Chapter Fourteen
Carter
There wasn’t an opportunity to talk to Kenna during the drive. Not with three kids in the back singing Taylor Swift songs at the top of their lungs the entire way to White Plains.
It didn’t matter to me, though. It was nice just having her in the front seat with me.
Every time I’m near Kenna, my body feels energized. At the very same time, however, there’s a sense of calm. Like everything in my life is good.
Still, something niggles away at my brain. Because I’m certain Kenna’s life is not good. And one of these days, I hope to find out why.
One of these days.
An hourglass appears in my head, reminding me I don’t have much time. And I don’t like that. Not even a little bit.
Once we’ve handled Kenna and Amelia’s registration, Bug points to the right. “Ladies dressing room is over here.” She turns to Christian. “See you in the deep end!”
The smile sparkling between them is entirely too reminiscent of the way I’ve been looking at Kenna. When my eyes briefly meet hers, I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing.
Christian and I head off to change, both of us unusually quiet. Like we’re caught in our own heads. After shoving our clothes in a locker, I grab a few towels on our way out.
“Dad?” Christian says before we reach the pool. “You like her, don’t you?”
I toss one of the towels over my shoulder. “Who?”
He rolls his eyes, which are a lot easier to see since he left his glasses in our locker. “Come on. Really?”
I blow out a long, controlled breath. “Yeah, son. I like her. But I’m trying not to like her too much.”
“Because they’re leaving soon?”
I nod.
“Do they have to leave? Maybe you can ask them to stay. They’re both pretty cool. And I don’t even mind that they would be living in the basement that was meant for me.”
I clasp his shoulder. “That’s mighty generous of you. But I get the idea Kenna’s eager to move on.”
“Mmm, I don’t know, Dad. She seems pretty into you.”
I raise a brow, not sure I want to have this conversation with my teenage kid.
He chuckles. “I’ve seen the looks you give her, and the ones she gives you. I know those looks.”
“Oh, you know those looks, do you?” I ask with a playful thwack of a towel against his arm.
“Carter!” a familiar angelic voice squeals behind me.
I turn toward Amelia and the wind gets knocked out of me when I see her mother trailing behind her. Holy shit. I thought she was beautiful before, but this… this has me at a total loss for words. Kenna is wearing a shimmering green string bikini that showcases every single curve of her body.
Her creamy breasts leave little to the imagination now that I can see all but the six inches or so covered by the triangular material that meets in her cleavage with a tiny bow.
The curve of her hips give way to shapely abs that hint at the workouts that must be a part of her daily routine.
Her skin is pale, a perfect porcelain shade, as if it rarely sees the sun.
And her legs… for fucking miles. Jesus, I can’t stop staring, longing to touch every light freckle, trace every curve.
She must be aware of my ogling, as she throws her towel at me and then dives right into the deep end.
I walk over and sit down on the edge, happy for an excuse to hide the half-mast evidence of my arousal.
She breaks through the surface of the water, hair wet, water streaming down her face.
Fuck she’s beautiful.
I close my eyes and focus on anything but how she looks. Because, seriously, now is not the time for a full-on stiffy.
Then something occurs to me. “You can swim?”
“Of course I can swim. It’s Amelia who hasn’t learned yet.”
“I’m surprised your dad let you wear a bathing suit in public,” I tease.
“We’re not Mennonites, Carter. But my bathing suits were always ultra conservative, unlike my peers, which is why I didn’t go swimming all that much.
” She hoists herself out of the pool and sits a foot away from me, tugging on the hip tie of her amazing green bikini.
“This is actually my very first two-piece.”
It’s hard not to eye her up and down again.
I follow beads of water streaming down from her hair.
They roll down her body at first, then they slow and start dripping onto her legs.
When I look back up at her face, I notice that her bikini matches the color of her eyes.
Is that a coincidence, or did she plan it that way?
Stop staring.
I turn away and face out into the water. “Well, might I say, bravo.”
When she doesn’t reply, I peek at her to see her entire face and neck have reddened.
“And this is when you compliment mine.” I stand up, hold my arms out, and turn, showcasing my ridiculous Superman swim trunks Christian got me for Christmas a few years back.
When her eyes lower to study them, I have to try really really hard to keep more blood from rushing south. Because having her eyes on me down there is so fucking sexy.
Thankfully, she laughs. Because if she’d have moaned, sighed, or blatantly stared, all bets would have been off.
“Can I jump in to you, Carter?” Amelia asks.
Right. The kids. I almost forgot they were here.
I point to shallower water. “Over there, okay?”
Kenna’s eyes don’t stray from me one single time when Amelia jumps in the water into my arms over and over and over.
Kenna never swims laps or interacts with Christian and Bug as they play in the deep end, eventually moving on to his PT in more shallow water.
She simply sits on the edge of the pool.
Watching. Assessing. And, hopefully… admiring.
Two hours later, Amelia having learned how to hold her breath and kick back to the edge of the pool, we’re all waterlogged and ready to go.
Part of me is disappointed I didn’t have any time to ‘play’ with Kenna in the pool. Then again, it’s probably for the best. My swim trunks can only hide so much.
Back in the car, Christian and Bug fall into quiet conversation, and Amelia almost instantly falls asleep.
“You wore her out,” Kenna says, glancing behind us.
“Ha! She’s the one who wore me out.” I hold up my right arm and shake it out. “My arms feel like jelly. I know she must only weigh thirty pounds or so, but dang.”
Kenna laughs. “I think you caught her a hundred times and tossed her in the air a few dozen more. You’re really strong.”
My inner self pumps a fist.
“Dad, is it okay if Bug stays for dinner?”
“Ah, crap. I probably need to go shopping.” I don’t explain that my cupboards are practically bare as I’ve most definitely been distracted for the past week. “Mind if we stop?”
“I have a better idea,” Kenna says. “How about I cook tonight? I have plenty of food. Consider it my thanks for today.”
A slow smile broadens my face. Breakfast. Swimming. And now dinner. The makings of a perfect day.
“We’d love that.”
She turns to face the back seat again. “You too, Bug. I hope you like chicken noodle casserole.”
~ ~ ~
Earlier, I was sure swimming with Kenna would have topped the list, but now I think cooking dinner with her has surpassed it, becoming my new favorite thing to do. Between the glances, the ‘accidental’ arm brushes, the occasional bumping of hips… my face hurts from smiling so much.
Her hand skims my elbow. “Mind chopping that chicken up into cubes?”
I pull the biggest knife from the block and assume the stance of a Samurai. Her laughter makes the stupidity of the moment all worth it.
The pot with the noodles begins boiling over. Kenna and I reach for the lid at the same time and my hand inadvertently knocks hers right into some of the overspill. She jumps back and grimaces, and I quickly turn down the burner.
“Ah, shit. Are you okay?”
She shakes out her hand, and no matter what she’s about to say, I know she’s not all right.
I point to the table. “Sit. I’ll get some ice.”
I put some ice into a small Ziplock bag and bring it over.
Sitting next to her, I carefully hold the baggie on top of her reddened third finger.
It’s not as if she doesn’t have another perfectly capable hand to hold the ice in place, but the fact that she lets me do it is quite empowering.
When I glance up at her face, she doesn’t seem at all concerned with the finger anymore.
Would she mind if I kissed her again?
It’s all I’ve thought about for the past twenty-four hours. The kiss. The way her hands gripped my neck, my sides, my arms, as if she couldn’t get close enough to me. I thought about all the things that could have—and maybe would have—happened were our kids not in the adjacent room.
Her eyes are deep pools of brilliant green with tiny specks of gold around the pupils.
They remind me of gemstones. The shade of them changes depending on the light, ranging from light jade to forest green.
Right now, with the sun down and the kitchen light mostly behind her, they’re a dark, almost inky-green.
But what I love most about her eyes right now isn’t the color. It’s what I see in them. Warmth. Desire. And maybe a bit of enchantment.
She breaks our stare when her phone timer goes off.
“I, uh… My finger feels much better now. Thanks.” She stands, disposes of the ice pack, and goes over to stir the noodles.
I go back to cutting the chicken, maybe a bit too aggressively.
When I’m done, she drains the noodles and adds both the noodles and chicken to a sauce she made, tosses it all together, spreads it over a bed of broccoli, and sprinkles parmesan cheese and breadcrumbs over the top.
She slides the casserole dish into the oven and sets a new timer on her phone. “This needs to bake for twenty minutes.”
“Great.” I lean back against the counter and cross my feet at the ankles. “Whatever will we do to pass the time?”
A blush works up from her chest to her face. God, I love it when she blushes. I’m about to throw all caution to the wind and kiss her, when she grabs a large bowl off the counter and shoves it into my gut. “Make a salad?”
“Cock-blocked by greens,” I mumble, then chuckle to myself.
Her jaw slackens. Shit, she heard that?
“And what makes you think I want to go anywhere near your, um…” Her gaze gravitates down to my pants.
I put the bowl aside and step closer. “The eyes don’t lie, Kenna.”
She swallows. My eyes are glued to her supple neck, following the involuntary movement. I’m pretty sure I can see her pulse pounding in her artery. And damn it, I really want to put my lips there to feel it.
Ping.
The sound comes from her phone. She doesn’t move for a long, drawn-out moment, where her eyes once again reveal just how much she wants this.
The ping sounds again. And then a third time.
“Someone is texting you.”
I’m not sure why I say it. I don’t want her to move. Maybe it’s a challenge to see if she can resist the urge to look at her phone. If she can prioritize this moment we’re having over whatever is waiting for her on her device.
“Mommy, I’m hungry.”
She spins around. “Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes, baby.”
I guess I’ll never know the answer to my internal musings.
Bug and Christian appear behind Amelia. “Can we help?”
I hand Bug the bowl. “Get started on a salad?”
“Sure.”
Amelia stares through the oven window as if that will somehow make dinner come faster. Bug and Christian share a few laughs over the making of the salad. And Kenna is staring at her phone, looking at it as if she just got the news that someone died.
“Everything okay?” I ask in a whisper.
She swallows again. But this swallow is completely different from the last one. This one came from a place of shock, apprehension, or maybe even fear. I have to keep myself from swiping her phone and reading the texts. Who are they from? What do they say?
She shakes her head, puts her phone upside down on the table, and walks over to the cabinets, getting out plates to set the table.
Her entire demeanor has changed. A minute ago we were having this fun and flirty evening.
Now she looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here.
It makes me want to fucking thump whoever sent the texts and ruined our amazing night.
More than that, though, it makes me want to take her in my arms and protect her from whatever is out there.
Sadly, I never get the chance to do either.
Later in bed, I can’t sleep. All I can do is think of the mercurial woman living under my feet, wondering how it’s even possible that she’s wormed her way so completely into my life and my heart in six short days.
Somehow knowing my life won’t be the same when she and her daughter are no longer in it.