down her body, noting again how the dress hugged each of her delicious curves. She had gorgeous legs any man would kill to have wrapped around him, with her hooker heels digging into his back.
“Are you?” he asked.
Her eyes narrowed, dark lashes fusing. While she had glowed with her amusement, she crackled savagely with her anger. What this girl felt, she really felt. Emotion affected her soul-deep.
“I was seventeen when I gave birth to Norrie. I was a kid myself. That’s all. But now I will never give you a chance to get to know who and what I have become,” she said. Up went her chin. Back went her shoulders. She pasted that fake smile on her face, one that definitely didn’t glow. “Would my past make me any less of a person with feelings capable of being hurt now?”
Hate myself. “No,” he said. “You’re not a whore. I had no right...Kenna, I—”
“Don’t bother. You heard the gossip and judged me guilty. That tells me all I need to know about your character. Goodbye, Mr. Michaelson.” She walked out of the library, and she never once looked back.
THE NEXT DAY was business as usual for Kenna.
Though it was saturday, she’d risen early in the morning to read the lectures that had been posted for her online courses, and to complete as many of the upcoming homework assignments as possible. Now she was spending the afternoon with her greatest source of joy, Norrie, before her evening would be dedicated to her job at Two Farms.
She pushed Dane Michaelson and his cruel accusations to the back of her mind...as well as the memory of his hard body pressed against her long-neglected one as he’d led her away from the party, the heat of him pulsing around her, driving her mad, the scent of him—testosterone and what could be referred to only as manflesh—thrilling every fiber of her being. She didn’t allow herself to worry about his bad opinion of her. Really. She didn’t. Or wouldn’t.
Starting now.
She and Norrie walked to Strawberry Park, where Brook Lynn, who worked at Rhinestone Cowgirl every morning, making jewelry, was to meet them. It was late spring, the air cool and fragrant, the small hills and meadows covered with wild strawberries, one of God’s finest creations. The plants were spread low across the ground, remaining in small clusters. The flowers had five white petals and yellow centers, the leaves divided into three rounded leaflets with toothed edges.
The wild berries were smaller than ordinary strawberries, bright red and amazingly delicious. She should have been tired of the fruit, as many as she’d eaten throughout her life, but no. She was pretty sure she’d one day die of an overdose.
“Aunt Brook Lynn!” Norrie squealed, running to throw herself into the blonde’s open arms, her hair a red stream waving behind her. “Did you bring me one of your special necklaces? Huh, huh, did you?”
“Hey, baby girl. I sure did.” She handed Norrie a small box. Brook Lynn and her over-the-top designs were responsible for turning the jewelry store into one of the town’s biggest tourist attractions. Not that Edna Mills paid her appropriately.
After the little girl had oohed and aahed over the sparkling strawberry pendant that glistened with all the colors of a rainbow, she said, “Guess what? I promised my momma I wouldn’t talk to strangers, because they might want to touch my private places, and that would be bad. Oh, good! There’s Sara!” Norrie rushed to the swing set.
Kenna and Brook Lynn shared a smile. They’d both gotten used to Norrie’s inability to keep anything secret.
“Come on.” Kenna led Brook Lynn to a nearby bench. Along the way, her cell phone rang. She groaned when she spotted the familiar number. “It’s my mother. Probably calling to tell me everything I did wrong at the party.”
A look of yearning flashed over Brook Lynn’s face. The girl had lost both of her parents years ago, and would have welcomed a little parental nitpicking.
She kissed her friend’s cheek before she stepped away and answered. “Hello, Mother Dearest.”
“You know I hate when you call me that,” Roanne said on a sigh.
“I could encourage Norrie to call you Granny. Like that better?”
Roanne hmphed. “Listen, I want you to come to dinner tonight.”
“I can’t. I have to work.”
“But...won’t you cancel? For me?”
“I’m sorry, but no. I kinda like being paid.”
Roanne murmured under breath, her exasperation clear. “What about tomorrow night?”
Kenna’s one night off. She usually spent it with Norrie, cooking one of her daughter’s favorite meals. Always a toss-up between macaroni and cheese, grilled cheese sandwiches and cheese pizza. But deep down, Kenna was still a needy little girl, craving time with her own mother.
“All right,” she said. “Norrie and I will be there.”
“Wonderful. Bring a date. Dane will be there with his. Kisses,” her mom added in a rush, before Kenna could protest.
Click.
For several long moments, Kenna sat in a daze. Dinner...with Dane. And his date.
Date. Crap! Whom was she supposed to take? She had no prospects, because she had no social life. Despite what everyone thought, her last relationship—her only real relationship—had happened two years ago with a guy who’d used to spend the summers here. Paul Bramland. Her age, cute. But she’d refused to spend an entire night with him or introduce him to Norrie, and while he’d dealt with those quirks without much protest, he hadn’t been able to deal with her refusal to be seen with him in public. She’d explained her reasons—gossip—but he hadn’t cared. He’d left town and never come back.
Guess I have that effect on men.
Though other guys asked her out, she always said no. She had so little to give, and besides, she knew she’d have to endure looks and whispers if ever she gave in. Why even bother?
“Everything okay?” Brook Lynn asked.
No. No, it wasn’t. But rather than dump all of her problems on her friend, she said, “Do you ever just...I don’t know...cut loose? Seize the day? Have fun?”
“Um, did you forget who you were talking to? No. I never do those things.”
“Well, we’ve got to do something about that. We’re too young to be so...”
“Curmudgeonly?”
“Exactly!” She chewed on her bottom lip as she pondered ways to rectify the problem. Whatever they did, it would have to be discreet. Kenna’s reputation was bad enough. And totally undeserved! She waited on men for a living. They came to the restaurant where she worked, and she served them. If one of them happened to announce he was getting a divorce soon after, well then, some people just assumed Kenna was at fault. Like mother, like daughter.
Not
