Page 60 of Faking Forever
God, he hated these conflicting emotions. And mixed into everything, there were other, more disturbing emotions at play.
She seemedlooser, more relaxed. As he’d told her the other night, he’d never seen her less than immaculate throughout the entirety of their relationship. But since arriving here, she’d been a total mess. Both emotionallyandphysically. And it had been an appealing departure from the rigid, tense, always perfect woman he’d married a year and half ago.
From the moment he’d first found her on that long-abandoned road, all dusty and sweaty, Smith had found himself distracted by her messy hair, mud-streaked face, and most of all, the length of her toned legs in those tiny shorts.
Since being here, her hair had been mostly loose instead of tightly pulled into an elaborate style. Her usually flawlessly made-up face was bare and freckled and sunburnt. Gone were her beautiful designer suits. Instead she’d been slouching around in leggings, T-shirts, baggy shorts, all items he would never have guessed she owned.
If pressed to describe his wife before, he would have used words likebeautiful, flawless,andunattainable.
Butcutewas the only word that came to mind when he thought of the Kenna who’d arrived in town two days ago.
Cute and—in his stolen clothes—downright fucking adorable.
And that irritated the ever-loving shit out of him.
Because, recent appearances notwithstanding, she was the same woman.
And he was really okay with that.
He didn’t want her to change anything about herself. He’d never expected that of her.
He like the way she looked, admired the way she carried herself. He’d always been proud of her poise. He just wished she’d allowed him to see and get to know thisotherversion of her as well. He hadn’t known cute, adorable Kenna even existed before her arrival here.
He shook his head impatiently, cursing beneath his breath as he hopped into the cab of his Land Rover.
What did it matter? Constantly mulling over this shit was counterproductive. He needed to get his head out of his arse and figure out how to put her out of his mind.
Once and for all.
“What are you doing here?”
Kenny sighed.
This again.
Was he going to ask her the same damned question cloaked in different shades of accusation whenever he randomly ran into her around town?
That was going to get old really,reallyfast.
“Having breakfast,” Kenny murmured.
She half turned in her chair to gaze up at Smith, who was glaring at her like she’d just robbed the bank that held his retirement fund.
He was wearing the same faded jeans he’d been in the last time she saw him three days ago. This time he paired them with a dark blue button-down shirt. His hair had been brushed back and sprang from his forehead in a thick natural wave that her fingers itched to run their way through.
“At MJ’s?”
Was he upset that she’d chosen his sister’s restaurant? Was it off-limits? Should she have known that?
MJ’s was the only decent restaurant in town. The one other eatery was a pub that only had a very basic menu.
“I’ve never been here before,” she confessed.
“I’m aware.” His voice was neutral but Kenny sensed something in that noncommittal reply.
He shocked the hell out of her by unexpectedly taking the seat on the other side of her small round table.
Her defenses went up. “Not because I didn’t want to. I just never had?—”
