Caleb glanced up from the grill. “That would be my boss’s son, Martin Ford. He’s a CPA. Laurel’s been trying to set them up for a while.” He took a pull from his beer and considered Knox. “Guess that’s not happening today.” He shrugged and leaned in conspiratorially to add, “Fine by me. The guy’s a prick.”
Knox nodded noncommittally, not voicing agreement but already disliking the guy just from the way he looked Briar up and down, openly assessing her in her floral print sundress like she was some buffet spread out before him. It wasn’t a flashy dress. It ended just at her knees, but Phone Man looked at her like she wasn’t wearing anything at all.
“Everyone knows it,” Caleb grumbled. “Except for my wife.” He shrugged and shot Knox a grin. “Whad’ya going to do, though?”
He nodded, fighting the urge to stay where he was and not act like a guy straight out of prison—-even if he was. This was a family barbecue. Briar’s family. He didn’t need to lose his shit and embarrass her.
“You like cheese on your burger?”
He dragged his attention away from Martin Ford, who stood with his hand on Briar’s shoulder, keeping it there longer than necessary. A CPA. He was wearing khaki slacks and an immaculately pressed plaid button--down. He looked like the kind of guy that would date a nice girl like Briar.
“Yeah, thanks,” he replied.
Caleb looked toward Briar and Martin and shook his head. “How about another beer, man?”
Knox exhaled, wondering how long he could stand by like it didn’t bother him that Briar was across the patio getting pawed by some guy handpicked by her sister. “Sounds good.”
Briar looked across the distance at him, her eyes full of apology. He nodded at her like none of it was a problem—-being here among these -people who lived their gingerbread lives in their gingerbread houses . . . her sister hating the sight of him. He tried to look like everything was going to be okay even though he was starting to wonder if that was true.
“I’VE BEEN HEARING about you for months,” Martin said as he swirled a carrot stick in some dip. Crunching down on it, his gaze drifted back to her face almost expectantly. Briar stared at him, unsure how to respond.
Laurel had disappeared after whispering in tight warning, “Talk to him. Don’t be rude.”
“We finally meet.” He rocked back on his heels, showing off crunchy bits of orange carrots coated in white dip in his mouth.
“Yes.” She nodded awkwardly, glancing over to where Knox stood chatting with Caleb. At least her brother--in--law was being a good guy and talking to him. Unlike her sister. Laurel was probably hiding all their valuables right now.
Martin nodded, bobbing his entire head and eyeing her. “So we should go out. You know, on a date. I know this place that makes the best enchiladas.”
“Uh—-”
“Oh, you’re serious about this guy you brought? Your sister said it wasn’t anything serious.”
She winced. Of course her sister would have told him that. “I’m not really interested in seeing -anyone—-”
“What’s he do?”
“Excuse me?”
“What’s he do?”
“For a living?” she asked.
“Yeah. Last year I cleared six figures. Bought a BMW. What’s he do?”
Oh, he was a definite prize. “I’m going to go now.” She started to turn away, but he grabbed her arm.
“Hey, I’m just kidding with you, don’t get your panties in a knot,” he cajoled. “Where’s your sense of humor? It’s called a joke.”
“Oh.” She laughed weakly.
He chuckled, still holding onto her arm.
“Hey, there.” Knox sidled up to her, slipping an arm around her waist. She practically sagged against him in her relief.
Martin looked him up and down. “Ah, is this him? The devil himself? Hi, there. I’m Martin. Looks like you beat me to the goal. I was supposed to go out with Brianna here.”
Knox reached out to shake his hand. “Her name is Briar.”
“Yeah. I said that.” He nodded, unfazed. “What’s your name, man?”
“Knox Callaghan.”
Martin held a hand up to his ear like he was imitating an old man with failing hearing. “Knox? What’s that? A nickname of some kind?”
Knox stared at him a moment before answering. “No. That’s my real name.”
“Huh.” Martin nodded as if that made sense. “Well, we were just talking about you.”
“Were you?” He glanced at Briar and then back to Martin.
“Yes, she was about to tell me what you do for a living . . . Knox.”
“I work at Roscoe’s.”
“Roscoe’s? That shithole outside town?” Martin took a deep swig of his beer.
Knox clenched his jaw, not answering.
“Yeah,” he continued. “I’ve driven by the place. Never went in, though. Figured I’d have to get my tetanus up--to--date first.” Chuckling, Martin dove a hand into a bowl of chips on the table.
“Asshole,” Briar bit out, not even caring that she had just called the guy her sister invited for her an asshole.
Laughing, Martin tossed some chips back into his mouth. “Hey, just kidding. You need to lighten up . . . You’re not offended, right?” He clapped Knox on the shoulder and jabbed a thumb at Briar. “A real firecracker, this one, huh? But you know what they say about girls with potty mouths . . .”