benefit, I reached for Kennedy and I really wanted to hate the idea of touching her. I even conjured images of her sneering at me as she punched me in the face. The haughty lift of her eyebrow as she stepped off the creaky stair just hours ago. My finger throbbed in protest, but the more I stared at those lips, that hair, those eyes crackling with intensity as they glared down at me, the more something else throbbed. In my pants.
To cover my reaction, I shifted my weight and smiled as sweetly as possible and wiggled my fingers in a “Gimme” gesture. “Your turn, sunshine.”
Kennedy rolled her eyes, then heaved herself off the porch. She landed with a grunt, and the two of them sauntered away.
I doubled down on the asshole factor by admiring the curve of Penny Dreadful’s butt.
Now I had two reasons to love watching her leave.
Her personality and the cut of her jeans.
Chapter Eight
Kennedy
I felt Joe’s eyes on me as I headed to my car with Nan. They burned a hole in my back like two pinpricks of hellfire skating down my spine. With that in mind, I let my hips swivel more than I normally would. A little sexy. A little sassy. A whole lot out of his league. Take that, Joe Channing.
Do not turn around, Kennedy. Do not give him the pleasure of seeing he got to you. You’re strong. You know what you like and it’s not him.
Despite my inner warrior mantra of Joe-lessness, I turned around anyway.
Our gazes locked and while he forced a frown, the glint to his eye didn’t look upset in the least. In fact, he seemed delighted as he lifted one eyebrow, turned his back on me, and strutted away. Those jeans hugging those thighs and butt cheeks had my body rebelling. Such a shame to waste a good looking exterior like that on a man with a rotten core.
Nan chattered away as we drove out of her neighborhood. She talked about Carl and Delores. Judo and house repairs. Purposefully driving my attention away from Joe, I nodded and mmm-hmmm’d my way through the conversation. She was content, which warmed my heart, but I couldn’t understand why she was so resistant to putting her house on the market.
Moving into an apartment couldn’t erase Grandpa’s memories. It just wasn’t possible. They didn’t live in the house. They lived in her heart. Her soul. Her mind. As an added bonus, selling the place might even give her closure. She’d be forced to go through his things and come to terms with his passing in a way I wasn’t sure she had, even after twenty years.
Plus, if she decided to sell, Joe would be forced out of our lives.
Hot bod or not, that seemed like a very good thing indeed.
Or it should have. For some reason, the thought landed with less gusto than I expected.
With that in mind, I made a decision on the fly and detoured from our lunch destination. Ambushing my nan might have been a dick move, but if something happened to her, all alone in that house, I’d never forgive myself if I hadn’t done everything in my power to help her see my point of view.
“Okay, Kiki. Spill. What’s going on with you?”
I glanced at Nan, who wore her serious face like she’d earned her master’s in parenting. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you ‘whadaya mean’ me. You’ve been quiet since we left the house.”
“I’m just a little preoccupied.”
“You don’t say.” A smile transformed her face. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain scowling and shirtless handyman, would it?”
“What? Nan. No.” I shivered like I’d swallowed a handful of circus peanuts. Those violent orange candies weren’t fit for human consumption and I’d fistfight anyone who told me otherwise. That man…my subconscious flared its hands and shook its head without finishing the thought. I didn’t have a clue how to put him into context.
Never in my life had someone made me feel so…
…so…
…so everything.
He made me want to shake my fists, then grab him by the collar and shake him. He made me want to scream. To get up in his face and demand he explain what the hell was wrong with him.
Even with all that true, when I imagined grabbing him by the collar, sometimes I shook him, but other times I found myself wondering what color his eyes were up close. And my libido celebrated the idea of Joe making me scream…not because I