Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
“Oh, great,” he muttered acerbically. “King James has arrived, here to lord it over his lowly subjects.”
“It’s not like your father is any better,” Kenny retorted defensively. Smith’s parents weren’t great. His mother was a shallow woman, obsessed with clinging to her youth, and oozed disapproval of practically everything about Kenny, including the way she dressed, behaved, and spoke. Her nose wrinkled—an amazing feat for a woman whose skin was tighter than the proverbial drum—in distaste any time she saw Kenny.
His father was cut from the same cloth as her father—both powerful, wealthy, influential men. But while James Hawthorne was bombastic, charismatic, and made his presence felt in every room he entered, Patrick Jenson was quiet, slyly manipulating those around him to bend to his will. Kenny much preferred her father’s bull in a china shop approach. At least you saw him coming. A man like Patrick Jenson could stab you in the back before you even knew he was there.
“My father doesn’t try to bully everyone in his immediate vicinity into submission,” Smith snorted dismissively.
“Because he’s too busy searching for weaknesses to exploit,” she said with a snide smile. His brow lowered and she tilted her chin in challenge.
He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by her father.
“Kenny, are you avoiding me, lass? You don’t have a hug or a smile for your old man?”
She turned to face her tall father with a weak smile and was engulfed in his familiar, comforting warmth. Her father wasn’t often physically demonstrative, which always made his rare hugs something to be treasured.
Ever since Nox’s meltdown at Kenny’s engagement party nearly a year and a half ago, their father had been putting in more effort with Kenny and her brothers. Nox had disappeared after that, not even showing up to Kenny or Gideon’s weddings. He’d made a brief reappearance into their lives a few weeks ago, after Niall’s unexpected nuptials, but gone off the grid again afterward.
The entire mess had made their father a lot more thoughtful and kinder in his dealings with them. As if he was finally starting to see them as independent human beings rather than mere extensions of himself.
The hug ended quickly and he stepped back with an embarrassed harrumph before hilariously and awkwardly tousling her hair.
His eyes homed in on Smith, and narrowed as he noted Smith’s already inebriated state.
“Jenson,” he said with a curt nod. Smith, who suddenly appeared much drunker than she knew he was, lifted his glass carelessly, sloshing some of the liquid over the sides in the process.
“James.” Why was he slurring? He hadn’t been slurring a minute ago. There was flinty glint in his eyes and a bullheaded set to his jaw. And she realized that he was deliberately trying to wind her father up.
Her father glowered at Smith, but pursed his lips and said nothing. Fortunately he was distracted by Beth a moment later and left to join the other woman and Gideon out on the patio.
“You’re being an ass,” Kenny said, rounding on Smith furiously.
“Hmm.” The velvety purr—accompanied as it was by the wicked tilt of his beautiful lips—did disturbingly fluttery things to her stomach. “I am, but all the fucks I’ve ever given fled the scene months ago.”
“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
“You won’t talk to me regardless,” he said with a careless shrug, before tossing back the rest of his drink. “Now if you don’t mind, I need another drink. I’m gonna need it to get through this fucking ordeal.”
He turned and sauntered away without a backward glance. Abandoning Kenny without a second thought.
She stood watching his broad back for a long while, despair settling over her like a thick, suffocating blanket. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so alone.
Chapter
Two
Kenny drifted through the rest of the evening in a daze. She spoke when spoken to, smiled and laughed on cue, but if pressed would not be able to recall a single conversation.
They were all seated in the tiny, cramped living room with plates perched on their knees.
The conversation was peppered with laughter and teasing commentary about Fern and Gideon’s recent interview on the Holmes@Home talk show. Kenny was only half listening, most of her focus going to her surly husband, who’d somehow managed to place himself as far away as possible from everyone else despite the limited seating space.
His head was down, eyes glued to his paper plate. He’d piled it high with food but didn’t seem particularly interested in eating any of it. It was only when his head snapped back up and his eyes narrowed on Fern that Kenny tuned into the conversation again. Fern was glaring at their father, while Niall who was incongruously seated at her feet—so uncharacteristic of her straitlaced oldest brother—had craned his head back to look at Fern. Her brother had a look bordering on adoration in his eyes.