Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“Oh, you know, stopping to grab a bite to eat before heading home.” I cross my fingers behind my back so Trent can’t call me out on my lie. Oh, what the hell is wrong with me? I’m thirty-three, for crying out loud. I have a six-year-old daughter. Why the hell am I worried about what he has to say?
“That the story you’re sticking to? You want to tell me the truth, or do you wanna tell me the reason you were going nine rounds, beating up your car like you’re fighting Mike Tyson, Kennedy?” I can see I’m getting Detective Harthorne and not Trent at this point.
“I’ll plead the Fifth. It was great seeing you. We should do it again sometime, big guy.” He moves in closer, and my body gravitates toward him. The palm of my hand goes to his chest, tapping it lightly as I make to kiss his cheek. Only Trent Hawthorne moves at the last minute, and my lips land on his. I feel his hand grip my hip, fingers digging into the fleshy part of my ass, and then we’re a tangle of limbs as he works my mouth in a way I’ve never experienced before. Lips and tongues, hands and fingers, body meeting body. A full-on make-out session in a gas station parking lot. I can feel the effect I have on his body; the same could be said for myself. My core aches with a building desire as his length thickens behind the zipper of his black slacks.
“Trent.” His name slips from my lips, and just as I’m sliding my hand upward to wrap around his neck…
He pulls back.
“Fuck.” One simple word holds so much meaning. The locking of his body. The way he’s no longer looking at me. In fact, it’s anywhere but me. He’s locked me out. “We shouldn’t have.”
“Don’t, just don’t.” There’s only so much a girl can take until she’s done, and today, I’m done. I step back, hold my hand up, and shake my head, telling him in no uncertain terms to not continue.
“Get in the car, Kennedy. I’ll call a tow in for your vehicle, let Asher know that I’m bringing you home, and then let Mike know it’s being sent to his house.” I roll my eyes and spin around, giving him my back, then climb back in my car to get everything I need out of it. My phone, my purse, my lunchbox, and, of course, the big jerk face does the one thing that will melt my heart. He grabs Briar’s booster seat from the backseat without me having to ask him to. The tears I’m holding at bay slowly slide down my cheeks. I hurriedly try to blink them away. I’ll lick my wounds, drown out my sorrows, and cry myself to sleep. Right now, I only need to get through the next fifteen minutes, then I can lock myself away, turn my phone on silent, and figure out my life. I’ve got a daughter to provide for. The last thing I need is to cry over a man.
You never even cried over your daughter’s father. What does that tell you about this situation?
“You good?” Trent interrupts my moment of trying to pull myself back together.
“Yep,” I respond with one word, straightening myself up and out of the car, not bothering to lock it. He meets me around the back and guides me to his where he’s parked. We don’t say another word to one another, not when he helps me inside, not during the trip home, and not when we pull into my driveway. There’s nothing left to say. He’s said more than enough. My brother’s best friend is never going to see me as a woman even though his hard dick has an opinion on the subject.
1
KENNEDY
Present Day
“Are you ready?” I ask Briar as I walk into her room, putting the back of my earring on and tightening it. After that night weeks ago where my car officially died on me, I pulled up my big girl panties, walked over to Asher’s the next morning, and asked for a ride to our mom’s house. Everyone already knew the minute it happened. The non-stop vibrating of my phone in my pocket on the quiet ride home plus the calls that came after assured me the usual people knew my car broke down on me a-freakin-gain. When Asher pulled up at our mom’s, Mike’s head was already under the hood, and I knew with the look he gave me that no amount of patchwork would put my car back together again. That meant talking to Mom and asking to borrow her vehicle for a little while. She happily gave me the keys.
“Not yet!” She’s mumbling under her breath, probably picking out the very best outfit to wear tomorrow morning with Uncle Asher and Auntie Lennie.