Page 39 of Starting Over with You
Her eyes flash with love. “I did, but when I found out about Stratford, I knew I needed my own money.”
I blink. “Did he know?”
She shakes her head. “Not a clue. The boys didn’t even know.”
I look down at my glass, hating what she went through. I hope she’ll tell me more, but then she stares into her drink like it holds all the answers to her sham of a marriage. My throat is tight when I mutter, “I’m sorry, Kenni. Really. No one deserves that.”
She shrugs. “It is what it is. I’m better off now, and my boys will always be good.”
“With you as their momma, hell yeah.”
She bites her bottom lip as her blue gaze meets mine. She has such breathtaking pride in her eyes, and I wish she could see herself the way I do. See that I think she is the most incredible woman I’ve ever known. That even if I wasn’t there cheering for her in person, I’ve always been her biggest cheerleader. I wish I had been able to get all the details from her mouth, but secondhand was the only way. She looks away, heat staining her cheeks and gathering at the pit of my gut. God, I want her.
When “Why Don’t We Just Dance” by Josh Turner starts to play, Kenni squeals and wiggles a bit. “I love this song!”
“Wanna dance?” I ask almost instantly. Kenni looks back at me, her eyes widening, but then her grin is taking up her whole face. The freckles along her nose and cheeks seem darker in the glow of the lights, and her dimples are deep as excitement fills her expression.
“Really?”
I laugh as I stand, grabbing her glass and putting it on the bar. “Really. You’re my favorite dance partner. Or did you forget?”
Heat moves into her gaze, and it stuns me for a moment. I swallow hard before I hold out my hand to her. She takes it eagerly, and the feel of her soft skin in my rough hands has my heart racing. I thread our fingers together as we make our way through the crowd to get a spot on the dance floor. I turn to face her, grabbing her hip with my free hand as she brings her hand up to hold my bicep. Our eyes meet and she beams up at me, while I’m fighting just to breathe.
Then we’re moving.
Her eyes never leave mine, and I get lost in them. I’ve always been drawn to Kenleigh. Always. But this right here is torture. I feel as if she’s reached right between my ribs and wrapped her hands around my lungs, digging her nails in as she steals every single one of the breaths I try to take.
Crazy thing is, I don’t want her to stop.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Kenni
My laugh is loud as Dean spins me out then back into his arms before we start two-stepping once more. Our boots glide along the pine floors, and I swear I haven’t laughed so much in the last nineteen years. There wasn’t a Tuesday when I was growing up that Dean wouldn’t be standing near me, ready to be my partner. Sadie was in an on-again, off-again relationship all through high school with a dudcake, and Missy had a new guy weekly. But Dean, he was my partner. He was all arms and legs back then; he didn’t pack on weight until he turned about seventeen. Then he was a walking bull in a china shop.
But no matter, he moved me around a dance floor like a hockey play he’d memorized.
Some things never change.
Well, that’s a lie. Dean Moore isn’t the lanky teenager he used to be. Now with thick, dark stubble along his jaw, a super-slutty mustache above his top lip, and that black hat low on his brow, he’s a cowgirl’s porno dream come true. Add in the white button-upthat he’s left open at the top and the sleeves rolled up along thick, veined forearms… Yeah, I’m having one hell of a time trying not to drool.
Just like everyone else in this place.
I’m not blind. I see every neck breaking to check out his ass, because you can bet your sweet tit, I sure did. How could I not? His Carhartt jeans are tight on his ass and thighs, with that damn shirt tucked into them.
But that’s not all.
He has a black belt that he probably uses to tie hands to bedposts riding high on his hips, showing off his hot-ass tapered waist.
It’s as if he stepped right out of my favorite cowboy romance and asked me to dance.
And boy, can Dean Moore dance. His hips move with the beat, his hands are sure as they move me around the floor, and the way his boots step, I have to remind myself to breathe. It’s insane how much he’s changed. I’ve seen him over the years, but nothing could have prepared me for those sparkling blue eyes that he has set on me right now. The way his lips curve in a smirk should be illegal. The expansion of his chest is mouthwatering, and hell, knowing I wrapped my whole body around him just a few days ago has me on edge.
Especially with how comfortable I feel with him, but that’s normal. I grew up with him, just as I did with Sadie and Missy. We had Sunday dinners together. I was there when his grandparents died, just as he was there when mine did. He never made fun of me for not having a mom. He was actually the one to say I could borrow his if I needed one. When his mom passed, we made sure to support him in any way we could. I went to all his hockey games with Missy and Sadie—not to mention he’s the only one I’ve been arrested with. He took care of me, looked out for me, and cared about my well-being.
He’s my home.
