Page 67 of Fighting For You

I squeezed his hand and held on for the rest of the drive.

The following Saturday, I stood in front of the mirror in the dress I'd bought that week. Black, fitted, hem just above the knee. I'd spent longer than I wanted to admit picking it out. Knox had mentioned once that his mother was formal, and the word had stayed with me like a warning.

I smoothed the fabric over my hips and looked at myself. I hoped it was enough.

Two honks from outside.

I grabbed my purse, locked the door behind me, and went down the steps to Knox's truck.

He was wearing a black blazer over a white dress shirt, open at the collar, with dark trousers and clean shoes. His hair was pushed back, his jaw freshly shaved. I had seen Knox in turnout gear, T-shirts, and nothing at all, but I had never seen him like this. He looked like someone had taken the man I knew and sharpened every edge. I wanted to climb across the console and skip dinner entirely.

I climbed into the truck and pulled the door shut behind me. He smelled like cologne, something warm and clean that I'd never noticed on him before. I leaned across the console, took the collar of his blazer in my hand, and kissed him. His hand came up to my jaw and held me there, and I felt his mouth open against mine. I kissed him harder. My fingers slid from his collar to the back of his neck, and for a few seconds I forgot we had somewhere to be.

"You look so handsome."

Knox kissed the side of my neck, just below my ear, and stayed there for a second.

"You look beautiful." He kept his hand on my knee. "Can we just stay in the truck?"

"You said you can't ignore your mother anymore."

He groaned and kissed me again. Then he put the truck in drive.

Summerlin looked like a different city. The streets were wide and quiet, lined with mature trees and stone-front houses set back behind manicured lawns. Every property had landscaping that looked like someone was paid to maintain it. Tall hedges, flower beds in bloom, driveways that could fit three cars without crowding. Nothing was out of place.

"This is where you grew up?"

Knox glanced at the houses passing his window. "Yeah."

"Must have been a really good childhood."

"Not really."

He pulled up in front of a two-story house with a stone facade and a wide front porch. The lawn was pristine. Boxwood hedges ran along the walkway, trimmed level, and a pair of iron lanterns flanked the front door. Everything about it looked like it had been chosen carefully and maintained ever since.

Knox cut the engine. Neither of us moved.

"Ready?" he said.

I looked at the house. I looked at Knox.

"No."

He leaned over and kissed me.

"Okay," I said. "Let's go."

The front door opened before we made it up the steps.

"You must be Nora." Maureen Sullivan stepped out onto the porch and took both of my hands in hers. She was tall, elegant, silver-blond hair swept back, wearing a fitted navy dress and small pearl earrings. Her eyes were bright and already filling. "I have been waiting to meet you."

"It's so nice to meet you, Mrs. Sullivan."

"Maureen. Please." She squeezed my hands and turned to Knox. "She's beautiful, Knox."

"I know, Mom."

Maureen pulled him into a hug. He let her hold him, his hand resting briefly on her back before he stepped away.