This. This is why I love spending time with him. He makes me feel good from the inside out, and he’s probably unaware he’s doing it, but the subtle shift from friendly Kennedy to …thisperson couldn’t be more obvious.
I feel the way his eyes always find me. The way he gravitates as close as possible—like now—and his vibrating energy for more matches my own.
Like I know if I leaned in and kissed him, he’d kiss me back, but I made the first move once.
Next time is on him.
If he’s really determined to ride out this no-dating rule that he’s set for himself, then I’ll ride it out too. All the while making it as hard for him as possible. It’s his choice, but I never agreed not to tip the odds in my favor.
“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” His voice is half a pitch deeper than usual, and the familiarity of it makes me want to lean in closer. Who am I kidding? Everything about him makes me want to lean in closer.
It can’t be me though.
I lift my shoulders, trying to look cute while I do it. I’m not sure that I’ll ever pull off flirty, but I’ll do whatever I need to in order to keep Kennedy hooked.
It’s almost predictable the way he opens his mouth to suggest we hang out, but the sound of a car reaches us before he can speak.
And like that, our cozy bubble pops.
“Hart back already?” he asks, leaning forward to see the entrance to Old End, and it doesn’t take long for the white SUV to appear. “Weird. But I guess that’s our cue to?—”
He cuts off when Hart isn’t alone. A shiny silver thing trails behind, and when Hart pulls off the road, it parks alongside him.
Kennedy and I exchange a confused look before he breaks away from me to see what’s going on. And I’m left frozen to the spot, not sure if I’m supposed to follow him or wait here.
Hartwell is hard for even me to get a read on, then add a complete unknown to that, and walking over there feels impossible. Especially with the further Kennedy gets from me.
Approaching a group of people? Having themwatchas I get closer? No, thank you.
I’d rather electrocute myself.
But then, is it any more awkward than hovering here, at a weird distance, and staring at them?
Fuck me.The only thing that stops me from tugging at my hair is the fear it might draw their attention. Why am I like this? Why am I so set to sabotage myself that Iknowwalking over there won’t be a big deal, but in my brain, it’s a very, very big deal?
I clench my jaw at the building frustration and duck back between the houses before I’m seen. Hudson’s likely to join them soon, and I can just picture him walking past and questioning why I’m spying on people.
Error. Error. Error.
In a split second of self-preservation, I duck back inside. I’ll pretend like I wasn’t interested in the mystery visitor, and if Kennedy wonders where I’ve gone, he’ll find me here working, and it will look like the most normal thing in the world.
After all, it’s the whole damn reason I’m in town to begin with.
I’m supposed to be here.
It makes sense.
It’s not until I’m sheltered from view inside the building, the dull murmur of voices outside too low for me to make out, that I remind myself to breathe. Kennedy won’t be gone long. Then we can pick up where we left off.
Minutes pass, and I try not to get antsy. Or curious.
Who the hell did Hart bring with him?
Another tradesperson to help with the houses? They have me to cover the electrical, but maybe a plumber? What if they’re an asshole?
While I wait, I might as well get my curiosity under control. I check down the side of the house to make sure that Kennedy isn’t back yet before I creep through the inside, stepping around the frames of partially built walls. The windows on the front of the house are mostly boarded up, but some of them aren’t flush, and sunlight peeks through the gaps.
I choose the biggest one to spy from.
