their dad spread out amongst his sons.
Dad, I hope you’re proud of us.
Me. I hope you’re proud of me.
His mother made a sound of delight as she pulled out her cell phone. “It’s Ford! He’s video calling.”
Ford, you champ, you.
She answered, and Ford’s face filled the screen, just a gray wall behind him. “Hey, Ma, happy birthday.”
She held up the phone and ran her hand across her cheekbone. “Where are you calling from?”
“Aw, Ma, he can’t answer you,” Ruby Jane said. “Just tell us, are you hot or cold?”
He laughed, his pale green eyes shiny. He wore his hair shaved short under a blue cap. “Neither. I’m hungry!”
They laughed at the old joke. His mother caught him up on the festivities in the making—tonight’s campfire, tomorrow’s barbeque—Knox had spent the day hauling in charcoal to the barn and cleaning out the massive chuckwagon grill. Last time they’d used it might have been for a wedding they’d hosted a couple years ago.