Chapter 17 Henry
SEVENTEEN
HENRY
I KNEW A PRAISE KINK WHEN I SAW ONE.
The fumes from the windy city assaulted my senses as I dragged Kennedy out of the restaurant.
Every feeling imaginable hit me all at once.
I was irritated, pissed, confused as hell.
Mostly, I felt guilty about how I acted.
It was shocking how I managed not to grab that piece of shit by the collar of his shirt and punch him.
But when Kennedy stopped me, and her voice urged me to take a step back and think for once, it calmed me. One look at her was all it took.
Kennedy and I had been making progress, and here I went, fucking it up by threatening her ex-boyfriend.
“Kennedy, I am so—”
She interrupted. “Thank you.”
I reared back in surprise. “You’re not mad?”
She etched her brows together, which made her look ridiculously cute. “Why would I be mad? He was being a dick.”
I let out a humorless laugh as I pinched my index and thumb fingers together. “I was this close to punching him if you hadn’t stopped me.”
“Thank God you didn’t, we don’t need another scandal.” She laughed, followed by a sigh. “At least now we know you’re capable of listening.”
Here I was pissed about what happened back at the restaurant, and she was worried about a scandal? The knowledge alone made me irrationally angrier.
“I couldn’t give less of a fuck about a scandal,” I shot back. “Why did you let him speak to you like that?”
None of these people deserved Kennedy.
Who the fuck was this person standing in front of me? Because she sure as hell wasn’t the woman I knew and liked.
Where was her fire?
And why was I so pissed?
There was too much happening; my mind was reeling.
Her body visibly tensed, and she tried to get out of my grip, but I didn’t let her.
“Let me go, Henry,” she said coldly.
“Not until you answer. What the fuck was that back there?”
She raised her free arm in defeat. “I don’t know, okay? Joe has always been kind of a douche, but he—”
“Understatement of the century,” I deadpanned. “But I’m not talking about his attitude. I’m talking about you. If anyone at work dared talk to you like that, you would have brought down hell on them. So why does he get a pass?”
My body trembled with anger. Fuck, I was livid. At her—for her. It made me furious the way I witnessed how little she cared about herself and her feelings.
She finally managed to get out of my death grip. “I have to demand respect at work because otherwise, they will all see me as a joke,” she shouted with a shake of her head. “And why am I even explaining myself to you right now?!”
She wasn’t wrong. She didn’t owe me any explanations, but excuse me for being confused as hell at the bait and fucking switch she’d done.
The situation was getting out of control with every passing second, and I was eager to get this over with.
I loved bantering with Kennedy, but fighting?
That I loathed with every fiber of my being.
I threaded my fingers through my hair in frustration. “How do we go from you thanking me to arguing? God, Kennedy, you’re so infuriating!”
Her eyes practically came out of their sockets in disbelief. “I’m infuriating? You started it!”
I placed my hands on my hips, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “Forgive me if I’m trying to understand what happened. I was blindsided.”
“It’s none of your business how I act around people,” she snapped.
“I beg to differ,” I challenged. “I’m your boyfriend,” I said as if that would explain everything. As if it were true.
“Fake boyfriend,” she corrected.
I ate the distance between us and pressed a finger against her mouth as my eyes darted around in panic. “You can’t be saying that in public.”
She darted her hand to my ribs and pinched me. I let out a pained groan as I took two steps back. Hell, the strength this woman had was both terrifying and sexy at the same time.
“Ouch. What the fuck was that for?”
“I told you the next time you shushed me, I was going to pinch you.” She crossed her arms, a smug smile playing on her lips. “Not so much into masochism anymore, are we?” she asked innocently, batting her long, dark eyelashes.
Silence fell between us as I fought a smile that threatened to break my barriers. I couldn’t fathom how Kennedy managed to make me frustrated with her and in awe in a matter of seconds. She was something else.
It was incredible how she managed to breathe life into me. Every time I was around her, I could be myself. More than anything, when she was around me, I forgot about…everything. The pressure of my career. The pressure from my father. The way I self-destructed to keep a sense of control.
Around her, I could be…normal. And I loved that.
Not being able to hold back my smile any longer, I widened it as much as I could. She matched the movement, showing her beautiful and bright smile. This woman was perfect, and…fuck. The knowledge was so frustrating. All I wanted to do was kiss her again.
Kissing had always been a means to an end for me. Something I did because I knew where it would inevitably end up.
But kissing Kennedy was the closest thing to a religious experience I’d ever had.
Out of all the scenarios I had drawn up inside my head—and believe me when I say there were a lot—that was not how I imagined our first kiss to be.
I wished it had happened under different circumstances because I wanted—needed—it to happen again.
And call me crazy, but I think she wanted it, too.
There was no way she hadn’t felt how…how consuming it was.
“Do you want to go get ice cream?” I blurted.
“Why?”
Because spending time with you is fun even if you frustrate me and confuse the hell out of my fucking feelings.
Because I think I…I like you. Like, really like you.
Because I can’t get you out of my head, and I don’t think I want to if I’m being fucking honest.
“No point in wasting our perfectly good outfits,” I replied in a weak attempt to convince her. “We should enjoy our only day off, too.”
She gave me a you’re-so-full-of-shit look but nodded anyway. “Fine. Lead the way. I guess spending one more hour with you wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” she retorted.
And just like that, we fell back into the comfort of what we knew.
“Maybe going for ice cream wasn’t such a good idea,” Kennedy whispered as we strolled into the ice cream shop.
The place practically fell silent as all eyes settled on me. The city of Chicago was always crawling with hockey fans, and it was difficult not to get recognized.
“It’s bound to happen. I’m not wearing a disguise,” I whispered back. Though I considered it, it defeated the purpose of the exposure I told Kennedy we needed.
It was a risk I was willing to take if it meant she would go out with me, even if it was under fake pretenses. I was a desperate man who wanted nothing more than a glimpse of attention from her.
The guys were going to give me so much shit when they figured out what I was doing. I could hardly believe it myself.
“And your massive frame doesn’t help either,” she commented dryly.
“Massive, huh?” I wiggled my eyebrows.
She hit me in the shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Stop it.”
I fought like hell to keep my grin in check. “What flavor are you getting?”
She pursed her lips, staring at the menu. “I can’t decide.”
“Then choose two.”
She scrunched her nose. “I hate mixing flavors.”
“You’re weird.”
She scoffed. “I’m weird? You probably eat something like fancy toothpaste or fancy grass.”
“You mean mint-chocolate chip and matcha?”
“Same thing.” She narrowed her eyes. “Your favorite’s mint-chocolate chip, isn’t it?”
I shrugged as I tried my best to hold back a laugh, because…yeah. That shit was delicious.
When it was our turn, her eyes were still going back and forth between two flavors until she resigned herself with slumped shoulders. “I can’t decide, so a small strawberry cheesecake it is.”
I nodded and ordered hers and a small rocky road for myself. As they made quick work of serving them, I took my wallet out and paid before she even had the chance to grab her card. This won me one of her sexy-as-hell glares, and I simply winked at her.
When would she ever figure out that paying for things, or doing anything for her in general, was my special kind of drug?
For being the middle of November, it wasn’t that cold, so we grabbed our cups and headed to the outdoor seating area the shop had available.
Some people were still staring, while others had their phones out and were taking pictures.
Kennedy looked a little tense, so I gripped her shoulders in reassurance to ease her tension.
Even though she was used to being in front of the camera while at work, I knew firsthand how difficult it could be when people followed your every move while you were only trying to live your life.
It was the curse of being a public figure.
One I had been carrying for far too long.
“We should play a question game,” I said as we took a seat and ate a spoonful of ice cream.
She tilted her head. “Like 20 questions?”
I nodded. “Yeah, but we ask questions to get to know each other a little better. We don’t want to look like idiots in front of people.”
“If anything, I’ll be the only one who will look like an idiot, just like I did back at the restaurant,” she mumbled then ate a spoonful of ice cream. She grimaced but still managed to swallow.
“You don’t like it?”
She shrugged. “It’s fine. The strawberries are too sour for my liking.”
Without a word, I exchanged our cups.
“Hey!” She leaned forward to try to grab the cup from my hands. “That’s mine.”
I brought it close to my chest. “Yeah, but you don’t like it. Have mine.”
“But that’s not the flavor you wanted.”
If only she knew I wasn’t a huge fan of rocky road—it was the marshmallows, okay? I didn’t like them. Sue me. The only reason I ordered it in the first place was because it was the second flavor she kept staring at. Better safe than sorry.