Chapter 11 #2
Worse, he had taken one look at that place she was so eager to rent and despised the very notion of Kenna staying in that dusty, moldy hovel.
It had taken every ounce of his willpower not to drag her kicking and screaming back to his own tiny rental.
He was seething as he lugged the equipment back to his vehicle. Resentful of the fact that her mere presence in town was already fucking with his peace of mind. He angrily tossed everything in the back of the car, muttering under his breath.
He hated feeling this way all the time.
Pissed off. Infuriated. Aggrieved.
Concerned.
Because she was different, and it troubled him.
He hated that she chose to show him the vulnerability she’d kept hidden for the entirety of their marriage now, when it was too late.
It felt fucking manipulative.
And he despised her for that.
God, he hated these conflicting emotions. And mixed into everything, there were other, more disturbing emotions at play.
She seemed looser, 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 emotionally and physically. 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 like beautiful, flawless, and unattainable.
But cute was 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 this other version 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, really fast.
“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—”
“The time,” he completed. “I know.”
“It’s not like we could just come here for a night out. It’s seven hours away.” Why did she still sound so defensive?
“I know.” What was he doing? This was maddening. And confusing.
He didn’t sound upset anymore. He didn’t even sound judgmental. And yet, Kenny felt judged. Like she’d never made an effort.
“You had all those work and family commitments whenever I came here for a weekend or a short break,” he said with a shrug. “No big deal.”
The flicker in his eyes betrayed the lie.
“I wanted to join you,” she whispered.
“Yes, Kenna, I know.”
She clamped her lips between her teeth to stop any further protestations, sensing that the more she protested, the more entrenched his passive-aggressiveness was going to become.
Which would only lead to greater frustration for her.
And since he seemed to be in a weird and unpredictable mood, she’d rather leave it alone for now.
“Are you joining me for breakfast?” she asked, knowing he’d refuse.
He shrugged. “Should I?”
“Yes? We could work out some kind of schedule while we eat.”
He leaned back on the spindly legged chair and folded his arms over his broad chest.
“Schedule?”
“So that we can avoid accidental encounters like these. They seem to upset you.”
“They don’t upset you?”
“Not really. Then again, I don’t hate you.”
His brows slammed together and he leaned forward to stare at her intently.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged and took a delicate sip of her cappuccino. She felt her words were pretty self-explanatory.
“I told you,” he said. “I don’t hate you.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” she said, snapping her fingers as if only now remembering. “You don’t feel anything for me. Well, then the sight of me shouldn’t upset you as much as it does.”
He glared at her and shifted uncomfortably in that chair, which looked like it could barely support his weight. Kenny shifted her gaze from his to look around the restaurant again.
This place was gorgeous. Beautifully decorated in pale pinks and greens, with charmingly mismatched shabby chic pieces of furniture.
Even on a Thursday morning, the place was bustling. Quite a lot of the patrons appeared to be tourists, if the number of accents and different languages she’d heard in the twenty minutes she’d been sitting there was any indication.
“This restaurant is so Tina,” Kenny observed, deliberately changing the subject. “I’ve always admired her unique style. And it’s reflected beautifully in this place.”
Kenny loved the way Tina dressed, in gorgeous, figure-hugging dresses that enhanced and complimented her plush figure.
“She’s done well,” Smith agreed, doing a quick scan of the restaurant before focusing on Kenny’s face. “We’re proud of her. She was always so aimless before settling down here and starting this business.”
A bubbly, middle-aged waitress bounced up to their table.
“Morning, Smith,” she greeted, her curious eyes bouncing from Kenny back to Smith. “Are you ready to order? Or do you need a minute?”
“The usual, thanks, Suzie,” he told her with a warm smile. He’d always been so generous with his smiles, Kenny thought with a pang. Seeing it now drove home how very little he’d smiled around her over the last six months.
Suzie returned his smile, then shifted that same smile to Kenny, who had placed her order just a couple of minutes before Smith had walked in.
“Would you like us to serve your meals at the same time?” she asked and Kenny slanted Smith a questioning glance. He gave a brief, barely perceptible nod and Kenny smiled at the server.
“How thoughtful,” she said warmly. “Yes, thank you. That would be lovely.”
“Will do,” Suzie sing-songed and flounced away to the next table.
“How did you get here this morning?” he asked.
“Uber.”
“And how’s your toe?”
“Improving.”
“Are you overdoing it?”
“You know me,” she said casually.
“Do I?”
That made her pause and she tugged her lower lip into her mouth.
“I’ve been trying not to do too much,” she said. “In fact, the reason I’m here is because I hired a service to give the place a deep clean today.”
“Good.” His left hand was resting on the table and he tapped his index finger rhythmically for a few moments while staring at her in contemplative silence.
Kenny quelled the impulse to fiddle with the ends of her hair, and endured his perusal with a calm she was far from feeling.
She dropped her gaze to his hand and then stilled.
“You’re still wearing your wedding ring,” she blurted without thought, then immediately cringed when the measured tapping stopped and his hand curled into a fist. The gold of his wedding band gleamed mockingly before he withdrew his hand to beneath the table.
“I am still married,” he pointed out, sounding cool and controlled. He nodded toward her hand, which was curled around her coffee mug. “You’re wearing yours.”
She looked down at the twin bands of her wedding and engagement rings. The diamond of her engagement ring gleamed in the sunlight and she felt a pang of guilt at the sight.
She shouldn’t still be wearing it. She’d never really been entitled to it.
“You’ll want your grandmother’s ring back,” she said, her breath snagging in her throat as she began to tug at her rings.
“What?” He looked taken aback by her words.
The painkillers she’d taken that morning had caused her fingers to swell a little and the rings refused budge.
“I’m sorry.” The apology came on a panicked hitch of breath. “They’re stuck. Just…”
She sucked her finger into the mouth, hoping the lubrication would help, but the rings remained where they were.
“God,” she whimpered, head bent as she frantically wrenched at the rings once again.
“Jesus, Kenna. Stop.” Smith’s large hand came into her field of vision to wrap around her abused finger. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“It’s your grandmother’s engagement ring. It doesn’t belong to me. It never has.”
“I never said it was her engagement ring,” he mumbled, sounding uncomfortable as he withdrew his hand from hers.
The words distracted her from her desperation and she lifted confused eyes to his.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s not her engagement ring.”
“Hold on. Are you saying you just gave me a random ring from your grandmother’s jewelry box?” She sounded offended.
Wait. Was she offended?
Why? She should be relieved that it didn’t have a deeper meaning.
He ran a thumb over his lower lip and for a second Kenny was almost certain she saw a spark of amusement in his eyes, before his thick lashes lowered to hide whatever emotion gleamed in those green depths.
When next he looked at her, any hint of amusement was gone.
“Kenna, I’m the third grandson. I was never going to get the elaborate spoils like engagement rings.
Nana Pat’s engagement ring went to Conrad as the eldest, and he naturally gave it to Kitty.
And Granny Rita’s engagement ring went to Tina.
Kyle and I were left with the random pieces.
I like this ring, it was one of Nana Pat’s favourites, and I thought it suited you. ”
Oh.
That was somehow worse.
It was a sentimental piece that had reminded him of her. That made it so much harder to part with while at the same time it felt so much less deserved.