Knox POV
I park the bike outside the restaurant and swing my leg over, standing for a moment as I glance toward the sidewalk. Every instinct in me wants to stay out here, eyes on the street, waiting for her. But I know her. If she catches me lingering like some overprotective guard dog, she’ll think I doubted her. And tonight of all nights, I won’t let her think that. So, instead of pacing like I want to, I force myself to step inside the restaurant, pushing the door open and moving toward the far end where I can keep an eye on both the front windows and the door.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I check the time. Eight minutes. That’s all she’s got before I’m back on that bike, tearing down the street to find her.
A voice cuts through my thoughts, low and rough from years of smoke and
