Chapter Twenty-Four
Kenzi glanced around the patio at the hostile and pinched faces until she found Lunette and Hattie. Hattie was dressed in a smart little aqua and pink outfit with white lace around the cuff of her shorts. Her hair was slicked into pigtails high on her head, and then the curls fluffed out like pompoms.
Lunette was as clear-eyed as her daughter. Who knew what methods Raquel used to make that happen? One of these days, Kenzi was going to have to ask her sister about that, but the weekly extended family brunch wasn’t the place.
Grandma held court near the buffet tables. Aunt Trudy and Uncle Rob hung close. The only time they ever saw Grandma was in the spring, when they left their small town in Montana for a month-long visit. Uncle Rob was an accountant, and he’d taken May off—after tax season—for as long as Kenzi could remember. They’d extended their trip for the funeral but would be leaving soon.
Raquel was on the other side of the patio from Grandma. They were all still smarting from her verbal lashing. That was another thing Kenzi wanted to talk to Raquel about. Who was Grandma to say they weren’t supposed to be friends? That was judgmental and mean. No one told Kenzi who she could and could not be friends with.
Kenzi about tripped over her thoughts as the next one came right on the previous one’s heels. What if Grandma was trying reverse psychology on them? The old girl was just crafty enough to come up with a devious plan and follow it through.
Kenzi headed toward the fruit spread. The caterer had created a beautiful summerflowerarrangement made completely out of fruit. She selected several blooms and a small container of yogurt. Her head was too full for her to care too much about what she ate.
Nash had disappeared yesterday and only reappeared in time to escort her to the patio. He had slept in the house; she’d heard him in the bathroom sometime after she went to bed. Their conversation stuck to her brain like peanut butter on toast. In between sending unanswered texts to Lunette and researching addiction recovery centers, she’d pondered Nash’s statement about his family being better off without him. He did have a certainbad boyquality—even with his clean-cut looks—that she had a hard time putting her finger on. He wasn’t dangerous to her, except in the way he made her heart accelerate. Rapid palpitations made her do things like lean into his touch and invite him to kiss her.
At the moment, Nash talked with Aunt Pamela at the center table. Kenzi considered heading their direction and breaking up the conversation. She wasn’t keen on the idea of Nash getting another contract with Pamela. He was her husband and should stay that way until the two of them decided it was time to call it quits—if they decided to end the marriage.
If someone were to ask her right now if she was looking forward to being single again, she’d say no in a heartbeat. Oddly enough, an arranged marriage was the healthiest relationship she’d ever been in. Nash opened doors for her, helped her out of a car, defended her honor and her chance at CEO, and he was pretty nice to look at too. Add to that the way he made her feel like she was more than she’d been before she met him, and you could say she might be falling in love.
“Are you going to stand there and stare at Nash or eat?”
Kenzi jerked from her thoughts and stared down at the plate in her hands. She couldn’t even remember picking it up. Nor did she recollect filling it with fruit and a small container of yogurt. Harrison looked at her expectantly.
“Neither—I’m going to hound you for an answer to my question about a certain groom with certain qualifications.”
He looked both ways, making sure no one was close. In this case, everyone was close. “Then I suggest we move way over there.” He pointed out a table that was set so close to a shrub, the plant looked as though it was a guest.
Kenzi led the way, weaving through the tables so she could pass Nash. She let her hand run along his shoulder and across his neck. He glanced up at her, and she winked.
He blinked, caught off guard. She mentally put a tally mark on her side of the scoreboard. It wasn’t often that she got the drop on Nash—she loved every shade of pink his cheeks turned on their way to red.
Harrison nudged her on.
They made it to the table and took a moment to arrange their plates and silverware. A server appeared with two tall glasses of water and tumblers of orange juice. Kenzi said thank you before taking a sip of water.
“What have you been able to find out?” She kept her face neutral. Like a spy, her body language had to appear casual, even though they were plotting her sister’s untimely marriage to a man she hadn’t met.
Harrison draped one arm over the back of his chair. “I went through our records. We’ve had a few cases like the one you mentioned.”
Kenzi wanted to rub her palms together. Instead, she speared a strawberry with her fork. “Oh?” The flavor burst over her tongue like a firework.
“In each case, the person entered the arrangement willingly and with the full use of their faculties.” He swiped his napkin across his mouth. “I’m sorry, Kenzi. I don’t see how your plan is ethical.”
Kenzi threw back the glass of orange juice, the acid burning her throat, though not as deeply as Harrison’s words burned her pride. “Ethical? No. Brilliant? Yes.”
Harrison frowned.
“Don’t judge me, Harrison. My sister’s losing what little control she had over her addiction, and my father just died of alcohol poisoning.”
“You’re right. I would be desperate too.”
Kenzi bit a leaf off of a cantaloupe daisy. Her shoulders fell forward. “If I promise not to make a decision when I’m wallowing in desperation, will that make you feel better?”
“What decision? I told you BMB won’t participate in marital subterfuge.”
Kenzi lifted an eyebrow. “And BMB is the only matchmaking service out there?”
Harrison shook his head. “Don’t do it, Kenz. The arranged marriage business is tricky at best. I don’t know how Aunt Pamela manages to make matches over and over again without screwing up, but no one comes close to her success rate.”
