Kenzi sent up another prayer that the table would collapse under his weight, covering him in cake and frosting him with embarrassment. The table held and she glanced heavenward, wondering if God was amused, because she certainly wasn’t. “I thought you didn’t want the world to know you had a child.” She tapped her toe, waiting for an answer.
“’Aven’t you heard? Babies are all the rage in the kingdom now, thanks to Princess Kate. Even American ones.”
“You’re slime. And you don’t deserve your daughter.”
“Aw, come on, luv. Is that any way to talk to the man who put a ring on your finger?”
A shadow fell over Kenzi’s shoulder. She glanced up to see Nash standing just behind her. His chest heaved and grew larger in an instant. He picked up Kenzi’s left hand and brought it to his lips, where he kissed the giant diamond Aunt Pamela provided for the ceremony. “You were saying something?” he asked Clyde.
Clyde came to attention. “What’s this?”
“A man who follows through and says ‘I do.’” Kenzi gave Nash a thankful look before turning up the smugness factor for Clyde. “I’m not surprised you don’t recognize a real man when you see one, Clyde.”
Nash wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her side. His strong fingers were firm and warm, and she liked the feel of them way too much.
“What did she do, dangle her money in front of you?” Clyde sneered.
Kenzi didn’t have a retort, considering she had hired Nash.
“Or, let me guess.” He brushed the side of his mouth with his thumb.
Kenzi gagged, thinking of the times she’d kissed his fish lips. What had she been thinking?
“She spouted off about her silly family legacy—of farmers.” He smirked at her. “So quaint.”
“Where did you say you were from?” Nash asked.
“England.”
“Oh—that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Your inability to understand when you’re not wanted.” He glanced down at Kenzi. “Should I write a declaration, or do you just want me to haul his sorry butt out of here?”
Kenzi considered her options—hauling him out being at the top of her list. He might not be the world’s greatest father by any stretch of the imagination, but he was Hattie’s father, and he did have certain rights. One of which would be to sue for full custody if he got wind of Lunette’s alcoholism. He could cart Hattie off to England and her darling niece would be stuck in a cold boarding school for nine months out of the year. She shuddered at the thought.
Clyde was not deterred by Nash’s show of force. “Oh, the wit of an American. I don’t think you’d be so funny if I came back with a bobby. I have a legal right to see my daughter.”
“Ifyou make arrangements in advance,” reminded Kenzi.
“I called this morning and talked to Lunette. She extended an invitation.” He licked his already overly wet lips. “She’s always been accommodating.”
Kenzi exchanged a knowing look with Nash. That explained Lunette’s binge and made it all the more important that they kept Clyde happy enough that he didn’t suspect a thing. “Fine. Go spend some time with your daughter.” She motioned toward the kids’ tables, where Hattie and the redhead were thick as thieves, their heads close together as they whispered behind their hands. A half dozen other children sat at the table, making a mess and having a good time of it.
Clyde scanned the gathering. His eyebrows puckered.
Nash crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you even know what she looks like?”
“Of course I do. She doesn’t lookBritishenough to be my child.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Kenzi muttered. For all Lunette’s faults, she had somehow managed to smother Clyde’s genes and give Hattie her beauty. It was a testament that her sister was stronger than her addiction. At least, that’s what Kenzi hoped.
“Go on, then.” Nash jutted his chin towards the table.
Clyde ambled that direction at an embarrassingly slow pace. When he was just a few feet from the table, he called her name. Hattie’s head snapped up and she stared at him. He knelt down and threw open his arms. “Come on, duckie.”
Hattie glanced at her friend before slowly swinging her legs over the bench.
