Page 19 of Beautifully Broken Control

Her gaze met mine and held. “A few months.”

“And before that?”

She licked her lips again. A cue she was unsure about something. I just wasn’t sure what. “Portland.” Her gaze drifted away from mine as she said the word. A lie. Or not the whole truth.

“Hmmm.” I let the sound out slowly, not moving my gaze from her. She started to squirm. Good.

“Can I get you anything else?” Kennedy didn’t meet my eyes as she spoke.

“Nope.” I still didn’t move. “So, where’d you grow up?”

Kennedy’s entire body seized as though someone had sent an electric shock through her. “What’s with the twenty questions?”

I searched her face, looking for answers I knew she wouldn’t give, but shrugged at the same time. “Just trying to get to know the folks in my new home.”

Her skeptical expression told me that she wasn’t buying it for a minute. “Okay. I’m twenty-two years old, I have a dog who snores louder than a freight train, I hate Brussel sprouts, and my favorite color is purple. What about you?”

I leaned a hip against the counter. “I’m thirty-six, no pets but I’d like a dog someday, I hate creamed corn, and my favorite color is green.” The shade of green of her eyes flashed in my mind, and my jaw tightened. “Now, why don’t you tell me something real?”

Kennedy’s knuckles bleached white as she gripped the counter. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re very good at avoiding questions you don’t want to answer. Have Jensen and Walker even noticed they don’t know the first thing about you?”

Kennedy’s creamy white complexion bleached of any color, and I had the sudden urge to steady her, worried that she might faint. Her spine straightened, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “What they know is really none of your business, is it?”

My fists tightened at my sides, but I kept my tone casual. “They’re my family. It’s certainly my business.”

“Bullshit,” she hissed, color rising to her cheeks.

I grinned. It looked as if I’d finally tripped a trigger. That was good. When people got frustrated or angry, they stopped keeping a leash on their tongues. My grin turned just a bit heated. “What? Is asking questions a crime like large tips?”

Her fingers wrapped around the strings of her apron, twisting and tightening. “I know your type. All custom-tailoring and hundred-thousand-dollar cars. Thinking money can buy you anything. Well, let me tell you this. A ten-dollar tip doesn’t buy you the right to stick your nose in my business. No amount of money would. I don’t know why you’re asking so many questions. I don’t care to know. Keep your distance from me, and I’ll return the favor.”

The grin had slipped from my face. There was pain in her eyes. It was deep and raw and…fuck. I might have read the situation totally wrong. Maybe it wasn’t my friends who needed protecting. Maybe it was Kennedy. I cleared my throat. “I’m sorr—”

She cut me off by holding up a hand. “It’s fine. Just grab a table. I’ll bring you your food when it’s ready.” She turned on her heel and strode into the kitchen.

Well, shit.

7

Kennedy

My phone buzzedin my bike basket as I was chaining it to the rack in front of the ballet studio.Unknown number. A trickle of unease slid down my spine. I tapped the screen. “Hello?”

“Hello. Is this Kennedy Barrington?”

My stomach churned, and I could feel the beat of my pulse in my neck. “No. I’m sorry, you must have the wrong number.” The tremble in my voice was barely audible, but I knew it was there. I just hoped the person on the other end of the line didn’t hear it.

“I apologize for the inconvenience.”

I swallowed, the movement sticking as my throat had gone dry. “No problem.”

I hitendon the screen. My hand shook as I placed the phone back into my bag. Memories assaulted me as I zipped the top closed. Memories from before I’d gotten smart, changed my last name, and got a new phone number.

I grabbed my phone off the rickety table in my minuscule studio apartment. “Hello?”

“Is this Kennedy?”

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