Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
“This place is a dump,” Smith proclaimed.
Kenny slanted him an annoyed look. She wasn’t sure why he was here. He’d brought her to meet Tina at the house just after breakfast.
The drive and the meal had been conducted in total silence. And Kenny had fully expected him to just drop her at the front door and leave. Or, at the very least, wait outside.
Instead he had trailed after them in sulky silence. Clearly he wasn’t missing a single flawed detail of the house as he dragged fingers over chipped and broken surfaces, checked light fixtures, glowered at the grubby linoleum floor, and squinted at the loose hinges on the bathroom door.
“I’ll take it,” Kenny told Tina, ignoring Smith’s statement, and folding her arms over her chest as she met his incredulous stare with a defiant tilt of her chin.
“It’s not that bad,” Tina murmured, as they stepped out on the porch which had a pretty decent panoramic view of the town and the ocean glittering just beyond it from where it was situated on a hill. “You get some pretty spectacular sunrises.”
The last was said with a fond smile, which Kenny gathered meant the other woman was quite familiar with the sunrises from this very porch.
“I stayed in this house when I first moved to Riversend,” she said, confirming Kenny’s suspicion. “It’s not ideal, but it’s a roof and four walls.”
“Oh no, it’s perfect,” Kenny said with a smile, as she drank in the lovely view. She pictured sitting out here on warm evenings, a glass of wine in one hand, her e-book reader in the other.
Bliss.
She truly needed that kind of peace in her life right now. And not even the relative proximity to her soon-to-be ex-husband was going to ruin that for her.
He sound he made in response to her last statement was derisive and dismissive.
Kenny ignored the rude noise and smiled at Tina.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice throbbed with sincerity. “I truly appreciate this.”
“I’m happy to help. Believe it or not, the house next door is in worse shape,” Tina said. She was referring to the other half of the semi-detached house. The two small houses shared the long, wide porch.
“Harris and Greyson shared that one for a little while,” Tina continued with a laugh. “You’ve never heard so much whinging about ‘substandard living conditions’ from grown men. They’re such spoiled brats.”
Kenny shared a smile with her and her gaze skimmed over the horizon again.
“It’s so peaceful up here,” she whispered reverently. “When can I move in?”
“Mr. Dickens, the landlord, said that if you’re not fussed about having it cleaned beforehand, you could move in today or tomorrow.”
“I can clean it.”
“How the hell do you propose to do that with an injury?” Smith’s reality check was not welcome, and she slanted him a quick look. She’d assiduously avoided looking at him too long all morning.
“Really, really slowly,” she replied with only a hint of flippancy.
Tina giggled and then slapped her hand over her mouth when her brother leveled his unimpressed stare on her.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Smith said, after staring at Tina a beat longer. He refocused that cool gaze on Kenny. “I mean, would you even know one end of a mop from the other?”
“Hmm, that is a head scratcher. The pointy end goes up, right?”
Another irreverent giggle from Tina and this time she met her brother’s glare with a shrug.
“Sorry,” Tina chuckled. “You never told me she was so funny.”
“I’ll be fine, Smith.” Kenny lost track of how many times she’d used the same phrase in the last twenty-four hours.
Why did everybody think she was so damned incapable?
She was a renowned oncologist, a talented surgeon, the youngest head in the history of the oncology department.
She could bloody operate a tower crane expertly, for God’s sake.
She was extremely competent, so why was everybody suddenly treating her like some fragile flower who couldn’t tie her own shoelaces?
“I don’t like it,” Smith groused.
“You don’t have to. What I do and how I do it no longer concerns you.”
He thrust his hands into his front pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels, eyes trained on her face.
The sun glinted off his hair, setting the coppery highlights ablaze.
He hadn’t shaved this morning, and he looked sexy and disheveled in those snug jeans and another one of those vintage T-shirts he liked. This one featuring the Peanuts gang.
“You’re right.” His voice was curt. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
He whirled and effortlessly jogged the three steps down the porch to the car thirty seconds later. Another thirty after that he’d deposited her bag at her feet.
“Take care, Kenna,” he muttered. Now he seemed to be the one avoiding her eyes.
“Thank you, Smith. Goodbye.” She inserted a chilly finality into the word.
His Adam’s apple bobbed and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but then seemed to change his mind and shook his head impatiently.
He ducked his head and palmed his nape before nodding.
“Bye.”
And with that, he was gone.
Tina and Kenny stood in awkward silence for a moment after the Land Rover sped away.
“I do think you’ll need help cleaning this place up, Kenny,” Tina said after a beat.
“I’ll take my time. I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“Look, I have to get to work. Why don’t you come with me? I have a meeting. You can have some breakfast and after I’m done, we can call the landlord to finalize your short-term lease and discuss your options.”
Tina owned the local eatery in town. Kenny had never been to the place, but apparently it was very good.
“No, I don’t want to impose.”
Tina canted her head and assessed her keenly. “You’re not very good at accepting help, are you?”
“My biggest flaw,” Kenny admitted with an abashed little shrug. Tina grinned at her candor.
“It’s not an imposition at all, Kenny,” the woman said. “Please let me help you.”
Kenny hesitated. What else did she have to do? Nothing. Despite her bravado and assurances to both Smith and Tina, the prospect of cleaning this place—especially with an injured foot—was daunting. She’d also need to order the cleaning supplies before she could get started anyway.
“Smith won’t like it.”
“Smith doesn’t get to dictate my—or your—friendships.”
“I’m trying to be fair, Tina,” Kenny whispered, her voice heavy with regret. “Trying to respect his wishes and his space. It’s bad enough I’ve come here and that I’m staying despite the fact that he’s clearly unhappy about it.”
Tina nodded, her green eyes—so similar to Smith’s—brimming with sympathy.
“I understand,” she said, then reached out to squeeze Kenny’s hand. “I’m just a phone call or text message away. The landlord, Mr. Dickens, will forward the lease agreement to you later. I’ll text a list of cleaning companies and delivery services. Our local grocery store delivers as well.”
“Thank you.”
Tina sucked her lower lip into her mouth as she stared at Kenny in concern.
“You sure you’ll be okay?” Her eyes drifted to the walking cast.
“Yes.”
“Don’t overdo it, okay?”
“I won’t.” Her hand tightened around Tina’s for a moment before releasing the other woman. “Tina, thank you. I know we haven’t been on the friendliest of terms…and I know that it’s my fault. So it means a lot that you’re willing to help me.”
Tina scoffed.
“Go easy on the self-recrimination, okay? I don’t know exactly what’s going on between you and Smith, but I feel like you’ve accepted an unfair share of the blame.
Also, quite honestly, I could have tried harder myself.
But I’m socially awkward and so are you, so it was bound to be a shitshow of misunderstandings. ”
Kenny chuckled and the sound ended on a little sob.
“I do cultivate a do not touch air. I always thought it was better for people to think I was a rampant, ice-cold bitch than to recognize that I’m just never sure how to get along with people. Other women especially.”
They shared an understanding smile upon finally seeing that their similarities outweighed their differences.
“Right, I have to get going,” Tina said. “Libby’s going to murder me if I’m late for this meeting.”
Libby—Olivia Chapman—was Tina’s best friend, sister-in-law, and the head chef at her restaurant.
Kenny nodded and watched as the other woman left in a flurry of movement and warm smiles.
As Tina drove off with a cheerful honk, Kenny sank down onto the rickety old porch swing—seriously, did every house in this town have one of these?—alone, lonely, and suddenly filled with self-doubt and regret.
Why was she staying here?
Nobody aside from Tina thought she should be here. Part of Kenny knew that they were right.
But, as she had told her brothers, she was tired. She needed to regroup and recover. And this place right here was where she was going to do that.
“Fuck!” Smith glared down at the hook snagged in the heel of his hand. He muffled a few more swear words as he carefully manipulated the barbless hook from his flesh.
It stung like a sonofabitch.
His own fault for not paying attention to what he was doing. He didn’t even like fishing, he’d just needed to get out of the house for a while.
It still smelled like her.
Sheer desperation had driven him to picking up the fishing rod and tackle box he’d discovered in the small garden shed and driving to this best ever—according to Harris and his buddies—fishing spot at the estuary which had given the town its name.
He hadn’t hooked a fucking thing all morning. Aside from his own damned self, of course.
He wrapped a dirty rag—also courtesy of the tackle box—around his bleeding hand and packed up everything, stifling the frustrated urge to toss the lot into the river. But this wasn’t his stuff and it wouldn’t be very environmentally friendly of him.
He’d hoped that this activity would prove therapeutic. Take his mind off everything. Instead, he’d been bored to death with nothing to do but think. About Kenna, their failed marriage, and her confusing and infuriating insistence on remaining in town.