Reminders of Him(58)

I didn’t have to. I know Kenna, and she wouldn’t have taken a handout. “Just be careful with her, Roman. She’d do anything to be in Diem’s life.”

“Well, at least we agree on that part,” he says, right before disappearing into the stairwell to his apartment.

Fuck him.

Fuck him because he’s right.

As much as I can try to deny it, I’m not acting this way because I’m worried Kenna will stay in town longer. I’m upset because the thought of her leaving has me more on edge than the thought of her sticking around.

How did this happen? How did I go from absolutely loathing this woman to feeling something else entirely? Am I that pathetic a friend to Scotty? Am I that disloyal to Patrick and Grace?

I didn’t hire Kenna because I want her to leave. I hired her because I like being in her presence. I hired her because I think about kissing her again every time my head meets the pillow at night. I hired her because I’m hoping Patrick and Grace have a change of heart, and I want to be around if that happens.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


KENNA

My face is on fire when I back away from the door.

I heard every word Ledger said to Roman. I even heard some of the words he didn’t say.

I walk to the storage room and grab my bag as soon as I hear him walking up the back steps. When he opens the door, I can’t help but wonder what thoughts are going through his head when his eyes land on me.

Since the moment he offered me this job, I’ve been convinced it’s because he hates me and wants me to leave town, but Roman is right. He could pay me off and send me on my way if that’s really what he wanted.

Why am I still here?

And why is he warning Roman about me, like my intentions aren’t good? I didn’t ask for this job. He offered it to me. That he would think I’d use Roman to get to my daughter feels like a slap in the face, if that’s even what he was insinuating. I’m not sure what he was insinuating, or if he was just being oddly territorial over me.

“You ready?” Ledger asks. He flips off the lights and holds open the back door for me. As I pass him, there’s a different kind of tension between us. It isn’t a tension necessarily related to Diem anymore. It’s a tension that seems to exist simply because we’re in each other’s presence.

As we head to my apartment, I feel short of air. I want to roll down the window, but if I do, I’m worried he’ll know it’s because I can’t seem to breathe properly in his presence.

I glance at him a couple of times, attempting to be discreet, but there’s a new tightness to his jaw that isn’t usually there. Is he thinking about everything Roman said to him? Is he upset because he agrees, or upset because Roman was completely off the mark?

“Did you get served with the restraining order this week?” he asks.

I clear my throat to make room for the tiny no I speak out loud. “I googled it on my phone and read that it can take about one to two weeks for a restraining order request to process.”

I’m looking out my window when Ledger says, “You got a phone?”

“Yeah. A few days ago.”

He grabs his own phone and hands it to me. “Put in your info.”

I don’t like how bossy that seems. I don’t grab his phone. Instead, I look at it, and then at him. “What if I don’t want you to have my number?”

He pegs me with his stare. “I’m your boss. I need a way to contact my employees.”

I huff because I hate that he makes a valid point. I grab his phone and text myself so I’ll have his number, too, but when I save my information, I list myself as Nicole rather than Kenna. I don’t know who has access to his phone. Better safe than sorry.

I set his phone back in his phone holder as he pulls into my parking lot.

He swings open his door as soon as he kills his truck. He grabs the table, and I try to help him, but he says, “I’ve got it. Where do you want it?”

“Do you mind taking it upstairs?”

He heads that way, and I grab a couple of chairs. By the time I make it to my stairwell, he’s already heading back down to grab the rest of the chairs. He steps to the side, pressing his back against the railing to make room for me, but when I pass him, I can smell him. He smells like limes and bad decisions.

The table is propped up next to my apartment door. I unlock my door and then set the chairs next to the wall. I look out the window, and Ledger is grabbing the rest of the chairs from his truck, so I glance around my apartment to see if anything needs rectifying before he comes back up. There’s a bra on the couch, so I cover it up with a pillow.

Ivy is at my feet meowing, and I notice her food and water bowls are empty. I’m refilling them as Ledger taps on the door and then opens it. He brings the chairs and then the table inside.

“Anything else?” he asks.

I set Ivy’s water bowl down in the bathroom, and she goes straight for it. I close the door and shut her in the bathroom so she doesn’t try to escape through the open front door. “No. Thanks for the help.” I walk to the door so I can lock it after Ledger leaves, but he just stands by it, gripping the door handle.

“What time do you get off work at the grocery store tomorrow?”

“Four.”

“Our T-ball game should end around then. I can give you a ride, but I might be a little late.”