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)
This new relationship the two women were starting to forge made him uncomfortable on so many levels. But he knew better than to verbalize that thought. He valued his life too much.
Tina rolled her eyes at his question.
“Ricardo knows what he’s doing. That’s why he’s my manager. My staff is extremely professional. They can handle one evening without Libby and me. So six-thirty, Kenny?”
“I’ll be ready. What should I wear?”
“It’s Ralphie’s, so no need to dress up. Keep it casual.”
Before her arrival in Riversend, Smith would have laid even money on the fact that Kenna didn’t possess a single shred of clothing that could be described as casual. But he hadn’t seen her in any professionally tailored suits or designer dresses since her arrival.
Now he couldn’t help but wonder what her interpretation of keeping it casual would be.
Tina excused herself shortly after that.
Leaving Smith and Kenna to sit and stare at each other in awkward silence.
“I know you don’t think it’s a good idea for me to spend time with your sister,” she ventured.
“I simply don’t want her—either of you, actually—to get hurt.”
“She just seemed really excited,” Kenna said, tracing the geometric pattern on the white linen table cloth with her elegant forefinger. The same finger he’d been stroking mere minutes before.
“She did.”
“And I want to do it. Sing tonight, I mean.”
“You do?”
What the hell was going on with her?
“Yes, because I don’t think I’ll be very good at it.”
“Oh?” His response was wary. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that statement.
“It’s like you said, Smith,” she whispered, flattening her palm on the table, fingers splayed. “I only ever attempt things I know I’ll be good at. So maybe it’s time to try something different.”
Oh!
Well, fuck.
Chapter
Thirteen
“You really didn’t have to drive me back,” Kenny said as Smith brought his Land Rover to a stop in front of her sprawling, ugly rental property.
He put the car in neutral and turned to face her, one arm hooked around the top of his seat and the other draped over the steering wheel. It was such a sexy, utterly confident, masculine pose that she felt a little breathless as she stared back into that penetrating green gaze.
“No need to wait for a ride share when I was right there.”
“We’re meant to be seeing less of each other,” she reminded, breathlessness creeping into her voice. “Not more.”
“We can see less of each other after today,” he said with a nonchalant lift of his broad shoulders.
“Thank you for the ride,” she said.
The stilted politeness in her voice was met with a grave smile that didn’t travel to his eyes.
“You’re welcome.”
“So, I won’t have to text my schedule for tonight, I take it?”
“Ralphie’s. At six-thirty-ish,” he intoned. His right hand, dangling over the top of the steering wheel, waved slightly for emphasis and drew her gaze.
Her eyes sharpened and she reached for his hand with both of hers. She cradled the large, warm appendage gently and stared down at a slightly inflamed wound in the fleshy part of his palm.
“What happened?” she asked in horror as she assessed the injury with a trained eye. She gently prodded at the two puncture wounds about an inch apart at the base of his thumb.
She was a little shocked that she hadn’t noticed it before now.
“Is this a bite of some kind?” She’d seen a few snake bites while doing her ER rotation as a student doctor and while reminiscent of one, upon more thorough inspection, this didn’t appear similar to those.
He winced and shook his head, looking a little sheepish.
“I hooked myself fishing the other day.”
“Oh my God,” she gasped. “That’s awful. Did they give you a tetanus shot? Antibiotics?”
“They?”
“The attending physician,” she clarified, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at the caginess in his body language. His hand, however, remained in her grasp even though he could easily have pulled it away by now.
“Smith?” she prompted. “What did your doctor say?”
“I didn’t go to the doctor.”
“What? So who removed the hook? One of your fishing buddies?” Not ideal, but his friends were mostly competent guys.
“I was alone. I pulled it out. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“What?” She heard the dismay in her own voice as she once again assessed the wound, carefully checking for any signs of infection. While it was slightly warm to the touch, it did appear to be healing nicely.
“That was incredibly foolish, Smith,” she reprimanded. “Going fishing alone, for starters. And then tending to a potentially serious wound without consulting a doctor. You should at least have consulted a doctor about after care. What were you thinking?”
“Kenna.” His voice was annoyingly, condescendingly patient. As if he were speaking to a child, not a trained surgeon. “It was a shallow wound caused by a barbless hook. Easy enough to remove. I cleaned it thoroughly, slathered it with antibiotic ointment, and took a couple of ibuprofen. It hurt like a bastard for a few hours, but it’s mostly fine now.”