Page 15 of Pillowtalk

Kennedy

Kennedy rubbed her eyes and fell back on the soft plush of the blue and gold comforter, her laptop jostling as she moved. The battery was practically dead from the few hours she’d sat in front of it, and she’d told herself that she would take five minutes and stare at the ceiling before getting up to plug it in.

The manuscript couldn’t have come at a better time; Kennedy had been gazing out the window at the lake, debating whether to risk going out when the clouds above looked awfully gray. She woke up that morning with a sense of purpose—spread the ashes and take the next train out of there. But when the sun didn’t greet her, only ominous precipitation, she decided that it might not be the best day to be throwing someone’s ashes across a very angry-looking lake. However—and she laughed as the thought crossed her mind—Jared might actually enjoy that.

So when her phone had dinged with an email, and she’d seen one of her favorite authors’ names with an attachment, she couldn’t grab her laptop quickly enough. There she’d sat for the last few hours, drowning herself in the story and making notes along the way. The distraction had worked, up until the male lead entered, described in a way that made her picture a certain tech guru whom she was not eager to think about again.

She ran a hand over her forehead, hoping to massage away the impending screen headache she was sure to get. It was ridiculous, really, to be so irritated by someone she barely knew, but the exchange at the bar last night had her so tense she’d hardly slept. Aaron had a way of making her feel completely comfortable, and then he’d flip on a dime, abruptly freezing her out. She’d gone back through everything she’d said, every facial expression he made, and she could come up with no explanation for the sudden hostility he’d showed toward her.

A long huff escaped her nostrils, and she rolled her head to stare at the urn propped up against the pillow next to her. “No wonder you never mentioned him to me,” she told Jared with a laugh, but whatever humor she found in the statement fluttered away when she was met with nothing but silence—something she should be used to by now, but it still wrecked her heart.

She turned back to the ceiling, watching the fan blades rotate on the slowest setting. The soft breeze was welcome when the heat from the laptop burned her thighs as she worked, but it was starting to get chilly. Her gooey limbs ached as she pushed herself to a sitting position and let out a sigh. Silence was so foreign, and she thought that she’d enjoy it, but at the moment it was a little too much.

“I love you, but I’m mad at you,” she told the ashes. “Leaving me with no one to talk to. When I get up there, you are in trouble.”

Kennedy frowned in the silence that followed, got to her feet, and padded her way to her laptop bag. She dug out the cord, making more noise than was necessary just to break the thick and painful quiet around her, and then pushed it into the outlet. She sank back onto the bed, clicking the other end of the cord into her laptop. The lightning bolt that indicated the battery was charging flickered for only a second before it shut off and the bright red light in the battery symbol turned back on.

Kennedy’s brows pulled together as she wiggled the cord and checked the outlet on the wall. She quickly saved the open document and hopped up to see what was wrong with her charger. She’d just used it overnight, and she’d had a full battery this morning.

The air around her grew warm and sticky, and she looked up to the unmoving fan. A jolt of realization hit and a glance at the blank alarm clock on the nightstand confirmed it: The power was out.

“Well played,” she told Jared, shaking her head. Not that she truly believed he had anything to do with the power outage, but sometimes it felt better believing he was still around in some way to tease her.

She shuffled through her clothes that she still hadn’t pulled from her suitcase and found her worn zip-up hoodie. She threw it on over her tank top and zipped it halfway as she descended the staircase. Hopefully Chelsea, Daniel, and the two boys were back in from town, but judging by the lack of noise, she wouldn’t put money on it.

Still, Kennedy checked the main offices. “Chels?” she called out, and almost as if she’d heard her from miles away, Kennedy’s phone chimed in her hoodie pocket.

“Hello?”

“Oh good, you’re okay.” A sigh of relief fuzzed through the phone before Chelsea babbled on. “It’s crazy out here. There’s a power line blocking the main road—a giant tree that just fell on the Hendersons’ roof—and people are holing up in shop basements. I don’t know if we’ll get it back tonight. Are you and Aaron all right to hold the fort?”

Kennedy took a minute to process all the rushed information that had just been thrown at her.Wait…

“Aaron?”

“In here!” came a low, throaty voice just around the end of the hallway. She nearly dropped her phone from the goosebumps that jumped up on her skin.

“He should…still be there….” Chelsea said, her voice breaking up. “I…in…and then take…and you should…Don’t worry…back in…stay safe!”

The line dinged in her ear as Chelsea hung up on the other end. Kennedy took a deep breath, telling herself to calm the rushing beat of her heart. It wasn’t only the fact that she was alone in a strange place with a man who didn’t seem to like her all that much, but Kennedy wasn’t a big fan of thunder. Lightning. Darkness. Jared had beentoo muchof a fan of that chaos and upheaval, and he thrived on being the one to hold Kennedy through it. And Kennedy, truth be told, loved him making storms bearable.

If he really was teasing her with the current weather, she had a few strong words for him when she got back up to her room.

A chink of glass followed by a grunted curse stole her attention, and she tentatively made her way around the corner.

Aaron’s top half was hidden by a large cabinet door that had swung open while he dug around inside. He wore a pair of nice-fitting jeans, two pens sticking from the pockets, and his red plaid overshirt hung open near his hip. Kennedy swallowed hard, shaking her head and scolding herself for still finding him attractive without even seeing his face.

“Need any help?” she said, her voice small and unsure as she tested the waters of his current mood. His head peeked out from behind the cabinet door, his eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses Kennedy had so far not seen him wear. Her breath was knocked clean from her lungs, and she nearly clutched the wall to keep upright.

He grinned and pushed the cabinet door flat against the wall so she too could look inside. “Looking for anything to use for light. Candles, matches, flashlights…something we can use for when it gets too dark.”

Kennedy glanced out the window, needing an excuse to keep her eyes off those very sexy, very distinguished-looking spectacles and the honey-colored irises behind them. It was starting to get late, and she really wasn’t thrilled at the idea of spending a dark night…in a storm…on the top floor…alone.

A spool of ribbon toppled out of the open cabinet and rolled across the floor, tapping Kennedy’s bare foot. Both of them bent to retrieve it, Kennedy stopping the moment her fingers brushed over Aaron’s knuckles. She thought by now she’d be used to the electrifying pulse that shot through her every time he happened to touch her skin, but it still made her suck in a breath and warmed her cheeks. Though she hadn’t noticed any change in his expression before, from the wide-eyed look on his face, she was sure Aaron felt it that time, too.

She shot up straight and fumbled for words. “Have…have you checked the kitchen supply closet?”

He studied her for a long moment before shaking his head and gluing his gaze to the cabinet in front of him. “Charlie’s in there. Didn’t want to wake him. The storm’ll freak him out.”

Kennedy could feel the icy tension creep its way back between them, and still not knowing what in the world she’d done to deserve the harsh look he was giving the second shelf, she set her jaw and all but pushed him out of the way. With her newfound determination to find a source of light for herself just to get out of his hair, she caused quite a ruckus as she shoved and jostled and smooshed every bit of the disorganized cabinet.

Her fingers tripped over something hard and waxy on the bottom shelf, and she ducked down to find a candle and two books of matches stacked against it. A wave of relief washed through her, and she grabbed the items, handed a matchbook to Aaron—careful not to touch his skin—and squared her shoulders. She left with a forced grin and not a word in parting. It took all she had not to glance over her shoulder to see if the sudden departure affected him as much as it had her.

She thought it would be satisfying to return the hostile attitude, but when she got to the top-floor landing, all she felt was disappointment that they were no longer in the same room, and she was left with only an urn to talk to.

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