3. Knox

Chapter Three

KNOX

C alled it.

I absolutely fucking called that shit.

When I got to my mother’s house, I immediately went over to inspect her tires—all four tires that were still full of air—but before I could call her out for lying, she came out of the house in a flurry of fabric and beads, hopped in my passenger seat, and slammed the door in my face.

Then she proceeded to talk my ear off about my baby brother, his wife, their pregnancy, and every other thing that’s happened to a Riley over the last few months, her non-stop chatter effectively preventing me from getting in one word on anything.

And when we parked in front of the sorry excuse for a massage parlor Ma is completely obsessed with, the same one she’s been riding my ass over trying out, the biggest fucking red flag imaginable went up, and I went on high alert.

“Hurry up!” Mom scolds as I slowly exit my Cadillac ATS. “We’re going to be late.”

And there it is.

We’re going to be late.

Not just her but both of us, and that has my suspicions all but confirmed.

Once again though, I love my mama, so I follow her into Happy Body, Happy Soul with a scowl on my face.

I have a funny feeling this isn’t an appointment for my mother, but for me, especially since she usually gets her massage or whatever on Fridays when she’s off work at the library. I should know, I’ve been paying for her to come to this hippy dippy whacko for almost three years now.

“Ma.” I grit my teeth and try not to lose my shit. “Ma, I thought?—”

“Well, look at that.” She ignores me as she spins around in the smallest fucking waiting room I’ve ever seen. “I hope I had the time right.”

“Ma. I thought you only came here?—”

“Hazel had an opening today, so I took it.” She waves a hand through the air dismissively. “I’m not sure where she is, though. She’s usually waiting right there,” Ma says as she points to the child-sized desk in the corner by a door. “Usually about five minutes prior to an appointment.”

Several things filter through my head after that comment.

My mother totally avoided answering my question by being vague enough to confirm this isn’t her appointment we’re here for.

The crackpot who runs this joint must be a pixie or a child based on that desk.

She doesn’t have anyone here to answer the phone, take appointments or greet her clients so she’s either broke, unprofessional as hell, or stingy to the point of cutting all corners.

And her name is Hazel .

Since she most likely isn’t time traveling from the 1930’s, Hazel is probably a crazy old bat with gray hair and false teeth conning other crazy old bats like my mother into paying her for incredibly unusual pain management techniques.

I mean, who the fuck offers PT and acupuncture in addition to hot stone massage and chiropractic adjustments? Is that shit even legal?

“Ma, look. If you’re trying to get me to make an appointment or some shit, it isn’t going to work. I don’t need it. I?—”

She reaches out and grabs my arm. “Let’s go check in the back.”

My mother starts dragging me, which is no easy feat, behind the desk and through the door before I have time to argue, and when she shuts it before sing-songing Hazel! Honey, we’re here! I’m actually a little surprised at what I see.

It’s not like I was expecting some shithole or anything, the outside is maintained nice enough and I’d never let my mama come here if I had real concerns, but I wasn’t really expecting this.

Dual-density fitness flooring like my gym.

Walls painted a tranquil sage-gray with various nicely framed prints of very zen scenes including traditional Buddha’s and rock gardens.

Natural light provided by several windows that are fogged for privacy instead of fluorescent fixtures.

A rolling table to the left when you first walk in, another chiropractors use to loosen the spine before an adjustment, the actual flexion table for those adjustments in the middle, and a massage table to the far right.

The space between the windows and tables has a few yoga mats laid out, meditation pillows scattered around the area with a small platform that has a ceremonial gong, decorative pillar candles and soothing incense burning from the mouth of a Fu dog.

Behind the tables is a row of cabinets, a mini fridge separating them, a coffee pot and electric kettle on the counter above it with a very eccentric looking mug collection and different boxes of herbal teas.

Except for a crock pot at one end and what appears to be an ultrasound machine at the other, the counters over the cabinets are decorated in a very serene way as well; more zen nick knacks and trinkets including one of those waving cats that you see at most Chinese restaurants, and a stone waterfall that’s just as relaxing as the music filtering in through the surround sound.

Well, I’ll be damned.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this really wasn’t it.

“Hazel?! Honey, are you here?”

“I’ll be right out!”

My head snaps toward a door I didn’t notice, one that apparently goes into a back room somewhere, my eyes narrowing on the ornate and vintage looking wood.

That does not sound like a crazy old bat.

That voice sounded like sex incarnate, to be perfectly honest, and definitely does not belong to an elderly woman trying to scam other elderly people.

Which means it belongs to a young woman trying to scam elderly people.

A young, tiny woman who better not look as hot as her voice sounds because that shit will piss me right off.

And just when I was starting to think this might be a semi-respectable business, too.

“Take your shoes off,” my mother whisper-shouts as she tugs my arm then uses it for support so she can take her sandals off. “Knox!”

“ Take my shoes off ? Why the fuck would I do that?”

Ma rolls her eyes then points her hippy sandals at me. “Because. This floor is expensive. Hazel had it installed to make it easier on us old fogies while we’re doing yoga or PT. It helps align the spine better.” Then she frowns. “All things you should know, Mr. MMA fighter.”

“You’re serious?”

Mom points her sandals at me again, then at my Nike’s and scowls.

“I’m not taking my goddamn shoes off. I’m not even staying. This is?—”

“I am so so sorry, Linda,” that sexy voice says as the back door opens. “I dumped essential oils all over my scrubs so I had to change, and then Boris started acting like an asshole for no reason, so I had to... oh...”

My heart stops mid-beat as the most beautiful sprite of a woman comes to a screeching halt about five feet away, wide grass green eyes blinking at us rapidly while small, delicate hands push wisps of raven colored hair from her face.

Wow .

Just, fucking wow.

She’s petite and tiny, willowy even.

Maybe five-three.

Ivory skin.

A rather athletic build with just a hint of curves. Like a runner.

But those eyes—fuck, those eyes are killer.

Grass green surrounded by pitch black lashes that are about three feet long, brows just as black but almost hidden under blunt bangs and a topknot I suddenly have the urge to take down in favor of wrapping those silky strands in my fist. Tugging the thick, fine pieces while I tip her head back and kiss those cherry red lips.

Which is wildly inappropriate since this drop-dead gorgeous woman is conning my mother out of two hours and $150 of my money a week.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.” She clears her throat and pries her eyes from mine so she can smile at my mother. And that smile is like goddamn lightning illuminating the entire fucking sky.

Why didn’t she smile at me ?

I shake that stupid thought from my head, open my mouth to tell this chick exactly what I think about making us wait, but as usual, Ma talks over me.

“No need to apologize, honey. I was just showing my son around.”

Liar .

“You weren’t waiting long, were you?” she asks as she tentatively walks over in dark blue crocs to match the dark blue... Jesus, she has elephants on her scrub top. “I hope not, I just didn’t want to overwhelm you with the mixed-up scent on my clothes. I know how sensitive you are to that sort of thing.”

Ma nudges my arm and nods. “No problem at all, dear. I appreciate that. My migraines are triggered so easily these days.”

The con artist smiles again and holy shit, I really want her to fucking smile at me but instead, when she finally meets my eyes again, all the color drains from her face and she looks ready to bolt. “H-Hazel Hollis.”

She offers me her hand and I just know if I take it, if I use my manners and put us skin to skin, it’ll open the door to all kinds of shit, so instead I cross my arms against my chest and grunt, “Knox Riley.”

Hazel swallows hard, drops her hand then rubs her palm against her thigh. “Right. Linda’s son.”

“Perceptive.”

Am I being a jackass? Absolutely, but I don’t trust this chick, nor do I trust myself around her. Con artist or not, I haven’t been this struck by a woman in years and the last time ended in borderline bankruptcy and heartbreak.

Both mine, thanks.

“Knox!” my mother hisses. “Hazel, I’m so sorry. Knox is a little grumpy this morning because he hasn’t had his coffee yet.” Then she mumbles, “And he forgot to remove the stick from up his ass before we left my house.”

“I just made a fresh pot.” Hazel looks at my mother instead of me. “You’re more than welcome to help yourself. It’s pretty strong but I have?—”

“Are you even old enough to run this place?”

Hazel’s eyes dart to mine and pin me with a gorgeous, albeit terrified, deer in headlights look. “E-excuse me?”

I jut my chin out as I widen my stance. “You heard me. What kind of credentials do you have? You look like you’re barely out of high school.”

“Knox Liam Riley!” Ma slaps me with her sandals. “I raised you better than?—”

“Thirty-five,” Hazel says firmly but wavers the second I narrow my eyes. “I’m thirty-five.”

I smirk. “Got proof?”

“W-what?”

“Proof.” I lean down toward her a little. “Driver’s license? Diploma? Passport? Something to prove your age.”

She looks between me and my extremely pissed off mother then shakes her head. “I don’t have to prove anything to you. Look, Linda, I appreciate what you said yesterday but I don’t think this is going to work. I can’t help someone who doesn’t want the help, and quite honestly?—”

I scoff. “That’s what I thought. No one’s ever called you out on your scam before and now you’re back-tracking, right?”

Hazel blinks at me a few times, her cherry lips parted before the most stunning scowl I have ever seen graces her features. She spins on her heel and marches toward the door she just came through and even though I should feel some satisfaction from calling her on her bullshit, I feel like total dog shit instead.

“Oh. My. God!” Ma smacks me several more times with her sandals. “I cannot believe you! Hazel is one of the sweetest, most caring people I have ever met, and you just shit all over her for no reason.”

I just shrug and force a smug grin.

I did.

I shit all over that girl for no reason, proving I really am a miserable prick, but what’s done is done, and we’ll both be better for it.

Right ?

“You know she only charges one hundred and fifty dollars for two hours?!” My enraged mother whisper-yells. “Only one hundred and fifty dollars for a full body, deep tissue massage, cupping therapy, an adjustment, and a relaxation yoga session?”

“What?” I blink. “That can’t be true.”

“It is, you jackass! Hazel basically gives me the works while I’m here and she could charge ten times that based on quality alone, but she doesn’t because she’s a good damn person and she just wants people to feel better both physically and mentally.” Ma crosses her arms and stares daggers at me. “I am so disappointed in you, Knox Riley. So very disappointed. When we get?—”

The back door swings open again and this time when Hazel marches toward us, there’s a fire in her gorgeous green eyes that has my dick twitching in my basketball shorts.

She stomps right up to me, shoves a stack of papers in my hands then takes a step back, nods toward it and plants her hands on her hips. “There.”

“There?” I frown.

“Your proof. You wanted proof that I’m not some scamming teenager and there it is.”

A driver’s license that clearly states Hazel Ruth Hollis was born in July a couple years behind me.

A diploma from Jupiter Community High School, also a couple years behind me.

A Doctor of Chiropractic degree as well as a Doctor of Physical Therapy degree, both from Florida University, with specialties in sports medicine and traumatic injuries.

Licenses for both of those as well as one in massage therapy, all valid to practice in the state of Florida, and a slew of other certificates in various other things. Hell, she even brought out her certificate in CPR/First Aid and AED on adults, children and infants, and the deed to the building we’re standing in.

I really am a miserable prick.

“Hazel...” I sigh, totally defeated and ready to eat crow. “I?—”

She yanks the papers from my hands and looks up at me with angry, watery eyes. “I hope that suffices. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Hazel takes a step back then looks at my now angry and impressed mother. “I have an appointment at twelve thirty I need to get ready for. If you don’t mind showing yourselves out, I’d appreciate it. I’ll see you Friday, Linda.” Then she turns and disappears so fast I almost miss the way her shoulders shake when her back is to us.

Fuck .

Fuck me running, man.

I just made the most beautiful woman I have ever seen cry, and have no idea how to fix it.