Page 135 of Faking Forever
The house was ablaze with light, and the driveway was full of cars.
What the fuck?
Was Kenna having a party?
Smith parked his Land Rover behind a black Mercedes SUV and only after he grabbed his bag from the back, and caught a whiff of cigarette smoke, did he realize that there was a someone lurking in the garden, having a smoke.
“Evening,” a deep voice rumbled from the darkness. Smith peered into the shadows and could just make out the familiar face.
Cade’s personal protection guy.
Ah, fuck.
It looked like the in-laws were here.
Allof them, if the number of cars in the driveway was any indication.
Shit.
“Hey,” he greeted the bodyguard, then jerked his head toward the house. “How long they been here?”
The man shrugged. “Couple of hours.”
“You okay out here? Need anything to eat or drink?”
“Ms. Jenson took care of that. I ate in the kitchen with the housekeeper. Popped out here for a smoke.”
“Right,” he muttered, then sighed.
Might as well get this over with. He tossed his rucksack over his shoulder and threw back his shoulders, bracing himself for what was to come.
They were all gathered in the living room, and didn’t spot Smith right away. His gaze swept around the room, noting the balloons, the discarded wrapping paper, the massive birthday cake, the incongruous Birthday Boyparty hat on his formidable father-in-law’s salt-and-pepper head.
He was crashing the old man’s birthday party.
Just. Fucking. Perfect.
Kenny wasn’t there.
Every other fucking Hawthorne under the sun was in his house, but hiswifewas nowhere to be seen.
Nox looked up and tensed when he spotted Smith in the doorway.
“What the fuck areyoudoing here?” His angry demand cut across the laughter and overlapping chatter, silencing everyone. They all turned to face him, the women’s eyes going wide, and the men all bristling.
Smith placed his bag on the floor against the wall and stepped farther into the room.
“This is my house,” he replied, rolling his shoulders tiredly. “I live here.”
“Last we heard, you’d left,” Cade pointed out laconically, folding his arms over his chest. He had a look of extreme distaste on his face, as if he’d stepped in some shit and couldn’t quite figure out how to scrape it off his shoe.
“Fuck, I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look worse than Nox does right now, but here we are,” Gideon breathed, his amused but contemptuous gaze raking over Smith in disdain.
Smith was well aware he looked awful. He hadn’t shaved since he’d gone camping with Kenna a week ago. His hair needed trimming, and his clothes were sweat-stained, grease-streaked, and grimy.
And he was absolutely knackered.
After wrapping up his business in Riversend, he’d finally left at noon, and had been on the road for seven hours—eight ifone included the annoying stop in the middle to change a punctured tire.
