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)
Someone else might well have allowed the magic of the moment to erase any semblance of practicality, but she was thinking a lot more clearly now and yes, they needed to talk. Because she had a lot to say to him.
She remained silent as he bundled her out of the car and effortlessly carried her up the porch steps, musing that she was starting to enjoy the whole damsel thing a little too much.
She quickly unlocked the door after he carefully deposited her on the welcome mat, handling her like she was precious cargo.
“I’ll get you some towels,” she said as she went to work switching on lights.
Another crack of thunder made her yelp and jump a little. Because the town was situated between mountain and sea, each thunderclap echoed and rolled for at least thirty seconds before fading.
Even Smith swore shakily when the window panes rattled along with the thunder. The wind began to pick up, eerily whistling its way into the house via the sliver of space beneath the front door.
Their eyes met in mutual shock and unease.
“I’ve heard that the storms could get a bit intense in this part of the world,” Smith said. The first words he’d spoken after his decree that they should talk.
“I’ve heard that about winter here, but, I mean…” Kenny shrugged a little helplessly. “It’s late January.”
“Yeah.” He was starting to shiver a little now, and small puddles were forming around his feet.
“Um… I’m going to take a quick shower,” she said. “You can have one after me, if you’d like. To warm up.”
He nodded his appreciation.
“That would be great. I’m also pretty rank after the game. I don’t know how you can stand to be in the same room as me right now.”
Kenny actually didn’t mind the way he smelled. The mixture of aftershave, sweat, and rain was a heady combination, and if she wanted to kept a clear head during their talk, it was best for her sanity if he showered.
“You can borrow one of your old T-shirts and shorts, if you’d like?” she suggested, choosing not to respond to his previous comment.
“Exactly how many of my T-shirts and shorts have you stolen?”
“I haven’t stolen them, merely acquired them. Via the laundry.”
“It’s blatant theft, and you know it.”
She eyed him askance, wondering how much of that disgruntlement was genuine.
Well, if they were going to have this talk, they might as well ask a baseline question the way polygraph testers did.
“Are you really pissed off about the T-shirts?” she asked.
His eyes homed in on her face and she could tell the blunt question surprised him.
His gaze turned inward as he considered it and then shook his head, his lips tilting upwards.
“Not really. Honestly? I kind of like the idea of you sleeping in my shirts.”
“Even The Smiths shirt?”
“Especially The Smiths shirt.” His eyes took on a gleam of possessiveness that stole her breath away.
“Because it has your name on in?”
“Yeah.” His voice roughened, deepened, while his pupils dilated until a splinter of green was all that remained of his irises. “In fact, it would be perfect if we could somehow erase the The and add an apostrophe in front of the second s.”
His eyes were dark and turbulent as the storm raging outside.
Kenny gnawed at her bottom lip.
Okay, then. Baseline set.
“Why do you like wearing them?”
She stared at him, wide-eyed, caught in a trap of her own making. She couldn’t blame the man for wanting his own baseline.
“I started wearing them shortly after you moved out of our room,” she admitted. “The first one did accidentally find its way into my laundry. But after that, I admit, my means of acquiring them involved sneaking around and larceny. Not my finest moments. But I liked wearing your shirts. They comforted me. Made me feel close to you.”
As baselines went, it was a doozy.
Way too nakedly honest.
Kenny felt exposed, stripped bare of every defense. But defense was overrated. All her defenses had done for her in the past was keep her isolated from everything and everyone.
She kept her chin up and her eyes on his face, watching for any signs of displeasure or rejection.
There was none. There was just a spasm of raw emotion on his face. It looked like pain and she hated that. Hated that she’d somehow hurt him, even if she didn’t know how.
Hurting him had never been her intention.
“I was right fucking there, Kenna. You didn’t need my shirts to feel close to me.”
“You moved out of our room,” she reminded, voice low and teeming with remembered pain.
“Christ, what a fucking mess this is,” he muttered and raked a hand through his wet hair. The gesture reminded Kenny of how soaked they both were. The cold was starting to seep into her bones, despite the relative warmth and humidity in the air.