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Wide blue eyes. Parted lips. Kenzi jumps back like a surfer who’s come nose to nose with a great white. “Shiting hell, Mylo!”
A chuckle drags from my throat, what happened last night momentarily sidelined by the exasperated look on her face.
She presses her fingers to her forehead, takes a deep breath, then lifts her chin and meets my stare head on. “Seriously? I don’t have time for this.” Her gaze flicks down with a flutter of her eyelashes as she surveys the mess around us.
Papers and plans litter the floor. I sink to a squat before she does. Only then do I notice what she’s wearing. A sleeveless, pale yellow all-in-one pants and top suit thing, loose legs, the top half just tight enough to skim the curve of her hips, and the swell of her… I clear my throat and concentrate on picking up the papers as she sinks down to pick up the folder by her feet.
The last paper I pick up is a quote from a contractor I have had the displeasure of meeting. I’m still staring at it as I stand.
She holds her hand out for them, her bottom lip pulling between her teeth.
“Plan B?” I straighten the pile, then hand them over.
“Something like that.” Her smile is tight as she slips them back into the folder.
I scratch my chest. “I’d go with a different contractor.” I lift my chin to her plan B. “Even I know that guy’s reputation.”
A line appears between her eyebrows and her smile gets even tighter. “That’s why I’ve got quotes from two others.” She doesn’t need to add that it’s got nothing to do with me. It’s written all over the coldness in her stare.We’re not friends. We never were.
“Kenz, about last night—”
“You should probably pick up your phone.Cara’sstill on the line.”
Shit. I sink down to pick it up from where it’s landed face up by the open toes of her leather sandals. Cara’s name written clear across the lit-up screen. Shit.
Kenzi’s already heading for the elevator when I lift it to my ear.
“Mylo? Who was that? Are you with another woman?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. “What? No. It’s nobody.” When I open them again, the downward tilt to Kenzi’s mouth as the elevator doors slide closed is impossible to miss. “I really have to go. What do you need?”
“I need you to sell me your half of the house.”
“What?” My frown is instant. When I left, she assured me she couldn’t afford to buy me out. It’s the reason we put the house up for sale in the first place.
“I’m with someone. He wants to buy you out.”
I sigh hard and drag my hand down my beard. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll get my lawyer to draw up the papers. Anything else?”
“That’s it? You have nothing else to say?”
“That’s it.”I don’t have to be there to know that her lip is curled. She always did like to be chased. “Anything else?”
“I… I’m pregnant.”
That I was not expecting. I pull in a breath and flick my stare up to the ceiling. I shouldn’t be surprised. It was the main reason she left me. She wanted kids. I didn’t know if I could give her any. I scratch my forehead. “Congratulations. Do I know the guy?”
“Mylo. Yes… I… I shouldn’t have… It’s Rob, we didn’t want to tell you like this.”
“It’s fine, Cara. I’m happy for you.” I don’t push her to tell me more. It doesn’t matter. Rob’s a good guy, a good Marine, and a good friend of mine at one point. “My lawyer will be in touch. Take care of yourself.”
ELEVEN
Kenzi
I’m nobody. I twist the key to open Florence’s lock box and pull the seat up, my heartbeat too pronounced in my chest, my cheeks hot.Nobody. It shouldn’t hurt. I don’t care. I sigh and look up to stop the stupid tears. The sun is shining. I have a plan. I don’t care if the man I’ve slept with for the better part of two weeks, the man who kissed me in the hospital and made hot cocoa for me and rubbed lotion on my burn thinks I’m nobody.
The security door to my building slams closed as I pull my helmet out of the space beneath the seat. Mylo stalks down the cobbled walkway toward our building’s designated parking lot. Towards me. I don’t dare look up, just concentrate really hard on putting my folder and purse into the now empty compartment, then banging the seat back down.
