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)
“Don’t worry, Smith, you’ve made that abundantly clear,” she said, her voice wobbling alarmingly.
Don’t you dare cry, McKenna! she admonished herself sternly. She’d kept the worst of her emotions from this man for the entirety of their marriage. Her fear of vulnerability shut him out completely. Letting him see her fall apart now, when it was too late, would likely—quite justifiably—confuse and frustrate him.
He was already watching her with a baffled wariness that told her that he’d probably spotted that sheen of tears.
His hands fell from his hips and he took a small step toward her when Harris’s voice finally drew his regard from her.
“Smith, grab a spade will you?”
“On my way,” Smith replied, and Kenny watched as he retrieved a couple of spades from the back of his car and joined his friend who was standing beside her rental.
The two men stood staring at her sunken back tire, heads bent as they conferred with each other. Harris was pointing and Smith nodded as he decided that his friend’s plan of action was best.
Kenny pulled her legs into the car and shut the door, enjoying the blast of coolness from the functioning air conditioner, while continuing to watch the two men. Physically, they were evenly matched, tall, lean, clearly fit. Kenny knew that they used to play tennis together several times a week before Harris moved to Riversend to be with Tina. Harrison Chapman was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.
While Smith… Kenny’s gaze was helplessly drawn to her husband. Smith was ruggedly beautiful. His hair was longer than she’d ever seen it, making the copper highlights in that thick, wavy dark blond mane more obvious than usual. He was sporting at least three days’ worth of scruff on his strong, square jaw. The stubble glinted a lighter shade of blond than the hair on his head.
Everything about him was so heartbreakingly familiar, while simultaneously frighteningly different. She’d hoped that time and distance would soften the granite resolve she’d seen in him during their last conversation. Instead, that antipathy appeared to have solidified into loathing.
She’d heard it in his voice during their earlier phone conversation. But to actually see it…
The dull ache in her chest intensified into the sharp, vicious thrust of a sharp blade into her vulnerable flesh.
It took everything in her not to curl up in agony right there.
Keep it together, McKenna! She kept repeating the mantra over and over in her head, sometimes even whispering the words into the cool silence of the cabin.
It wasn’t helping. Her breathing became more ragged with each passing moment as she strove to maintain some semblance of composure.
She knotted her fingers together in her lap and kept her eyes trained on them, absently noting that her nails were a wreck, chewed to the quick and—thanks to the fact that she’d been unable to stop herself scratching at her bug bites—filthy from the grime that had collected on her skin. Her hands were always immaculate. Nails neatly trimmed, usually only sporting a clear varnish, and kept scrupulously clean. As a surgeon she was almost fanatical about it.
These hands, white knuckled and filthy, looked like they belonged to a total stranger. Everything about her felt unfamiliar. Alien. Too many swirling, painful emotions. The impulsivity of her decision to come here. The absolute devastation she felt in now knowing that her marriage was truly over and that Smith hated her. Smith, the only man she’d ever…
Her thoughts screeched to a halt.
Ever what?
She moaned. Not willing to finish the thought. Not now, when it was too late.
“Kenna!”
She jumped, head jerking up at the sound of his curt voice right beside her.
He was at the passenger side of the vehicle where he’d opened the door without her even noticing. She’d been so busy staring down into her lap, thoughts turned inward, that she hadn’t been paying attention.
“What? Sorry.”
“Did you fall asleep?” he asked, looking irritated and confused and concerned all at the same time.
“No. I was just thinking.”
His brow furrowed, as he stared at her skeptically.
“About wh—” He stopped then shook his head abruptly. “You know what? I don’t care. We’re done here and ready to leave.” They were? Already? How long had she been sitting here navel gazing and slowly unraveling? “Harris will follow us in your piece-of-shit rental.”
“Oh, no…” Her protest was automatic although somewhat foolish. “I can drive.”
His sighed, nostrils flaring slightly on the irritated, closed-mouth exhalation. “You’re not driving anywhere with that injury.”
“Oh. Of course. I wasn’t thinking.” He stared at her again for a long moment.
“You’re being surprisingly agreeable.”
It took a great deal of effort not to be offended by that statement.
“I’m tired and in pain. And you’re right, I can’t drive until after my toe has been assessed and treated. So there’s really no point in arguing.” Each word dropped from her lips like lead weights. She sounded as exhausted as she felt and the furrow in Smith’s brow deepened.