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)
“You going tell him? Or should I?” The irritating twin asked enigmatically.
“Tell me what?”
“My good friend, Spencer Carlisle, has great sporting ambitions for this town,” Greyson intoned. “He improved the community sports field. Then he got sponsorships for the football, rugby, netball, and cricket teams.”
“Sounds like a paragon among men,” Smith said drily.
“His latest, purely unnecessary, improvement had him roping in the big hitters, Hollingsworth and Brand, for donations.”
“We’re big hitters too,” Harris interjected.
“We didn’t finance the Minitron,” Greyson reminded. “Hollingsworth was a silent investor, but Brand was all over that baby. I just think he likes seeing his name up in lights.”
“Will you fucking get to the point?” Smith snapped, then swore when he nearly cut himself with the potato peeler. “Why are you waffling on about this?”
“The point is that our tiny sports field has a size-appropriate big screen. And the game is usually live-streamed. Why? I don’t know. I think it has an audience of fifty on a good night. It also serves as an outdoor cinema for underserved communities on Friday nights, but that’s neither here nor there. Didn’t you notice it showcasing your every goalkeeping failure last night?”
His blood ran cold.
“What are you saying?”
“Our off-site camera operator, while filming the chaotic mass exodus, kiss-cammed you and Kenny.”
“Fuck.” Smith’s eyes helplessly tracked back to Kenna, not sure how she was going to take this news. “That… It was a private moment.”
Harris threw his brother a quelling glance. Greyson nodded and remained silent.
“Smith.” Harris’s voice was quiet, which only made the hairs on the back of Smith’s neck stand on end. “For some reason, boredom maybe, somebody uploaded the kiss onto a couple of social media platforms. And it’s gone a little viral.”
“A little viral?” Smith whisper-yelled, not wanting to alert Kenna. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“About half a million views in the last twelve hours.”
“Oh my fucking God.” Smith started to rake a hand through his hair, and nearly scraped the skin off his forehead because of the fucking damned peeler he was still clutching in his numb fingers. He tossed the thing aside with a clatter. Luckily, the sound didn’t draw the women’s attention.
“Look, it’s not that bad,” Harris said. “You’re married. It’s not like that couple who got caught cheating.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Smith asked in confused impatience. “What couple?”
“Uh…nothing. My point is, you’re married, it’s a no harm, no foul situation.”
“It was an intimate moment between my wife and I,” Smith choked out. “Kenna’s intensely private, and she’s going to hate this. Can we have it taken down?”
The brothers exchanged glances and Greyson’s mouth tightened. He shook his head slightly, his expression sympathetic.
“Smith, you know that’s not how the internet works,” Harris told him. “It’s been shared thousands of times across platforms. It’s taken on a life of its own.”
“Why would anyone care? It was just a kiss. But it was ours. Ours alone. Our moment.”
“I’m so sorry, man,” Harris muttered, squeezing his shoulder.
Smith looked up, and saw Kenny leaning forward to listen to something Clara was telling her. She was smiling at the little girl, and nodded when the toddler took her hand.
Smith’s heart turned to warm goo when Kenny followed Clara to the little plastic table in the corner of the room where Piper and Flopsy, the dog, were already seated. She gracefully folded her tall, lithe body almost in half to sit down on one of the tiny chairs.
She was wearing another one of those pretty summer jumpsuits, dark blue, with flowy wide legs, and off-the-shoulder sleeves. She’d kicked off her shoes at some point and her bare toes peeked out from beneath trouser legs that—without the heels she’d been wearing—pooled around feet.
He wasn’t sure how she was going to react to this news. He didn’t want her upset or humiliated.
He raked a hand through his hair and focused on Grey.
“I’ll sue the bastard who filmed it in the first place.”
“He’s just a kid with a laptop, man,” Greyson said. “One of Spencer’s youth center teens. It’s Spencer’s way of keeping him involved in the matches. Lukhanyo—the boy—is frail and bedbound. So he monitors the cameras and manages the live stream from his home. Bright kid.”
Smith screwed his eyes shut in frustration.
“If it’s any consolation,” Harris ventured tentatively, “the reactions have all been overwhelmingly positive.”
“It’s not,” Smith said with a scowl. “It was nobody’s business.”
“I get that, but you were kissing her in a very public space, Smith.”
“No fucking privacy in the goddamn world anymore,” Smith griped with a resigned shake of his head. His eyes drifted to Kenna again, and despite his agitation, a soft, helpless smile tugged at his lips. Piper had curled up in Kenna’s lap, a sippy cup in her mouth, and seemed to be dozing off. One of the toddler’s plump hands was wrapped around a strand of Kenna’s hair.