Something About a Hot Guy

My sister was crazy protective over her. I got why. Those nasty bitches in high school couldn’t exactly be considered nice. I’d gone to bat for her more than a couple of times, though I doubted it made any difference. Mean girls were always mean girls. Fucking sucked, but that was the life of high school, wasn’t it?

But we weren’t in high school anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time. And Kenna? Even amid all that bullshit? She’d still been generous to everyone. Kind and considerate and thoughtful. Going out of her way to make someone smile.

Yeah.

She was drop-dead gorgeous. The kind of girl that would make me trip all over myself. But it was her humility that had always made her shine. It was the way she’d stop to take care of a stranger without thought. The way she’d go out of her way to do the right thing, without asking for anything in return.

She was the real deal.

A scowl pulled to her adorable face, turned-up nose and full cheeks, a pink bow for lips.

She laughed a disbelieving sound. “You don’t have to pity me, Kyle. I get it. And I’m fine. Just . . . go do your thing, and I’ll do mine. I’ll be sure to get out of your way as soon as I can.”

This time, I did grab her hand, holding it tight. Heat licked and flamed. I was a second from losing it, confessing every fucking thing that I kept bottled up tight. “I’m not here to kick you out of your own damn apartment. You’re staying.”

She pried her hand free, a look I couldn’t make out crossing her face. “One of us is leaving.”

I guessed she really did hate me. Had no idea what I’d done, but I’d seen the way she’d looked at me for all those years.

Like just being in my presence made her want to puke.

Let me tell you, it made a teenaged boy feel super awesome. Did wonders for his self-confidence.

While other girls were throwing themselves at me, the one I wanted wouldn’t even look me in the eye. On some level, I got that she was shy, but the man in me hadn’t gotten it at all.

Frustration bled into my bones, and I edged up closer, getting right in her face. “Sorry, cupcake, but that’s not gonna happen. This is your home, and you’re not going anywhere. And I’m not going anywhere, either. Get used to it.”

A smirk ticked up on the corner of my mouth, and I tried to lighten the mood that was feeling far too heavy. “Besides, what would I do with all this pink shit?”

Hesitation brimmed around her before a small smile was pulling at the corner of her mouth. “I guess I would have to take it with me. Although I’m pretty sure your sister would fight me over it. You know how much she hates people messing with her things.”

For the first time, there was a softness to her words, and it made me feel like a king that maybe my attempt had worked.

“I bet she would. Every time I even touched her toys as a kid, she lost her mind.” Affection filled my voice. “You’d have thought I’d started a world war when I hid her Barbie dolls.”

A hint of amusement touched her cheeks, her shyness so damn sweet. “I’m pretty sure that might have had something to do with the fact that when we found them, they all were wearing the wrong heads. Poor Ken had boobs.”

“Never said I wasn’t creative.”

“Creative? I’d call that psychotic. Dismembering poor, innocent dolls. Isn’t that a sign of a horrible disorder?”

God, she was cute when she was playful. When she let go a little bit.

I could feel the wistful grin tugging at my mouth as I stared down at her. Getting lost in those brown eyes, in the way they flitted over my face, jumping from my eyes to my mouth and away, like she didn’t know where to look.

Shit, I wanted to lean in closer. Drink her in.

Dip in. Dive in.

I edged closer. Closer and closer.

Fuck.

If I erased any more space between us, I’d be crawling on top of her, pushing her over a line she clearly didn’t want me crossing.

I stood before I did something stupid.

“So . . . what do you want to do today?”

Smooth, Kyle. Smooth. You’d think I was back to being fifteen rather than a twenty-seven-year-old man. But when it came to Kenna? The rules went out the window. The girl different than any other woman I’d dealt with before.

Her attention darted to the computer sitting on the coffee table. Almost like she was terrified of it. She peeked up at me. “I have work to do.”

Right.

Vanessa had told me Kenna taught on-line school because she had trouble standing in front of a group of people. Fucking sucked. I mean, I respected her choice. Got it on some level. But it had to be brutal, completely exhausting, letting your fears rule your life.