Chapter Sixteen
Kenna
I wake in a pool of sweat, my mind instantly fixating on the texts Cyrus sent last night.
Those three horrible texts from another new phone number.
He knows I moved out of the apartment. He reminded me how good he is at finding people.
He even posted a picture of my new car on my old street.
He emphasized how time is running out and promised to make good on his threat. But which threat?
Over the past few days, I’d all but convinced myself he would never do anything to Amelia.
As soon as I found out about his gambling problem, he couldn’t get us out of his life fast enough.
But then I recall what that guy Luke said about people like Cyrus doing things they didn’t know they were capable of.
Is Cyrus capable of kidnapping? Would he use her to pay his bookies?
Though it seems unlikely, I can’t take that risk, even if I’m trying to somehow rationalize staying in this town.
This town.
I stare up at the ceiling, reminiscing about yesterday. It was perfect. The walk. The coffee. The swimming. Making dinner together.
But I’m not sure it had anything to do with the town at all.
I close my eyes and think of every look, every touch, every laugh I’ve shared with him over this past week. And that kiss…
Has it really been a week?
I sit up as a pang of guilt washes over me. I’ve been here for an entire week and haven’t paid Carter a single penny of the agreed-upon amount. He probably thinks I’m a liar, and maybe a moocher.
Footsteps overhead have tingles shooting through me. I glance over at a sleeping Amelia, put on my robe, and take money out of my purse. Then I head upstairs as quietly as I can. It’s still early and I don’t want to wake the kids.
When I open the door to the kitchen, I stop dead.
Carter is facing away from me, standing in front of the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants.
His back is lean and muscular and… hello…
there’s the tattoo that was peeking out from his shirt the day we met.
The one I caught a few brief glimpses of at the pool.
I couldn’t make it out then without any obvious ogling, but now, with his back turned, all bets are off and I catch myself holding my breath in an attempt to remain absolutely silent as I take in the incredible sight.
It spans the upper part of his back between his shoulder blades.
It’s hard to say what it is exactly. It almost looks like a stylized bird.
A phoenix maybe. With wavy lines that could be wings coming out from a center that resembles a sun.
Or an eye. It’s very artistic. I swallow hard, the urge to trace every bit of his sexy tattoo with my fingers, or maybe my tongue, overpowering.
He turns, and I wonder if my internal moans weren’t so internal. Smiling at me with a devilish grin that alerts me that he has, in fact, caught me ogling, he waves the spatula in his hand. “Pancakes?”
“What?” My brain struggles to work as I tear my eyes away and attempt to look anywhere but at him. “Oh, um, thanks, but I never eat before coffee.”
He strides over to a cabinet, pulls out two coffee cups, then fills them. He hands me one and I read the mug: World’s Greatest Dad.
“Shouldn’t you have this one?” I ask.
He shows me his mug which also reads: World’s Greatest Dad. “Ninety percent of my mugs all say the same thing. Christian gets me one every year on Father’s Day.”
I hold up the mug in thanks and take a sip, loving the bitter taste as it warms my mouth and then my body.
He looks right at me, his eyes wandering from my face down to my cleavage and back up to my lips. “I have a very important question to ask you.”
My mind goes crazy with all the things he might ask. Will you have dinner with me? Can I kiss you again? How about you ditch your plans to go to Florida and stick around in Calloway Creek?
I’m just not sure which one I want him to ask. Or not ask. Or how I would answer.
“Okay,” I say, somewhat shakily.
“Chocolate chips or blueberries?” He smiles like he knows that’s not even close to the question I was expecting.
Not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved, I simply smile back. “Blueberries. But only because Amelia isn’t here. She’d insist on chocolate chips.”
“I’ll make both and you can take her some.”
My eyes close briefly. Of course he will. Because he’s amazing.
I start toward him. “I’ll help.”
He points to the table with the spatula. “Sit. This is a one-man job.”
Who am I to argue when sitting offers me the opportunity to watch him and study that magnificent tattoo some more.
Christian appears from the hallway. His eyes bounce between me and his dad. “You guys look… comfortable.”
I look down at my robe then up at Carter’s half-naked body and realize Christian has gotten the wrong idea. “Um, I was just coming up here to pay rent when your dad insisted I stay for pancakes.”
Christian smiles and shakes his head like he thinks I’m full of shit. Oh, my God, does he think we slept together last night?
To prove my point, I pull seven hundred dollars out of my robe pocket and put it on the table.
When Carter places the first batch of pancakes down, he looks at the pile of cash, his expression one of grave irritation. “Kenna, it’s really not necessary.”
“It’s what we agreed on.”
“I’m not taking your money.”
I slide it toward him. “Yes, you are.”
“There are other things you should be spending it on.”
“I’m not your charity case, Carter.”
Christian, who looks increasingly uncomfortable over our standoff, gobbles down three pancakes in as many bites, thanks his dad for breakfast, and leaves the room as fast as his forearm crutches will allow.
I sigh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to run him off.
” I pile a few pancakes on my plate and drizzle syrup over them.
“But we did agree. And I’d really like it if you took the money.
We both know it’s far less than I should be paying.
Besides, if you don’t take it, I’ll get mad.
And you do not want to see bitchy Kenna. ”
He puts his hands on the table, hovers over me, and stares down into my eyes. “I don’t know, that kind of sounded like a challenge.”
I laugh. “It’s not. Believe me, bitchy Kenna is even worse than hasn’t-had-coffee-yet Kenna.”
“Oh, well in that case…” His gaze shifts to the money, but then he turns away, leaving it right where I set it.
A few minutes later, he places more pancakes on the table—the chocolate chip ones—and I add one to my stack.
Carter sits across from me and cringes. “No way do chocolate chips mix well with blueberries.”
“Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
“Well, okay then.” He stabs two blueberry pancakes with a fork, transferring them to his plate, then does the same with two chocolate chip ones. His nose turns up as he drowns them in syrup, cuts through the tall stack, and takes a bite.
His eyes open wide as he chews.
“Told you.” I smirk.
“I’ll check on your parts this morning,” he says around another bite.
“Excuse me?”
He laughs. “Why, Kenna, I do believe your mind might be in the gutter.” He motions to his chest. “Would it have anything to do with my lack of attire? I was talking about your car parts.”
I roll my eyes. “I knew what you were talking about.”
He chuckles again. “Sure you did.”
“I did. I just couldn’t understand you with your mouth full of carbs. I don’t speak Neanderthal.”
He smiles, his mouth still full of pancakes. When I cringe at the sight, mocking disgust, he laughs, then starts coughing as he nearly chokes on his breakfast. I attempt to shoot him a you deserve it look, but quickly devolve into laughter myself.
Wiping a tear from my eye, I try to get us back on track. “So they haven’t shipped yet?”
“Not as of Friday afternoon.” He shrugs, like this is normal. “But they did say they’d rush ship them. Hopefully by mid-week.”
Talking about my car has me staring at the money again. Am I going to have to get more cash to cover the repairs? Does my bank even have a branch in this small town? “So, how much do you think the repairs will be?”
“Seven to eight thousand most likely. But don’t worry, you only have to pay your deductible once the claim goes through.”
“I’m not worried.”
Or maybe I am, but more about leaving than having to stay.
Could I stay? Should I?
No. It’s impossible. We’re too close to the city.
Besides, it’s a ridiculous thought. I can’t stay in the man’s basement indefinitely.
But if I move into a hotel or rent a house, Cyrus will undoubtedly find out about it.
As his former employee, I know better than anyone the resources he has at his disposal for finding out how, when, and where people use their credit cards, sign contracts, and request lines of credit.
As a divorce lawyer, he has all kinds of tricks up his sleeve, and I’ve no doubt he would use all of them to get what he wants from me.
Then again, what do I think will happen when I get to Florida?
Will being a thousand miles away make a difference if I still have to sign a contract for a lease?
Maybe. Maybe not. But the more physical distance I can put between us, the better.
Still, the thought of being that far away is starting to be less and less appealing.
“I can pay the full amount for the repairs if I have to. I just need to know so I have time to get the cash.”
He stops eating and puts his fork down. “Okay, Kenna, I have to ask, because not that many people carry around or have access to that kind of cash… how are you able to afford all this without a job? I mean, I grew up in a town with a lot of trust fund kids, and you for sure don’t seem like one.
Not to mention your dad is a pastor, which wouldn’t add up.
Do you, I don’t know, run an Only Fans page or something? ”
I almost spit out my bite of pancakes. “Oh my God. You think I get naked online for money?”
“Not necessarily. I’ve heard there are Only Fans pages for things like influencers, fitness trainers, and musicians.”
“Oh, you’ve heard, have you?”
“Kenna, I assure you, I have better things to do with my time than subscribe to online adult content websites.”
“Well, I suppose it’s good to know I’m not sleeping under a creeper.”
He laughs heartily. Oh, how I love his laugh. “Kenna, I promise you, if you were ever under me, there would be zero sleeping involved.”
My cheeks instantly flame.
“You’re pretty cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?”
I shove more pancakes in my mouth. But I bank that visual to get me through what I know will be very many lonely nights ahead.
“Okay, so you’re not an online adult entertainer. Are you a content creator? I’ve heard there’s a lot of money in that.”
“Right. Because I’m on my phone sooooo much.”
“Mmmm. True.” He tilts his head, studying me. “I’ve got it. You’ve been studying finance. You’re a very successful day trader.”
Amelia comes bounding up the stairs, her normal whirlwind of joy shifting the energy in the room. “I smell chocolate.”
Carter’s eyes don’t stray from mine. He seems disappointed that his inquisition didn’t come up with anything. He moves on quickly, though, and pulls out a chair for Amelia then tousles her messy hair. “Morning, pumpkin. How many pancakes would you like?”
Her eyes go wide at the tall stacks in the center of the table. Just how many people did he think he was cooking for?
Amelia claps excitedly. “Ten!”
Carter laughs and forks a couple onto her plate. “How about we start with two? You can always have more.”
He proceeds to cut them up for her. And my insides melt.
Why? Why is that so attractive? So… sexy and enticing and… everything.
She douses them in syrup and shoves a large bite in her mouth.
“What do you say, Amelia?”
“Thank you,” she says, but it’s barely recognizable as words with the mouthful she’s working on.
In record time, Amelia makes one of her trademark messes. Syrup dribbles down her chin and onto the front of her pajamas. Chocolate is smeared along one cheek. She drops no less than two forkfuls of pancakes onto the floor. And she misses her plate altogether when she tries to squirt whipped cream.
“Amelia!” I say, horrified, my eyes instantly shifting to Carter.
But his reaction is not at all what I expect.
He’s amused. I might even say he’s endeared.
Instead of muttering curses under his breath, he squirts a perfect spiral cone of whipped cream onto the remaining pancakes.
And I can only sit and stare in awe when he wets a paper towel and wipes her sticky face, smiling as if he’s enjoying every second of it.
If she’d made this kind of mess in front of Cyrus, he would have berated me for preparing such a stupid meal then blamed me for not teaching her to eat properly. And he’d have held it over my head for days, making me question not only my mothering abilities but my decision-making skills as well.
“You’re a good dad,” I say as Amelia runs out of the kitchen, syrup free. “You have far more patience than most.”
“I’ve no choice but to have patience raising a kid like Christian.”
I hear him, but it’s more than that. Not every parent has patience, no matter the challenges their children face in life.
I’d venture to say there are some who face the difficulties he and Christian have faced together who never develop the kind of mentality and outlook he has.
While Christian may have brought it out in him as a parent, there’s something far deeper there. It’s just… him.
“Speaking of Christian.” I glance at the hallway. “You don’t think he thinks we… you know.”
“I haven’t been a fifteen-year-old boy in nearly two decades. I have no clue what is or isn’t going through his head. But I do know what’s going through mine.”
His intense, smoldering, almost dangerous stare tells me exactly what’s going through his head.
I’ve seen it in movies, but I’ve never once had the urge to swipe everything off a table, climb onto it, and crawl my way to the man on the other side.
But I’m doing it now. In my head. In my momentary fantasy.
The uber-erotic one that has us getting naked and sticky.
Sticky with syrup. Oh, Lord… and whipped cream.
Scraping of chair legs on the floor pulls me back into reality. Carter puts his plate in the sink, hovering longer in that spot than I would expect. When he turns around, I don’t miss how his sweatpants are slightly tented with the outline of his penis.
He follows my gaze as I blatantly stare. Then he strides over behind me, puts his hands on my shoulders, leans close to my ear, and whispers, “Nobody has ever looked at me the way you just did.” He gives me a squeeze then disappears down the hall.
I want to disappear too. In him.
Instead, I clean up after my daughter, put away the leftovers, tidy up the kitchen, then go downstairs and use my phone to search for the nearest branch of my bank.