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Addy recounted Kenna’s injuries, and the men all stared at her face, usually incredibly beautiful, now a dark shade of purple marred by cuts and abrasions.
Once Addy finished, Kenna turned to him. “May we leave now?” she whispered.
He leaned over and looked at Tate. “Do you need us, Tate?”
Tate shook his head. “No. Thank you both for coming in.”
Without another word, Kenna stood and they walked out of the room, his hand once again at the small of her back.
Outside, the sun glowed in the sky and Kenna tilted her head back and closed her eyes as the sun warmed her skin. He did the same thing. “This feels good.”
“It does,” she agreed.
20
After the sun warmed their faces, Kenna reached over and took Spencer’s hand in hers. His gaze fell on her and he smiled.
She chuckled. “Are you finally ready to go home?”
“That I am. How about you?”
“Yeah. I’m ready. I can now let Ms. Smith know I’ve effected service on all parties.”
He nodded. “I’m proud of you. You’re badass.”
She chuckled. “Hardly.”
“Kenna, honey, your hands barely shook as you handed Kent those papers. You faced them, let them see your condition, and you didn’t flinch. Badass.”
“We have different ideas of what badass means.”
He escorted her to the truck and helped her in. This time when he reached over to buckle her seat belt, she put her hand on his shoulder. When he looked up into her eyes, she leaned in and kissed his lips lightly.
“Thank you, Spencer.”
“For what?”
“For taking care of me. For making me feel safe. For calling me badass.” Her smile was genuine. His heart thumped along happily.
He leaned forward and kissed her. She wanted to kiss him so much more, but he pulled away. He winked. “You are badass, and I love it.”
She giggled, and he strutted around the truck, feeling like a man with a great secret.
He pulled out of the sheriff’s department parking lot and drove toward the construction site to pick up her Jeep.
As he drove, he reached over and took her hand. She was twenty-eight years old, and she felt giddy holding hands with a boy. But he was so much more than a boy. He was a handsome man, and he made her feel safe and cared for like no one ever had in her life.
They pulled into the parking lot at the construction site, and he parked next to her Jeep. She waited for him to walk around and help her out. She’d never had a man do this for her in her entire life. In movies, she’d seen the women wait for the men to help them and she enjoyed the chivalry and manners. Many southern men still did this for their women. Her dad had always been gentlemanly with her mom. But when she dated Colt all those years ago, he never held her door or helped her in or out of the car. At first she’d been a bit taken aback by that and told him a gentleman always opened doors for women or helped them in and out of the car as a sign of good manners. He’d told her to get off her high horse and be the modern woman she wanted to be. So she did that, but her heart longed for a gentleman.
Spencer made her enjoy this. First, she enjoyed watching him when he walked in front of the truck. She seemed to find something new to admire about him every time she studied him. His hair was short but very dark. Today she noticed how at just two in the afternoon he already had a rugged-looking five-o’clock shadow beginning on his face.
His t-shirt stretched across the muscles of his chest as he reached for the door handle. She could see the defined pecs as the sun brightened the color of his gray t-shirt. She couldn’t see his abs, but she’d felt them when she hugged him this morning. He’d been solid and firm against her, and she hadn’t felt so safe her entire life. Especially since Colt. She hadn’t felt safe since him—ever. Until now.
She turned herself in the seat and held his hand as she stepped on the running board of his truck, then stepped to the ground. She’d worn tennis shoes today because her legs were still sore from falling yesterday and she didn’t want to make them worse by wearing heels. Sure-footedness it would be for a few days.
He opened her Jeep door, then his brows bunched. “Are you feeling strong enough to shift? You could drive my truck and I can take your Jeep if you prefer.”
“I think I should be alright. I’m a little sore, but I think it’s manageable.”
