“Oh, nothing much. We’re just looking for some herbs my dad wanted us to pick up.”
We. Us. Crap! “Oh okay. I’m looking for some plants too.” Real sharp, Rowan. You’re in a frickin’ nursery. “I mean there’s some okra plants I want for our garden.” As nonchalantly as I can, I peek around him, looking to see who makes us we. No way am I asking him.
He frowns, pulling his eyebrows together, placing his hands on his hips. “I don’t think I’ve had okra. I’ve definitely never cooked with it?” He puts a question mark on the end of his sentence even though he isn’t actually asking a question. An irritating habit of his I thankfully only had to endure sparingly over the four years I spent with his brother in culinary school. If that was all I’d had to endure from the Everhearts…
“Considering you’re a pastry chef, I wouldn’t imagine you have.” I smirk and glance at my Fitbit for the time, hoping to move along before another less-savory Everheart shows up.
“That’s a good point. Definitely more up Knox’s alley.”
“What’s up my alley?”
And there he is. Knox Asshat Everheart, fresh out of the oven, ready to eat. Fucker.
“Rowan.”
“Knox.”
Why couldn’t it have been obstinate Declan? I would’ve even settled for the old man with his prickly self even though I see enough of him at quarterly culinary school alumni meetings.
Knox looks at his brother and asks again, “What’s up my alley? My ears were burning.” He crumples the bag of potato chips he was eating and pulls out a stick of gum. For such a talented chef, I don’t understand how his palate can tolerate so much junk food. All during college, it was either packaged donuts, candy bars, chips, or whatever else he could get his hands on from the vending machines.
Weston hesitates, placing his hands in the pockets of his chino shorts. “You guys aren’t going to fight, are you?”
I laugh and turn toward the seasonal vegetable plants. “Not even worth my time, Weston. See ya.” Before I walk away, Knox’s eye color doesn’t escape me. Aqua. He’s in a social mood, not angry. Weston needn’t have bothered worrying.
I make it about five steps before Knox’s heavy footfalls mask mine. “I think you dropped something.”
I turn in time to see him pull a star-shaped ornament out of the pocket of his khaki shorts. A Michelin star. My face falls in spite of myself.
He grins. “Oh wait, sorry. This is mine.” His eyes have turned cornflower blue. Knox is petty as fuck.
My icy voice forms a retort. “It’s your dad’s, and if you ever make head chef, he won’t have that for very long.”
He shrugs and puts the symbol back in his pocket. “Come on, Amber, I’m only kidding around.”
Through tight lips, I barely grunt out, “Stop calling me that.”
Knox isn’t usually a close-talker like my brother, but he saunters right up to me and stops, stance wide, and bends his six-foot-two frame over so our faces are aligned. The smell of his gum climbs up my nose.
I don’t even flinch. Or take another breath.
“Let’s be friends. Put everything behind us.”
The sincerity in his voice doesn’t matter to me. “The day I become your friend, Knox Everheart, will be the day I’ve lost the last bit of my mind.” I arch my eyebrows, daring him to come with the snark.
Instead, he stands tall, pushing his sturdy chest out. “That’s a shame, Amber.” He winks and reverses course, heading back to his brother.
And just like that, Knox Everheart has ruined my day off, just like he ruined my entire college career.
*
As I check out with my wheelbarrow full of okra, tomato, pepper, and black-eyed peas plants, I glance around to ensure there are no Everhearts close by. I push the cart toward my car, but it’s wobbly with such a heavy burden. I came here for okra and ended up buying the whole nursery. We’ve already planted peppers and tomatoes, but it can’t hurt to have more, especially since business has been booming and we use so many of them in our cooking.
I get about halfway to my car when the wheelbarrow tumbles over, spilling dirt and greenery everywhere. I look up at the heavens and close my eyes. No sense standing here pouting—these plants aren’t going to magically jump back in the cart. Only, when I open my eyes, some have been carefully placed back inside. Knox is on his bare knees. Helping me.
No. Not today, Satan. “Thanks, but I got it.” I bend down on the concrete and grab a handful of soil, knocking his hands away. “You’ll scab your knees. Do you seriously think it’s warm enough to wear shorts?”
He sits back on his heels and stares at me. “Seriously? Yeah, I think so.” He gestures around with his hands.
I look where’s he’s pointing. Every white man in the place is wearing shorts. There’re only a couple Black people, and they’re all in long pants and shirts, just like me. All I can do is shake my head. I look right at Knox then. His inky-black hair is cropped close, more wavy than curly now. Nothing like when we were in college and he’d get chewed out by our professors for getting strands of hair in the food. I shiver. It was gross then and still gross today when I think of it. Thankfully he started covering it after the first few times.
I continue picking up my spilled plants.
“Hey, I was sorry to hear about your mom.” His voice is soft with concern.
“My mom’s fine.” I blow out a hard breath and face him. “How did you hear about my mom?”
He shrugs and stands. “My dad mentioned she was sick. I’m glad she’s doing well.”
For two families who want nothing to do with each other, we sure are up in each other’s business a lot. Too
