Chapter 12 #2
He’d often done that in that past. Tried to invite her into his warmth. With laughter. Quips.
That easygoing, relaxed nature of his had been so welcoming and tempting. But Kenny had refused to be drawn in, afraid that when he left, it would be one more thing forever lost to her.
So she’d deprived herself.
Withheld herself.
And lost him anyway.
This glimpse of that same inviting warmth was heartening. She was relieved to see that she hadn’t stripped him of it completely.
“Absurd, isn’t it?” she murmured, her own voice less rigid now. Melting a little around the edges. “Trust me to make things difficult, right?”
The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled as he graced her with another one of those almost smiles.
“What form of communication were you thinking of? Letters? Calls? Emails?”
“I don’t know, Granddad. What about Morse code? Or maybe smoke signals?” she asked with a snort and a roll of her eyes.
Her acerbic comment startled a short, sharp bark of laughter from him and he looked shocked to hear the sound spilling from his lips.
“I’d forgotten—” He stopped speaking abruptly, as if suddenly remembering himself.
“Forgotten what?” she prompted gently, and he shifted uncomfortably. The chair creaked a little beneath his weight and once again she worried that it was too fragile to support him.
“I forgot how funny you can be,” he said after another moment’s hesitation. “We haven’t really had that much to laugh about over the last year and a half, have we?”
“No.” But they could have had.
There could—should—have been love and laughter and happiness.
What a horrible, horrible waste.
She instinctively reached across the table and at the last second, remembered herself. She curled her fingers into her palm, resting her fist on the cloth mere inches from the splayed fingers of his beautifully veined right hand.
“Let’s try not to…” She swallowed, eyebrows drawing together as she tried to find the right words. “Wallow in our regrets any more, Smith. Let’s try to set them aside just for right now. Do you—um—do you think we can do that? Maybe? Just for now. This moment?”
He did what she couldn’t and closed the distance between their hands, the back of that long, beautiful index finger delicately brushing over the ridges of her knuckles.
That gentle touch sent gooseflesh skittering over her skin and she uncurled her fingers, until her own index finger, so much slimmer than his, slid along the length of his.
The contact—so tender and unexpectedly intimate—left her reeling.
His finger hooked around hers and they sat in silence for a few moments, heads bowed, with only their index fingers entwined in the middle of the table.
“No wallowing,” he agreed, in a voice that had sunk to a low rasp. “Just for now.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Another reassuring stroke of that sensitive finger along the slim column of hers and
Kenny stared at their interlinked fingers. His skin was burnished by the sun, offering a stark contrast to the paleness of hers. She blinked back the hot moisture that suddenly burned at the back of her eyes, and made a soft, self-conscious sound.
“So if not smoke signals or Morse code, I’m assuming you mean texts?” His raspy voice broke the silence before it became too awkward.
“Yes, of course.” Emotions back under firm control but lurking just below the surface, Kenny braved a glance up into his eyes.
They were dark, stormy, but not hostile.
Rather, he looked as conflicted as she felt.
But for the first time since her arrival there was no rejection or anger lurking in those beautiful depths and Kenny ventured the tiniest of smiles.
The upward tug at the corners of her mouth made her realize how long it had been since she’d truly smiled.
And she recognized that despite his turbulent reaction to having her here, he’d still smiled more than she’d done since her unannounced and unwelcome reappearance back into his life.
That said a lot about the type of person he was. It also revealed the glaring deficits in her own personality.
But she wasn’t going to think about that right now. Because that would be wallowing. And she wasn’t about to break her own no-wallowing rule mere minutes after making it.
No wallowing in regrets or self-pity.
That could come later. Back in her real life.
Right now there was only this moment.
And this man. Who, against all odds, was touching her and staring at her with the faintest spark of warmth in his eyes.
And that, she decided, was enough for now.
“I heard you were here.”
Kenna jumped and snatched her hand away from Smith’s as Tina—her round face wreathed in smiles—came up to their table.
Smith loved his sister, but her timing right now left a lot to be desired.
Or perhaps her timing was perfect, because what even the fuck had that been? Touching her? Practically holding her hand?
Bad decision.
Allowing this vulnerable, painfully earnest and honest version of Kenna past his defenses would not end well for him.
He’d sat down at her table against his better judgment. Told himself that the restaurant was full and that it made no sense to take up two tables. He’d almost convinced himself that he was helping Tina by freeing up a table, which would earn her some extra revenue.
He could teach a masterclass on self-deception at this point.
And now they’d come up with this crazy plan to communicate?
Every day.
Fucking fantastic.
Talk about your too little coming too late.
“Oh.” Tina’s eyes were on their plates and her smile fell. “You barely touched your food. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, of course,” Kenna hastened to assure his sister. So concerned with sparing Tina’s feelings. “We were just discussing some things and got distracted. I’m sorry, we didn’t do this magnificent food justice at all.”
“You’re lucky Libby is off today,” Tina said with a laugh.
“Her under chef, Agnes, is a lot less temperamental and won’t be as offended to see barely touched plates returned to the kitchen.
Libby wouldn’t think twice about marching out here and demanding to know why you wasted her time and resources. ”
Smith impatiently wondered what they were supposed to say in response to that inane snippet, but Kenna, who looked fully engaged in the exchange with his sister, laughed.
One of those rare, delightful sounds of genuine amusement.
He couldn’t help but resent the fact that it was Tina who’d coaxed the sound from her with such a ridiculous comment.
“Are you joining us?” Kenna asked, her beautiful eyes still brimming with warmth.
Tina snuck a quick look at him and shook her head.
“No, thank you. Just stopping by to say hi. I have a meeting with one of our vendors in ten minutes. I just wanted to ask you, Kenny, if you’d like to join me and some friends tonight?
Ralphie’s hosts a ladies’ night on Thursdays—Cocktails and Karaoke.
We basically go out, get wasted, and sing our little hearts out. It’s great fun.”
Sing? At the pub in town?
Smith couldn’t picture Kenna singing. He’d never even heard her hum. Her face clouded and he knew she was about to disappoint his hopeful sister. But Tina should have known better than to put Kenna on the spot like this.
“I’m not a very good singer,” Kenna said, her voice filled with uncertainty.
Tina laughed and made a dismissive gesture with her hand.
“None of us are. And trust me, you can’t be as bad as my friend, Charity. The woman is amazing and talented in so many ways, but she regularly and readily admits to being ‘vocally challenged.’ And always insists on going last because—as she puts it—her voice will clear the room.”
Kenna laughed along with Tina, but she had a panicked, slightly trapped look in her eyes.
“It’s not so much the singing as the, um, performative aspect. Public performative aspect.”
Tina grinned.
“Ah, you mean singing in front of strangers? A few cocktails and you won’t even think about it.”
“Tina.” Smith inserted a note of warning into his voice. He didn’t want her pressuring Kenna into this.
Tina seemed to understand, and immediately backed down.
“I’m sorry, I’m the last one to force someone to do something so very public.
I was scared shitless the first time I got up there.
But I’ve discovered that nobody really pays attention to us.
” She cleared her throat and her smile went even warmer.
“Anyway, you really don’t have to sing, Kenny, but it would be lovely if you joined us anyway. ”
Kenna slanted a furtive peek at him, her eyes troubled and unreadable. Maybe she wanted his help in dissuading Tina?
“Tina,” he began. “Kenna doesn’t usually…”
“I’d love to.” Her voice cut across his and he fixed his bemused gaze on her face.
What?
He assumed he misheard, but Tina’s excited reaction dispelled that notion.
“Fabulous! I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”
“Don’t you have to work tonight?” Smith asked his sister, not sure how he felt about this new development. With the impending divorce, he’d been fine with his family and his wife not getting along.
This new relationship the two women were starting to forge made him uncomfortable on so many levels. But he knew better than to verbalize that thought. He valued his life too much.
Tina rolled her eyes at his question.
“Ricardo knows what he’s doing. That’s why he’s my manager. My staff is extremely professional. They can handle one evening without Libby and me. So six-thirty, Kenny?”
“I’ll be ready. What should I wear?”
“It’s Ralphie’s, so no need to dress up. Keep it casual.”
Before her arrival in Riversend, Smith would have laid even money on the fact that Kenna didn’t possess a single shred of clothing that could be described as casual. But he hadn’t seen her in any professionally tailored suits or designer dresses since her arrival.
Now he couldn’t help but wonder what her interpretation of keeping it casual would be.
Tina excused herself shortly after that.
Leaving Smith and Kenna to sit and stare at each other in awkward silence.
“I know you don’t think it’s a good idea for me to spend time with your sister,” she ventured.
“I simply don’t want her—either of you, actually—to get hurt.”
“She just seemed really excited,” Kenna said, tracing the geometric pattern on the white linen table cloth with her elegant forefinger. The same finger he’d been stroking mere minutes before.
“She did.”
“And I want to do it. Sing tonight, I mean.”
“You do?”
What the hell was going on with her?
“Yes, because I don’t think I’ll be very good at it.”
“Oh?” His response was wary. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that statement.
“It’s like you said, Smith,” she whispered, flattening her palm on the table, fingers splayed. “I only ever attempt things I know I’ll be good at. So maybe it’s time to try something different.”
Oh!
Well, fuck.