Dive

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Wisely, and slow. They stumble that run fast."—William Shakespeare

On Wednesday evening, I come home from work to the delicious aroma of spices and herbs drifting from the kitchen. Leaving my purse and heels in the foyer, I follow the smell.

I'm about to make a teasing comment about Lois's newfound skills in the international cuisine, but stop dead in the threshold when my gaze falls on Knox's imposing form standing in front of the island. I haven't seen him since Saturday when he dropped me off at home after our outing in Central Park.

After that kiss.

My heart starts galloping inside my chest like I've just run a marathon.

That afternoon, we didn't speak about the kiss on the way home. He was mostly quiet as he navigated the New York traffic, while I tried to make small talk about the shelter. When the car came to a stop in front of Amanda's building, we parted on a friendly, albeit a little awkward note.

And now, here we are, looking at each other from across the few feet separating us. He gives me a soft smile, both hands braced on the shiny top of the island. The sleeves of his light blue shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong muscles that flex with each small movement. A glass of wine idles beside his fingers, the condensation still fresh on the U-shaped bowl.

"Hey," he greets, pulling Amanda's attention my way.

She looks up from her phone and turns in her seat. "Oh, hey, Care."

"Hi." I smile and take a few steps closer, trying to act normal. Trying to act like his presence in this house isn't setting my skin ablaze. "Smells good. What are you making?"

"Chicken Biryani. You like it?"

"Never had it."

"There's a first time for everything." I feel the intimate familiarity dripping from his voice straight between my legs. The softness of his lips is still imprinted on mine, days later.

Knox's gaze drops to my wrist and lingers there. I realize that I'm wearing the watch he gifted me for my birthday. As I scan his face, something close to satisfaction flashes through his eyes.

I fight the urge to hide my wrist behind my back and head straight for the sink to wash my hands. I take my time, inhaling deeply while I'm at it and trying to get my racing heart to calm down.

Knox moves behind me, opening a cabinet and pulling out something. I dry my hands with a paper towel and turn around, only to find him waiting with a glass of white wine.

"Your favorite."

I try to fight a smile and fail. "I have a favorite?"

"It seems that you do. I've seen you drink this often enough."

My stomach tightens with a weird sensation. I had no idea he paid any attention to what I drank.

"Pour me some more, will you?" Amanda says, breaking the spell between us. I'm honestly amazed that she doesn't sense what's going on right now. She pushes her empty glass across the island, eyes still lowered to her phone.

Knox turns and grabs the bottle again, refilling her glass.

I sit down beside my friend on a high stool and take a sip from my own drink. It's crisp and cool with a hint of citrus—the same French wine he ordered for me when we first met. He is right. This might just be my favorite one to date.

"How was work?" Knox asks, his back turned to us as he checks on the food.

"The feedback for our new collection has been positive, which we are happy about. Sales are increasing."