Knox by Susan May Warren

Author:Susan May Warren
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SDG Publishing

8

So, Tate might be taking his job description a little too seriously.

Because if Kelsey was safe with anyone on the entire planet, it was Knox. The bad boy Marshall genes simply didn’t run through Knox the Sainted.

Even his infamous debacle with Chelsea had been mostly about his good heart. That, and yes, pure teenage boy who’d been seduced by a girl who couldn’t be trusted. But Knox blamed himself, completely.

And it clearly didn’t take much to stir up the guilt of that disaster.

Tate stood at the kitchen sink, downing a glass of cold water, trying to screw up the courage to head upstairs and let Knox take a swing at him if he wanted.

Because maybe Tate deserved that. The beer had gone to his head, perhaps a little, because in his right mind…

Frankly, he’d been fighting to keep a hold of his right mind all night. It didn’t help that Glo had picked a sexy little white V-necked top that accentuated her curves, paired it with her faded jeans, her hair in crazy, fun tousles all over her head, the kind of mess he sort of wanted to dig his fingers into.

And then there was the way she looked at him, her arms hooked around his neck when they danced. Like if he wanted to lean down and kiss her, she wouldn’t call him any names.

Or, if she did, he might actually like them.

It was all he could do to keep his brain latched around the fact that she was his boss.

Sorta. Because Carter had done the actual hiring.

Still. Off-limits.

Off. Limits.

And maybe it burned him a little—no, a lot, a full-out inferno—that Knox could kiss Kelsey, or more, or whatever happened out in the parking lot to leave Kelsey so undone, without losing his livelihood.

It went straight to his brain. Jealously, frustration, not a little unrequited desire, and it all boiled out of Tate, all over Knox.

He could hardly believe he’d nearly decked his brother because Tate had turned into a lovesick sot. Not love…but yeah, Glo had his number, and he needed to keep his distance if he hoped to not screw up the good gig he had going with the Belles.

He definitely owed Knox an apology.

Tate finished his drink. Took a breath.

Headed upstairs.

Knox’s room was at the top of the stairs, right next to the one Tate had shared with Wyatt and Ford, and two doors down from the girls’ room.

He knocked. Braced his hand on the frame. “Knox, open up.”

Silence, then the sound of the closet closing and finally, steps to the door.

Tate straightened as Knox opened it.

His big brother considered Tate a long moment, his eyes dark and still simmering.

“Can we talk?” Tate asked quietly.

Knox stood in silence before he stepped aside.

Tate entered the room. Knox hadn’t changed out of his black button-down shirt and jeans, apparently not quite ready to go to bed. Now, he folded his hands over his chest, which Tate considered a good thing because that meant he wasn’t going to punch him.

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