Page 73 of Opening Strain

Jenna joins us with her oversized purse over her shoulder. “I popped the trunk with your luggage, Bennett.”

“Thanks.” I turn toward the back of her car, King in tow, and grab my backpack. “Would you mind grabbing those for me? I hate this.” I point to my leg.

“Understood.” He lifts my luggage out of the car and looks around. “Where’s the rest of Jenna’s stuff?”

“Because the paparazzi were all over us, we decided she couldn’t take anything bigger than what she has. Otherwise, the rumor mill would get worse.” I slam the trunk closed.

“Oh, man. That sucks.” We roll my bags to the front.

King addresses Jenna. “I’m sure Angie could help you get anything you might have forgotten.”

Grey eyes dart between us. “I was thinking I could go home and get a change of clothes tomorrow. Maybe even stay there.”

“No way.” I stop. “You saw the press staked out at your house. I won’t let you go back there while I’m here. It’s not safe.”

Jenna’s left arm covers the other. She rubs up and down the strap. “It’s not me they’re after.”

“You heard them. They’re just as rabid for intel about you as they are for me.”

King stays silent, observing.

I continue, “At least I gave them a plausible story about looking for properties. What’s your angle?”

She straightens her shoulders, her lips in a thin line.

“That’s what I thought.” I turn my head toward King. “Let’s go in.”

The three of us go to the front door, where King produces a keyfrom the lockbox and hands it to me. “I’m removing this while you’re here. You can drop the key off to the agency before you leave, or give it to Jenna to do so after you’ve left.”

His words pinball through my body. I don’t want to leave her here. All alone to handle the press.Who am I trying to kid? Even though I’ll be the one leaving, it still feels like she’s the one abandoning me. Like everyone else in my life.

King ushers us through the front door. I’m once again hit with the massive foyer, high ceilings, and open concept. Not to mention the view of the ocean through the wall-to-wall windows in the family room. It’s breathtaking.

And big. I don’t need such a huge place.

Jenna points to one side of the staircase. “I’m going to put my things in a bedroom.” Without waiting for a response, she runs up the stairs.

King says, “Let’s take the elevator.”

“I hate this fucking muscle pull,” I grumble as we wheel my luggage down the hallway. Pressing the button, the door opens and we get into the cab with my luggage—with room to spare. “Shit. This thing is big.”

King smirks. “I hear that a lot.”

I like this guy. “Yeah, me too.” Although not from the one woman who I’d like to hear it from. I bet Jenna...A needle scratches across the record.

King asks, “What was that out there?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

The doors open and we walk toward the primary suite. In a higher voice than his usual baritone, King imitates me from outside the car. “‘I won’t let you go back there while I’m here. It’s not safe.’”

I flinch. “Jenna’s my responsibility. She wouldn’t be in this predicament but for my stupid injury.” I pound on my right thigh.

“Uh huh.”

We wheel my luggage into a huge walk-in closet.

“Between you and me, that’s not the only reason.” I shrugoff my backpack and place it on top of the quartz-covered closet island. Why am I confessing all this to King, whom I barely know? Perhaps that’s why?

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