4. Kenzie

4

KENZIE

K enzie stood in the family room in her pajamas, with a fruit roll-up hanging out of her mouth like a cigar, trying to make sure she had everything she needed before she lowered herself to the sofa at last.

The groceries were somehow loaded in and put away. She had a Christmas movie going on the television. The TV remote, her phone, and her water bottle were at the ready on the little table by the sofa.

She was carrying her movie snack in her mouth since she’d had the water bottle and both crutches coming back in here and her pajamas didn’t have pockets.

Her phone buzzed on the table. She could see from here that she had a text from Mal. Just as she was getting ready to put down the crutches and sit to check it, there was a knock at the back door. Probably just Mal. It made sense that she was texting to say she was stopping by.

“Coming,” she called out as she hauled herself in the direction of the door .

But when she swung it open, it wasn’t Mal waiting there at all.

Instead, Aidan Webb stood on the other side, looking every bit as tall, dark, and handsome as before. Only this time instead of looking angry, he looked almost… surprised, like he wasn’t the one knocking on her door unexpectedly.

“Oh no,” she sighed, fearing the worst. “Did your bumper fall off or something? I will pay for it. I promise.”

“What?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

She realized belatedly that she had a mouthful of fruit roll-up garbling her words.

“Sorry,” she said, juggling the crutches to remove the snack and trying not to think about the fact that she was also in her pajamas. “I was asking if your truck was okay?”

He blinked at her for a second.

“No,” he said at last. “I mean, yes, it’s fine. I’m not here about that.”

“Oh,” she said, wondering what in the world he would be doing at her door if it wasn’t about the truck.

For another second he just stared down at her, looking like he was trying to solve a puzzle or something.

Probably the riddle of why I’m in my pajamas, eating a giant fruit roll-up at ten o’clock in the morning.

“I heard someone in this house needed some work done,” he said. “I’m the carpenter. Mallory from the bakery sent me over.”

“ Oh ,” she said, realizing that must have been the reason Mal was texting. “Yes, that’s me. I wanted to put a barre in here, and some mirrors. ”

“Like a saloon theme?” he asked, stepping inside and suddenly looking more relaxed. “We could do batwing doors, too, if you want.”

She shook her head, trying to understand why he would want to put a cowboy saloon into her practice space.

“Okay, not like a saloon,” he said, looking at her strangely.

“Like for ballet,” she told him.

“I didn’t know dancers were big drinkers,” he said flatly. “But that’s fine with me.”

She stared at him for a minute with no clue what to say next.

“Though, I don’t know if it’s such a good idea for you to drink and dance,” he confided, giving her foot a pointed look.

A joke. Oh wow, it’s supposed to be a joke.

She laughed weakly with relief and his mouth quirked again in that suggestion of a smile.

“So, do you have a rundown on the exact shape of the wood for the project?” he asked. “I haven’t done a ballet barre before.”

She talked him through all the materials and the height for the barre, and promised to get back to him with any details he asked about that she wasn’t sure on. It was hard not to notice how much more relaxed the big man seemed the moment he was talking about work. His deep voice was warm, and his eyes met hers more than once.

“And I’ll need full-length mirrors here and there,” she said, pointing to two opposite sides of the room .

“How big?” he asked.

“They should cover the walls,” she told him. “Or as much of the walls as possible. I need to be able to see from my feet to the top of my head.”

“Hmm,” he said, frowning. “How important is that?”

“It’s crucial,” she told him, wondering why this was an issue for a professional. “Otherwise, it’s almost better for me not to practice at all because I can’t see if my form is right.”

“Understood,” he said, nodding. “If you want to give me your contact, I’ll put together some numbers for you.”

He slid his phone out of his pocket and held it out to her.

She took it and put her name and number in. When she looked up, he was taking a few more measurements.

She glanced back down at his phone. It was in a thick black case that was as covered with nicks and scratches as his truck. Was everything about the man big, dark, and damaged?

“Thanks,” he said, holding out his hand.

She passed it to him, and he looked down at her contact.

“MacKenzie Forrest,” he said, nodding. “Wow, that’s a familiar name.”

He said it almost like he knew who she was, though she was positive he didn’t—at least not from school. Maybe the name was familiar because she had just been in the paper for getting hurt. The closest she’d ever been to him at school was when he’d been the emcee for the talent show, and she had been doing a juggling routine with Mal in matching clown suits. It wasn’t the kind of act a guy like Aidan Webb remembered.

She just nodded back at him stupidly, trying to equate this quiet grump with the animated teenager she and probably half the school had crushed on.

He looked down at her like he was expecting her to say something, but his eyes seemed to darken slightly, and a little zip of electricity went down her spine.

“Would you like a fruit roll-up?” she heard herself offer, feeling like an idiot the moment the words left her mouth.

“Sure,” he said politely, looking a little surprised.

She turned as quickly as she could and headed into the kitchen, wondering what had gotten into her. She had always suffered the curse of extreme politeness, but offering a grown man a fruit roll-up was a bridge too far—even for her.

It was that stupid zip and his annoyingly gorgeous eyes. What was I supposed to do?

She grabbed a fruit roll-up from the open box in the cupboard as quickly as she could and carried it back to him.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll, uh, take it with me since I’ve got to get to my aunt’s place.”

He seemed to be in a hurry to leave all of a sudden, and she could hardly blame him. But he stopped at the door and turned to her.

“I’ll try and be in touch later today,” he said. “I can start as soon as I have materials, if you want me to.”

“The sooner, the better,” she told him excitedly, feeling relieved that she hadn’t completely scared him away with her awkwardness. “That’s amazing that you can start so fast.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll just… juggle a few things around.”

He slipped out the back door and was gone before she could fully take in what was tickling her mind about what he’d just said.

Juggle a few things around? Holy cow. He does remember me.

And he made another joke.

Amazed, she stared at her own back door for two full seconds before bursting out laughing. Then she popped her fruit roll-up back in her mouth, and moved to the sofa as quickly as she could to get to her phone, which was buzzing again.

When she had leaned her crutches onto the arm and lowered herself onto the cushions, she unlocked the screen and saw she had missed about a million messages from Mal.

She tried to think of what to text back, and the ideas formed a traffic jam between her brain and her thumbs, so she pressed the button to call instead.

“Kenzie,” Mal said breathlessly, picking up on the first ring. “Aidan Webb is headed over there right now.”

“Oh, he was already here,” Kenzie told her. “And you’ll never believe what happened.”