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)
That was her talent.
“Kenny?” Tina’s concerned voice dragged her back to the present, and Kenny blinked, pasting a smile onto her face.
“This town is amazing. The people are so welcoming. I can see why you love it here.”
“You’re always welcome here too, Kenny,” Tina offered gently. “No matter what happens between you and my brother. I would love it if you visited us more.”
It was a lovely thought, but Kenny didn’t think she would realistically remain in contact with Tina after the divorce. It would be too awkward.
Too painful.
She smiled at Tina.
“Thank you, that means a lot, Tina. But I’m not sure how practical that would be.”
“Everything will be fine,” Tina murmured, not sounding very convinced. “You’ll see.”
Kenny wished she could believe that. But she was a pragmatic person. There was no fixing what she and Smith had broken.
Ever.
Chapter
Eighteen
Smith was trying his damnedest not to stare at Kenna. But it was hard to look away when she looked even more beautiful than usual tonight.
Of course, he’d always thought Kenna was beautiful no matter what, but seeing her in that summer dress was a revelation. The light green garment was flowy, with shoulder ties, and sprigged with tiny white flowers.
A far cry from the elegant trouser suits she liked to wear to work, and the only slightly less formal wide-legged slacks she preferred to wear at home.
Seeing her in this simple, sweet dress was a rare treat, and he couldn’t look away.
At least three of the nine goals he’d conceded in the first half of this terrible, terrible match had only happened because he’d been surreptitiously checking out his wife. She seemed so relaxed tonight. Free with her smiles and with her laughter.
She was fucking gorgeous.
“Hey. Hey, you…Jenson! Watch the goddamned ball, will you?” somebody yelled and Smith jerked his focus back on the game, where the second half had already begun.
Shit.
He looked up just in time to catch a ball right in the face.
The force of the shot whipped his head back, the ball bounced upward, and his hands instinctively reached for it even while his feet flew out from under him. But the ball was already gone, having bounced off his face, over his head, and across the goal line, where it rolled to a gentle stop just shy of the back of the net.
Smith, meanwhile found himself sprawled flat on his back, arms and legs spread, while he stared up at the starless night sky.
His face was on fire and throbbing unpleasantly. He prodded his teeth with his tongue, checking for any loose ones, but thankfully everything seemed intact.
Who the hell had taken that shot? Fucking Ronaldo? No teen should have that much power behind their kick.
“Shit, man! You okay?” Harris’s face popped into his field of vision. Grey’s identical, not-quite-as-concerned face appeared next to his brother’s. The other men and the kids all gradually came to huddle around his prone body as well, some faces concerned, others clearly fighting back laughter.
“You should’ve been paying attention, really,” Grey said without any real inflection in his voice. But his eyes, sparking with amusement, gave his feelings away.
“Shut up, Greyson. I’d love to see you do better.”
“Okay,” Greyson said with a shrug before unceremoniously bending down to tug Smith’s gloves from his hands. “I’ll stand in as your substitute. You need to ice”—he waved an airy hand at Smith’s face—“that.”
“Is it bad?” Smith asked, still trying to assess the damage, even though his face was mostly numb now.
“Let me have a look,” a familiar voice proposed from behind Spencer Carlisle’s bulk. The man moved aside and allowed Kenna to step into the circle of gathered players.
Smith made a soft protestation and struggled to sit up, but Harris got to his haunches and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Stay down, Smith. Let the doc take a look.”
Kenna graced Harris with one of the beautiful smiles that she’d been so lavishly dishing out all evening and sank to her knees on the damp grass beside Smith.
Well, this was fucking humiliating. And yet, Smith was so goddamned happy just to have her within touching distance again.
He met her eyes mutely, hoping that she had a smile to spare for him as well. But her face had closed up again. There clearly would be no smiles for him.
Her brows knit and her lips pursed as she did a swift visual assessment of his face.
“Is my nose broken?” he asked, still not able to feel much, but worried that it was worse than he’d initially thought.
She prodded delicately at the bridge of his nose and shook her head.
“It doesn’t appear to be, but you’re going to have a nasty bruise around your left eye.” Her fingers carefully pushed at the skin around his eye. “I don’t think you have a facial fracture though. Just a few broken blood vessels in and around your eye. Do you know what day it is?”