It was a talent she’d always envied and been drawn to.
Now, as she watched his face light up with a smile, she resented it. Hated how that warmth still drew her in. She was the moth to his flame and she needed to stop placing herself in his radius because she was heartily sick of her wings getting singed.
She was a goddamned masochist was what she was.
His eyes lifted and met hers. And that warm smile faded from his lips.
Because that’s what Kenny did. She stole the smile right off his face. Robbed it from his eyes.
That washertalent.
“Kenny?” Tina’s concerned voice dragged her back to the present, and Kenny blinked, pasting a smile onto her face.
“This town is amazing. The people are so welcoming. I can see why you love it here.”
“You’re always welcome here too, Kenny,” Tina offered gently. “No matter what happens between you and my brother. I would love it if you visited us more.”
It was a lovely thought, but Kenny didn’t think she would realistically remain in contact with Tina after the divorce. It would be too awkward.
Too painful.
She smiled at Tina.
“Thank you, that means a lot, Tina. But I’m not sure how practical that would be.”
“Everything will be fine,” Tina murmured, not sounding very convinced. “You’ll see.”
Kenny wished she could believe that. But she was a pragmatic person. There was no fixing what she and Smith had broken.
Ever.
Chapter
Eighteen
Smith was tryinghis damnedest not to stare at Kenna. But it was hard to look away when she looked even more beautiful than usual tonight.
Of course, he’d always thought Kenna was beautiful no matter what, but seeing her in that summer dress was a revelation. The light green garment was flowy, with shoulder ties, and sprigged with tiny white flowers.
A far cry from the elegant trouser suits she liked to wear to work, and the only slightly less formal wide-legged slacks she preferred to wear at home.
Seeing her in this simple, sweet dress was a rare treat, and he couldn’t look away.
At least three of the nine goals he’d conceded in the first half of this terrible,terriblematch had only happened because he’d been surreptitiously checking out his wife. She seemed so relaxed tonight. Free with her smiles and with her laughter.
She was fuckinggorgeous.
“Hey.Hey, you…Jenson! Watch the goddamned ball, will you?” somebody yelled and Smith jerked his focus back on the game, where the second half had already begun.
Shit.
He looked up just in time to catch a ball right in the face.
The force of the shot whipped his head back, the ball bounced upward, and his hands instinctively reached for it even while his feet flew out from under him. But the ball was already gone, having bounced off his face, over his head, and across the goal line, where it rolled to a gentle stop just shy of the back of the net.
Smith, meanwhile found himself sprawled flat on his back, arms and legs spread, while he stared up at the starless night sky.
His face was on fire and throbbing unpleasantly. He prodded his teeth with his tongue, checking for any loose ones, but thankfully everything seemed intact.
