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Pops: I need to meet this Kenna. I’ve heard so many good things.
I groaned, walking into my bedroom to get dressed in another set of work clothes.
Me: You been talking to Harley again?
Pops: Damn right. Gotta keep an eye on my son. Why don’t you invite Kenna over for dinner this week so I can meet her?
Fully dressed, I sat on the bed and dropped my head. Unease added to the guilt of keeping my secret from Kenna. This attraction to her confused me. I’d sowed my wild oats years ago when I’d been on tour. Ever since coming to Sunshine Key, I’d kept to myself, only indulging in a few unemotional trysts with a couple women over the last ten years who understood that was all I could offer. Why all of a sudden did I feel this pull to Kenna? A relationship was the last thing I wanted and it would be the last thing Kenna wanted if she knew my true identity. Yet literally all of that would not stop me from going over to her house today and soaking up every second of her attention.
Me: I’ll look at my calendar.
Which we both knew was code for never. I slid the phone in my pocket and headed out in my truck to pick up bagels and coffee. Kenna had her hair piled on top of her head and another old T-shirt on when she answered the door. She also traded the ugly shorts for the new cutoff jean shorts that made me weak in the knees. I groaned and she cocked her head.
“What?” She swiped at her cheeks like she thought something was on them.
I thrust the bag of bagels at her. “Here,” I snapped, entering the house and shutting the door behind me. She shot me a glare, but turned to walk into the kitchen. My gaze immediately dropped to her ass and I groaned again.
“You know, you don’t have to help me today,” Kenna said, her hands on her hips after she put the bagels down on the hideous counter and turned toward me.
I sucked in a lungful of air and put my hands on her hips where they itched to slide around to the back and grab a handful of her flesh. How did this woman get prettier every single day? Currently, she was glaring at me, but even that made my insides heat.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. And if I want to groan about your perfect ass in those shorts, then I’ll do that too.” My voice wasn’t much more than a desperate growl.
Her mouth opened and closed. I watched her barely sun-kissed cheeks take on a pink hue. Her hands landed on my chest, but she didn’t push me away. “Try not to stare too hard.”
Then she winked and walked around me, heading for the paint station we’d left in front of the fireplace, an extra swing in those hips just for my benefit. I groaned and slumped against the countertop. Kenna, with a newfound confidence bubbling to the surface, was hard to resist.
We did manage to paint the primary bedroom and the bathroom downstairs before Kenna sighed and set down her paintbrush. “I think we need a break.”
My brain instantly went to how I could get Kenna into a skimpy swimsuit for a repeat of what happened on my boat, but Kenna had other ideas. “Let’s get cleaned up and go to that place I saw a block away from Sunshine and Seashells.”
“Dad Bod Watering Hole?” I liked the bar, don’t get me wrong, but it didn’t seem like the kind of place Kenna would appreciate. There were old state license plates on the wall and tiki torches to light the dim patios. They were best known for their nightly karaoke. Not that I ever participated in that.
Kenna grinned and swiped a lock of hair out of her face, leaving a light gray streak of paint across her cheek. “Yeah. Harley said they have karaoke there.”
I was going to kill Harley one day. Probably soon. Of course he would suggest karaoke, knowing it would push my buttons to be around live music and not be able to sing.
Kenna dug her teeth into her bottom lip, looking sad for a moment. “You know, I never took breaks before.”
“I know.”
She gave me an odd look.
I thought back on those first days. “You had on a silk blouse buttoned up to your chin and black work slacks in the middle of a Florida summer. I figured you might have slept in your work clothes just so you were always ready when the boss called.”
She rolled her eyes, but didn’t disagree with my assessment. “And look what all that workaholism got me. A cheating husband, a cow for a boss, and never knowing my own aunt.”
I came over, pushing a wayward lock of hair behind her ear and kissing her forehead. “You’re not even halfway through your life yet, Kenna. You have time to figure out what you want.”
She tipped her head back to look up at me, mischief and excitement making her big blue eyes twinkle. “I want to drink a margarita, shake my ass, and take an afternoon off.”
I whimpered at the mental image of Kenna not only wearing those shorts to the bar, but dancing in them. She laughed and poked me in the gut. “Come on, salty. Take me to the bar!”
She looked so excited about her idea, I couldn’t turn her down.
Kenna was halfway through Dad Bod’s largest margarita, determination on her squinty face as she peered down into the glass.
“Are you sure there’s a flamingo at the bottom?”
