Taste of Commitment (Whisky and Risky #2)

18. Knox

Knox

“Up, up, up. Nice. Rack it.” Nolan steps out from under his barbell, flicking his belt buckle with one hand. “Was that a new PR?”

“By four and a half kilos.” He drops his ear to his shoulder with a ‘no-big-deal’ type of smile, but inside I know he’s beaming.

“Hell yeah, buddy.” I lift my hand for a high-five and his closed-lip smile spreads into an all-out grin. “Mega job, mate.”

His hand smacks into mine, transferring a spark of pride through my veins.

This team has put in an incredible amount of work over the last week. I don’t know what I was expecting when I decided to work with a bunch of teenagers, but they’ve far exceeded my expectations. They talk a lot between sets, or while warming up, but it reminds me that they all have lives outside of this weight room. I’ve given up everything over the years to make sure that all my goals were met when it comes to this sport. Oftentimes, I felt like I was sacrificing more than others around me at best and more than was necessary at worst. Their goals will likely change over the years, especially if any of them choose to go pro, but for right now, they're already in a better spot than I was.

Ronan Berkley works tirelessly on his sets in the corner. Out of everyone on this team, he reminds me most of myself. I like to think I was a little more fun and a little less doom and gloom, but his focus is borderline psychotic. Just like me.

He hasn’t said a word to me since that first practice, and the only time I’ve spoken to him is when I’m shouting drills or plays at him. I was starting to think it was a personal problem he had against me, but he seems more pissed off than usual today and I haven’t said shit to him.

I sit on the bench across from where he’s working on a heavy set of deadlifts. He lets the barbell drop with an echoing thud and even though I know he can see me, he doesn’t acknowledge me.

“You good?”

He points to his headphones shaking his head. Little shit.

“I said, are you good?” I enunciate my words and shout a little louder than necessary.

“Sorry mate, can’t hear you.”

My jaw clenches but I can’t even get mad. I have a feeling I was just as annoying at his age. I give him a tight smile and a mock salute and leave him to do his work in peace.

“Don't feel bad Coach, he doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“He talks to Riley,” Brody pipes up from the bench.

“Barely,” Nolan huffs. “That’s why she’s always so pissed at him.”

“Who’s Riley?” I ask.

“His girlfriend.”

“Probably not for much longer.” Nolan shakes his head. “The guy doesn’t do anything but play rugby and train. We all used to be best mates but he never hangs out anymore, he’s too busy training,” he says the last word with finger quotes. “Even when we’re not at practice.”

Yup. Just like me.

The Saloon is already half full when I walk in at six p.m. but I find an open seat at the bar and order a drink from someone I haven’t met before because my best mate is down at the other end flirting with my physical therapist. He pushes off the bar when he notices me and wiggles his pierced eyebrow as he makes his way over.

“I’m guessing by your expression, you conned her into thinking you're not the worst?”

“Ha ha,” he fake laughs while flipping me his middle finger. “She’s my date for the wedding.”

“Bold move.” I lift my pint to him.

“At least I have a date.” Out of the corner of my eye, strands of golden silk float in the breeze and I glance out the window just in time to find Taylor walking by the bar. She stops on the sidewalk when she notices me, quirks a brow, and then pulls open the door.

“Funny enough, mine just walked in.”

Heads turn and eyes appreciate Taylor as she makes her way through the bar, but her eyes are only on me.

“Is this seat taken?” She smiles, laying down a garment bag.

“The third member of our boy band was supposed to meet us, but he’s always late so hop on up, Tater Tot.” Liam pats the bar top next to me and Taylor laughs, sliding onto the stool .

I shouldn’t feel so possessive over a laugh but I find myself clenching the neck of my bottle a little too tightly at the idea of Liam getting to enjoy it the way I do.

“Nice to see you again, Liam.”

“No, no.” He grins, taking her hand in his and kissing the top of it. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Alright Romeo, relax.” I shove his chest and he heads back down the bar, leaving a trail of laughter behind. I try to roll my eyes, attempting to play it off but the sight of his lips on her skin pulls at my gut.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without all your fans crowding you,” Taylor says, waving a perfectly polished hand around us. I force a smile, spinning my beer bottle between my fingers. Condensation drips down the glass, pooling on the bar and I absently draw in the liquid. “What’s up?”

I turn my attention back to Taylor, and her eyes bounce back and forth between mine. I pull my hat off, run my fingers through my hair, and exhale a tired breath before setting it back down. “Nothing. It’s just weird sometimes.”

“The fan fair?” she asks while reaching over and grabbing my drink.

“When I left, I never thought twice about coming back, or what it would be like. And now that I am?—”

“Everyone treats you like you’re on this pedestal.” I clear my throat, not trusting my voice, and instead offer a nod. “As they should, Browning! You scored a record-breaking fifteen tries in your last World Cup and led your team to three back-to-back World Championships. That’s never been done before, of course, people are proud of you.”

She drops one hand to my shoulder and waves the other one around with an open palm.

“You’ve been Googling me, Nova girl?” She rolls her eyes, drops her hand, and grabs my beer. The rim of the bottle sits on her plump bottom lip as she takes a long pull.

“So, what’s the problem? You went off and had an incredible career and now you’re back, and your town has a champion amongst them.”

“The thing is, they’ve all stayed, and they are not just going through the motions but they’re growing—thriving, even.” I had tunnel vision for the goals I wanted. The entire time I was gone I never had a serious relationship, or developed deep friendships. I didn’t have anything outside of training. I always thought once I reached my goals, once I hit the level I wanted to hit, those things would always be there. The problem was that there were always higher goals to hit once I achieved something I had aimed for. Then I’d spend time working on reaching those new goals, and then even more time passed. No one was waiting around. Everyone else was living their lives while I gave up everything for a sport that I hadn’t realized may not be around forever. “And now I’m back after a career-ending injury, and what do I have to show for myself? They might see me as this all-star now, but when the novelty wears off, they’ll see me for what I am.”

“And what do you think that is?”

“Nothing.” I look at her now, the corners of her lips turned down and I can’t believe I said that out loud. I try to shrug it off but her hand finds my thigh in a tight squeeze.

“Knox, that’s not?—”

“Never mind.” I shake my head, not wanting to be this damper around her. Taylor is sexy and fun, and she’s here on vacation. She doesn’t deserve to have to sit through my bullshit. She’s here for an adventure and a good time. That’s something I can deliver for her. “What’d you pick out for me?”

I wiggle my eyebrows, jerking my chin to the black plastic bag draped behind her. She eyes me cautiously as if she’s trying to decide whether to let the conversation go or not. I reach forward to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, rolling the end of it between my fingers, and the distraction works. Her chest rises higher and her mouth parts. “What do you got, Nova?”

“It’s not for you, so don’t worry about it,” she whispers.

“Why do you keep trying to lie to us both?” She ignores me, pulling back and looking down the bar. “True or False? It’s a dress.”

She slowly faces me, her eyebrow quirking up with the corner of her lips, likely recalling where this game ended the other night.

“True.” I lift my drink to my mouth where the faintest trace of her lips are left around the rim and I welcome it, letting the taste drift through me.

“For the wedding?” I ask, handing the bottle back to her.

“Mmm.” The column of her throat moves up and down and I have to drag my palm down my face, letting my jaw hang open. “You going with me?”

“Like a date?”

“I’m glad you’ve finally agreed.”

“That wasn’t me agreeing.” She shakes her head with a taunting smile. “I was asking.”

I grip the seat of her stool and her lips part when I drag the metal legs across the floor, close enough that she’s practically in my lap.

“Yeah, Nova. Like a date.” Her head tilts to the side and her finger taps her pursed lips. “Keep it up, love, and I’m gonna bite that little finger.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” she taunts.

“It could be a promise, would you prefer that? ”

She sucks in her cheeks, hiding that perfect smile from me, her eyes narrowing into tiny slits.

“I prefer to go to weddings solo,” she says, hopping from her stool and grabbing her bag. The hairs on my neck stand straight up when she presses her cheek to mine, her breath a warm whisper in my ear. “You never know who you might run into.”

I swear a growl rumbles from the back of my throat but simmers when the lightest touch of her lips graze the shell of my ear.

“And, true. I do like a little biting.”

I close my eyes, inhaling her scent and when I open them again she’s halfway to the door.