Page 40 of Pucking Knox
I catch her hands before they can wander. "Behave."
"Never."
She's still laughing when Ace returns, hair wet and suspicious eyes tracking between us.
"I'm starving," Kennedy announces. "Knox, help me cook?"
Which is how I end up in a kitchen worth more than my childhood house, watching Kennedy dance around in tiny shorts while she makes pasta. Ace sits at the counter, allegedly helping but mostly making sure I keep my hands to myself.
"Pass the garlic." Kennedy bumps my hip as she stirs sauce.
I hand it over, definitely not watching how she licks sauce from her thumb. "Need anything else?"
"Just you." She winks, and Ace groans.
"Can you two not? For like five minutes?"
"Nope." Kennedy pops the 'p' cheerfully. "My house, my rules. Speaking of which, I was thinking we could swim after dinner?"
The thought of Kennedy in a bikini makes my mouth go dry. "It's pretty late."
"Pool's heated." She gives me a look that has nothing to do with swimming. "Unless you're scared?"
"Children," Ace interrupts. "Dinner's burning."
It's not, but the moment breaks. We eat on the back patio, the pool lights casting blue shadows while Kennedy tells stories about childhood summers here. I learn about secret passages in the old house, about the time Ace pushed her in the pool fully clothed, about their parents' gradual absence as campaigns took precedence over family vacations.
"Last one here was two years ago," she says quietly. "Before Dad's Senate run really kicked off."
I want to pull her into my lap, to kiss away that sadness in her voice. Instead, I settle for squeezing her knee under the table.
"Movie?" Ace suggests when the dishes are done.
We end up in the massive living room, Kennedy between us on the oversized couch. Some action movie plays, but I'm too aware of her to focus. She keeps shifting closer to me, her bare leg pressed against mine, her fingers occasionally brushing my thigh.
Ace notices. Of course he does. But he just turns up the volume and pretends not to see.
Finally, around midnight, he calls it. "I'm beat. Try to behave yourselves."
"No promises," Kennedy calls after him.
The moment his door closes upstairs, she turns to me. "Hi."
"Hi yourself." I brush her hair back from her face. "Your brother will kill us, Princess."
"Maybe."
But instead of the seduction I expect, she just curls into my side, head on my chest.
"Tell me something true," she whispers.
"Like what?"
"Anything. Something you've never told anyone."
I think for a moment, running my fingers through her hair. "I used to be scared of the ocean."
"Really?"
