Page 71 of Faking Forever
“Kenna…” Her name was a drawn-out whisper of regret and she nodded.
She already knew what he was about to say.
As she released her hold on his hand, a tear slipped down her cheek and dropped into his palm. His long fingers closed around the moisture.
“Don’t cry,” he pleaded, his other thumb finding a secondtear and swiping it away with a gentle roughness that matched his voice.
“I’m sorry you were hurt,” she said, uncertain if she was apologizing because of the physical wound, or for all the other emotional wounds she’d inflicted over the past year and half.
She inched back in her seat, putting the tiniest bit of distance between them, enough for him to remove his hand from her face. Leaving her cold and bereft.
“Thank you again,” she said, blindly reaching for the door handle behind her. “For the ride.”
She found the handle and at the last possible second, turned away from him to open the door. She was out of the car before he could react.
She opened the back door to retrieve her cane seconds later.
Smith, caught off guard by her swift actions, was fumbling with the handle. Knowing that he would insist on walking her to the door, Kenny sharply called his name, halting his movements. His head lifted to meet her eyes through the open window of the passenger door.
“Smith, just leave. This is all too confusing.”
His jaw tightened and he looked set to argue.
“Please.” The word emerged on a raw whisper and the wind left his sails in one, heavy exhalation.
“Take care of yourself, Kenna.”
She stepped away from the vehicle and he watched her slowly make her way up the porch steps and to the front door. But he thankfully respected her request and remained in the car.
He drove away only after she’d unlocked the front door andstepped inside.
“Here’s the deal, okay? We don’t look at them, talk to them, smile at them, wave at them, or in any way, shape, or form acknowledge them. At all. They. Do. Not. Exist. Are we clear?” The woman speaking—a pretty, slender brunette—had a stern, no-nonsense tone of voice and was, quite frankly, a little scary. Which said a lot, because Kenny, who was rather proud of her own workplace boss bitch energy, didn’t scare easily.
The woman—Daffodil Carlisle—was referring to the group of men gathered around the pool tables at the other end of Ralphie’spub.
“Daff, you go over these rules every time we come here. I think we all get it by now,” a drop-dead gorgeous mixed-race woman with sleek black hair retorted, raising her voice to be heard over the noise of the pub.
“Doyou, Charity?” Daff responded tartly. “Do youreally? Because we all remember the time I caught you snogging Miles in front of the ladies’ restroom.”
“A lapse,” Charity said with an airy wave of her hand. “And I’ve already apologized for breaking one of your sacrosanct ladies’ night rules. I don’t see why we have to keep rehashing my momentary weakness. The man looks great in jeans. I couldn’t help myself.”
“The rules bear repeating,” Daffodil insisted primly. “Especially since we have a new member in our midst.”
She pointed at Kenny, who flushed uncomfortably.
“I won’t talk to them,” she promised. “I barely know any of them.”
Well, that wasn’t strictly true. But the one shedidknow would be spending the evening studiously ignoring her. And vice versa.
She eyed the group of tall, good-looking guys again. There was an inordinate amount of attractive people in this town. Was there something in the water here? There were—as far as she knew, thanks to Tina’s gossipy intel at the start of theevening—two sets of brothers in the group. Tina’s own husband, Harris, was a twin.
The shared DNA among some of them explained the good looks, but the remaining two men in the group were also very attractive.
And then there was the seventh.
Smith.
She hadn’t expected to see him here tonight. But of course, if all his friends were here, it wouldn’t be fair to expect him to stay away just because Kenny happened to be here too.
