“Our home. Our beautiful home. Who would do something like this?” Roanne gasped out.
Kenna was shaking, and any second now, she would burst into hysterical laughter. He covered her mouth with his hands, was once again struck dumb by the softness of her skin...the heat... This close, he could smell the strawberries in her hair, stronger than before. Would she taste just as sweet?
A mother. My stepsister. Off-limits.
But he was hardening against her. Could she feel him? He wanted her to feel him.
No, no, he didn’t. With a muttered curse, he shifted his hips away from her.
“Do you think everyone hates me?” Roanne asked, tears now in her voice.
“Of course not. Everyone loves you, darlin’,” Thomas assured her. “You know teenagers. Always playing pranks.”
The rest of his father’s reply was muffled as the two walked back inside the house.
Dane removed his hand and stared down at Kenna, who made no move to rise. Her amusement was gone, sadness in its place.
“Feeling sorry for her? Oh, honey. I’ve told you that you forgive way too easily, right?” he asked, and sighed. He smoothed a lock of hair from her cheek, let his thumb wander along the line of her jaw. A tremor shook her.
“She sometimes hurts my feelings, yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to hurt hers.” She reached up, hesitated for several heartbeats of time. When he made no move to turn away, she traced her fingertips over his right cheek.
He never let women touch him there. But Kenna had seen the scars in all their awful glory, and knew to expect the slightly raised flesh. He actually leaned into her touch, luxuriating in the feel of her. So soft. So gentle.
So damned perfect.
How had he lived without this?
“What is it we’re doing here?” she asked, a catch in her voice.
“Being friends,” he rasped, but that wasn’t exactly the truth. “Now, let’s get out of here.” Before he did something epically stupid.
CHAPTER SIX
KENNA WAS CONFUSED. In the week that followed the TP’ing of Mr. Michaelson’s house, Dane made no contact with her. He hadn’t even come back to town, choosing instead to remain in the city. At least, that was her guess. Sure, he could have been called away on business, but wouldn’t he have texted her if that had been the case? He’d said he wanted to help her with her list. All of her list. So why the disconnect?
She constantly changed her mind about whether or not she should text him. But what would she say? Yo, yo, yo, U interested or not?
Am I sixteen?
Or what about, U will help me w/ the fun list as promised.
Am I a dominant, and he my submissive?
Gah!
He’d almost kissed her. She knew that. And she’d wanted him to do it. Had wanted it so badly. Her body had ached for it, just as his clearly had. After he’d covered her mouth with his hand, she’d felt him grow hard against her thigh.
Why hadn’t he done anything about it?
Her first sexual experience was one she couldn’t remember—didn’t want to remember. And though the few times she’d been with Paul had been good, and there had been many nights since their split that she’d missed the feel of a man’s arms, her desire for Dane went far beyond that. She craved him specifically.
Can’t give in. After Paul, she’d decided to wait for love. If she was going to risk another walk of shame and years of gossip, not to mention a father figure in Norrie’s life, it had to be worth it. Sex had to mean something, not just to her but to the man she was trusting with her body and her reputation. And okay, yes, that made her an oddity in today’s society, but she didn’t care.
She wasn’t in love with Dane, but all the ingredients were there. She could fall. Hard. Perhaps the distance he’d put between them was for the best.
“Hate to break it to you, mate, but Dane Michaelson is seated in your section,” Brook Lynn said when she reached Kenna at the soda fountain.
Kenna and Brook Lynn had decided today was the day they would speak with an accent, and though Mr. Calbert had complained, repeatedly, they hadn’t stopped. And wouldn’t. Not for any reason. Brook Lynn sounded Australian, and Kenna sounded English...sort of.
Her stomach twisted into a thousand little knots. Dane had decided to come here? Really? Today of all days?
“Thanks for the heads-up, dearie.” She finished filling the plastic cups with the appropriate beverages, kissed Brook Lynn on the cheek and carried her burden to a family of four. She scanned the six tables in her corner of Two Farms.
When she spotted Dane, she froze, liquid sloshing over the rim of the cups. He’d brought a date. A beauty with a short cap of blond hair, and the slender build of a runway model.
The knots in Kenna’s stomach began to leak acid.
What did I expect?
Whatever. It didn’t matter. Kenna pawned off the drinks and though she would have rather eaten rusty nails, made her way to his table. He wore a black suit, and an ice-blue tie. The blank mask he’d worn the last time he was here, when they’d talked about his brother and her daughter, was back in place. His amber eyes were hard and cold, his lips pressed into a firm line.
Doesn’t want me. Never wanted me. Got it.
“Kenna,” he said, nodding a greeting.
She pasted a smile on her face. It must have been a brittle one, because he flinched. “Anything I can get the pair of yous?”
He blinked at her. “You’re from New Jersey now?”
“England. What of it?” she asked, chin high. “Now, what I can get you two for bloody dinner? Be quick about it, will you, I’ve got other tables to see to, I do.” And now I’m cockney.
He peered at her a long while before tossing down his menu and rubbing a hand down his face. “We don’t want anything. This was a mistake.”
“So we’re not hungry?” his date asked, as if her appetite depended completely on his. “And what about the tour of your new house? Are we still going to see it?”
“You bought a house?” Kenna gasped out, then had to repeat the question using one of her accents.
Blondie looked at her and frowned. “Excuse me, but this is a private conversation.”
Dane scowled. “Don’t talk to her like that. This is my...Kenna.”
My Kenna.
The words affected her—heart, hammering out of control. He’d stopped himself from saying “sister,” she was sure of it. He didn’t feel brotherly toward her anymore.
In a burst of sudden clarity, she realized why he’d brought the blonde to the restaurant. He’d recognized Kenna’s interest, had experienced his own, and he’d wanted to show her that he wasn’t going to do anything about it. He was still dating around and had no interest of starting anything new with anyone else.
I’m being put in my place, quick and easy. “I’m his soon-to-be stepsister, I am,” she said for him, keeping her tone light, breezy. He’d never know how much he’d hurt her. Unwilling to take a chance on me. Doesn’t think I’m good enough. “But we’re not close. Not at all.”
His eyes narrowed, the thick fan of lashes shielding all that molten gold.
Blondie immediately relaxed, extending her hand to shake. “So nice to meet you.”
The weakness of her grip annoyed Kenna. “So...do you want anything to bloody eat?”
Dane closed his eyes for a moment, drew in a deep breath. “Whatever you recommend will be fine.”
She marched away, but she didn’t immediately type in an order. She ducked into the employee break room and took her cell out of her locker. She was going to let Dane know she’d moved on. Here. Now. He had nothing to worry about. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she texted West.
Are U free? I’m @ 2 farms & so is Dane. W/ a date.
&n
bsp; They, too, had developed a friendship. Unlike Dane, West had called her. Often. Just to see how she was doing. And it was beyond nice; she hadn’t realized how starved she’d been for adult companionship. Brook Lynn had Jessie Kay and her thousands of jobs, but Kenna had never had anyone else...until West had filled a gap she hadn’t known she had.
For the next twenty minutes, she managed to work as if all was well. She took Dane and Blondie a bottle of wine, even poured without spilling it. She served her other patrons without missing a beat.
Finally, West strode through the door. Kenna met him at the bar, and he leaned over to kiss her right on the lips. A blush stained her cheeks, and she had to stop herself from looking around to make sure no one had watched.
“Um, was that really necessary?” she asked.
He grinned at her, unrepentant. But for the first time, she saw the darkness clinging to the edges of his amusement. He wasn’t as happy-go-lucky as he acted, and she wondered why. “Yes. Now, what time do you get off?”
“Ten-thirty.” Only half an hour away. “If I can get rid of all my bloody customers.”
“Why are you talking like you’re from a Regency England poorhouse? You know what? It doesn’t matter. It’s cute. I’ll get rid of your customers for you and make sure you get off properly.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
She rolled her eyes. They didn’t have that kind of relationship, would never have that kind of relationship, but he still liked to tease her. “I thought a man of your prowess would have more original material.”
He flicked the end of her nose. “Did you know Dane and I have dated a few of the same women? He’s never cared. But time and time again, he’s warned me away from you.”
Hope unfurled, only to die a quick death. No way would she allow herself to get caught up in a does-he-or-doesn’t-he-like-me storm. Whether he did or not didn’t matter. He’d crossed a line tonight.
How? He’s single. He can see whomever he wants.
Well, he’d led her on.
How? He never promised me anything.
Stupid common sense! Lost in her thoughts, not paying attention to her actions, she moved on autopilot and popped the top on a beer, then handed it to West.
“Thanks. But I didn’t order this,” he said.
Crap. Focus. “And yet you’re still going to pay for it,” she quipped.
“I guess I am,” he said with a nod.
His ease with her relaxed her, and it was a nice feeling. “After my shift I plan on jumping into a body of water with all my clothes on. You want to come with? I need someone to record it for Brook Lynn.”
“You mean with all your clothes off, right?”
“Nope. On.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Before she could respond, Dane arrived, patting his friend on the back. “West. What are you doing here?”
“Enjoying the scenery,” West said, and winked at Kenna. “Also making plans for later. Me and Kens are going to do some late-night swimming.” His voice dipped as he added, “And filming.”
“Kens?” Dane glared at Kenna with accusation. “He’s helping you with your list?”
“Yep,” West replied, even though he had no idea what they were talking about. “She’s gonna keep me distracted from the fact that you bought the Anderson ranch right out from under me. Had the deed signed over before I could make a bid.”
The Anderson ranch on the edge of town. Kenna had personally hoped the place would burn to the ground. It was the scene of the crime, where she’d lost her virginity and conceived Norrie.
“A lot of thought went into its purchase,” Dane grumbled.
“Oh, really?” West said. “In just a few days?”
“I wanted it and decided to take it. You had the chance, but hesitated.”
Grinning, West slapped him on the shoulder. “Exactly the situation you’re finding yourself in now, my friend. Wouldn’t you say?”
Dane pulled at his tie, clearly uncomfortable. “Yes, well, I also made sure you had another option. The Glass house. It’s bigger.” His attention returned to Kenna, as if he were trying to tell her something. “I liked the pool at the Anderson ranch better.”
“Good for you.” The Glass house was—had been—owned by the parents of Harlow Glass. A girl Kenna’s age, though the two of them had never run in the same crowds. Harlow had put the “snob” in “snobby” until she’d abruptly dropped out of public life to be homeschooled. Harlow was spotted every now and then, but she always kept her head down and never stopped to chat with anyone.
Where was she living?
“You can use it,” he finished. “The pool.”
“No thanks,” she said, and gave him another fake smile. “I’ll use West’s.”
Brook Lynn approached her side. “Is everything all right, mates? You need me help with anything?”
“Dane needs help,” West said. “A lot of help.”
Brook Lynn looked at him and frowned. “Wasn’t talking to you, now was I?”
He showed no sign of offense. “Okay, now I have to know. What’s with the bad accents? You guys in some sort of reality show?”
“Yes,” she replied. “We’re calling it The Nutcracker.”
He chuckled. “Wow. You country girls are a tough crowd.”
“Kenna,” Dane said, his tone firm.
“I’m fine,” she told Brook Lynn, ignoring him. Then she walked away, leaving the boys to their conversation. The bowls of beef stroganoff she’d ordered for Dane and his date were ready. She carried the food to their table even though Dane remained at the bar.
“Hey,” Blondie said, grabbing her wrist before she could walk away. “Do you know...is Dane seeing anyone else?”
No reason to hide the truth. “Yes. A lot of someone elses.”
The girl’s shoulders slumped with disappointment. “He told me he would never commit, but I didn’t want to believe him.”
And that, right there, was another reason to stay away from him. He wreaked havoc on all women, even though he obviously wasn’t offering them very much.
Like I have room to talk. Kenna turned to go—and smacked into a hard wall of muscle. A wall named Dane. He radiated heat and testosterone, and she sucked in a breath as he took her hand and dragged her into her boss’s office.
Mr. Calbert saw, but rather than scowl, as he normally would have, he gave her a thumbs-up. Ugh. The Dane Michaelson effect was universal.
The door slammed closed, sealing her inside with him. Alone. Heart hammering, she jerked from his grip.
“Don’t ever do that again,” she said. “I need this job, and I need my tips. I can’t afford to make my customers wait.”
“West is currently making sure I’m your only remaining table. And would you please stop using the accent? It’s distracting.”
Accent thicker, she replied, “I’ll stop when the bloody day is bloody over, I will.” She tugged at the door, but it held steady. When she pivoted, she realized why. Dane had his big hand flattened on it, just over her head. She glared up at him. “Move.”
“Not until you listen to me.”
“There’s nothing for you to say.”
“I think there is.”
“And you are always right?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know anymore!” He hit the door once, twice, making the wood vibrate against her back. “Rhonda is not my girlfriend, and you shouldn’t be seeing West. He dates a new girl once a year. One girl, two months. No more. I don’t know why. What I do know is that it never lasts past that point.”
“He and I are friends, that’s all.”
Dane’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “That’s how it starts.”
Was he purposely trying to make her crazy? “How what starts?”
It should be illegal for him to say either of those words. Sexual from those gorgeous lips was more carnal than a caress. And relationship? Verbal. Orgasm.
“Is that what happens with you and all your women?” she asked.
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “No.”
“And yet you’re so sure that’s what will happen with West and me?”
“Yes,” he hissed.
Heart hammering a thousand times faster, she asked, “And that bothers you...why?”
“Did I say it bothers me?” The harshness of his tone echoed off the walls.
Any other time, she might have flinched. But the fact that he’d just evaded her question spoke volumes. Would it bother him?
Can’t let myself care.
It was obvious Dane was as messed up about romantic entanglements as she was. The difference was she didn’t want to stay that way any longer. She wasn’t fighting change. She was ready to get out there and finally live her life, meet someone, fall in love and settle down. Norrie deserved a happy family.
Kenna released a long, heavy sigh. “I’m attracted to you, Dane.” The accent made the words seem less than sincere, so she added, “I am. I don’t want to be, but there you go. I’m attracted to you, and I can’t make it stop. But I’m not interested in a one-night stand or even in being your long-term booty call, on rotation. I’ve learned the value of a good reputation, and I don’t want to lose mine again. Because I’m not just responsible for myself anymore. I have my daughter. She means everything to me. Her own grandmother sometimes treats her like a nuisance, and some of the townspeople still haven’t forgotten that her mother can’t even name her father.”
Rambling. Right. Where was she going with this?
She guessed she should address that shocked look on his face.
“That’s right,” she said. “I don’t know who he is.”
His body coiled as tightly as a rubber band about to snap in two. “Were you...assaulted?” he asked gently.
“No. I was drunk.” She braved ahead, cupping his cheeks to make sure he was in the moment and not inside his own head.
All For You: Halfway ThereBuckhorn Ever AfterThe One You WantOne Perfect Night Page 20