As much as he wanted to believe he was strong enough to resist any other woman until Kennedy gave in—if she gave in—Sawyer knew his tendency to pretend she might be inching closer and closer to giving him a chance was just a figment of his imagination. He knew better.
If she gave him the slightest hint that there was even a chance for them, he’d be celibate until Kennedy gave him the green light. However, until that happened, Sawyer couldn’t promise to be a fucking saint.
KENNEDY KNEW THAT she had absolutely no right to be jealous. If Sawyer chose to be with other women, then that was his prerogative. She damn sure wasn’t going to be staking a claim on the biggest playboy to grace their little town. In fact, the idea of him with another woman only cemented her reasons for not wanting him.
He was no different now than he’d been in high school. Sleeping with an endless line of women, one after the other, one night here, one night there, no commitment. He’d mastered the art of the one-night stand, and surprisingly enough, there were plenty of women who had no shame when it came to giving in for just one night.
Kennedy wasn’t that type of woman.
Nor did she want to be.
“You okay?” her father asked, pulling her attention from the conversation that had taken place at the booth behind her. She probably should’ve been embarrassed to have been blatantly eavesdropping, but she wasn’t. She was just pissed.
“Great,” she lied, plastering a smile on her face. “How was your day?”
“Boring as hell,” Jeff stated firmly.
Jeff Endsley was a man who said exactly what was on his mind, regardless of his company. Kennedy had long ago learned that he would tell her what he was feeling. If she asked. That was the key though. She had to ask and she had to keep questioning him or she’d walk away with very little detail as to anything that was going on with him. They were close, always had been, but he wasn’t one to talk much.
Kennedy noticed her father was looking behind her and she briefly turned, looking past Sawyer to the bartender, Mack. Crap. She turned back quickly, realizing Mack was staring in their direction.
“Dad?” she asked, wondering where he’d mentally disappeared to.
“Huh?” he muttered, barely noticing her.
Kennedy snapped her fingers in front of his face, trying to get his attention.
When his gray eyes, so much like her own but only by eerie coincidence, met hers, Kennedy frowned. “What are you looking at?” she asked.
“Nothin’,” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “Give me a sec. I’m gonna get a beer.” Her father stood from his seat and looked back down at her. “Need anything?”
Kennedy held up her half-full glass and shook her head. “I’m good.”
She twisted in her seat, watching her father as he made his way to the bar to get a beer. A beer he wouldn’t drink because he was still on duty for another half hour. No, his need for a drink had nothing to do with thirst and everything to do with the conversation he was now having with the bartender. The first thing she noticed as she watched the interaction between the two men was that Mack, a normally gruff-looking guy on a good day, was now smiling.
Turning back around, she was grateful that she didn’t have to look at Sawyer. He was still sitting behind her. Alone. While she waited for her father, she stared down at the table, so many thoughts running through her head, she could hardly keep them straight. Somehow she managed to sort through them, trying to line up the facts as she knew them. Her father was single, had never married, rarely dated, and when he did, he didn’t bring his partners home with him.
And by partners, Kennedy was referring to men. Her father was gay. Albeit he was as in the closet as they came.
Or was he?
She’d actually been in high school when she found out that her father was interested in men. It had been a complete accident, but she remembered the moment well.
“Where’re you headed off to tonight?” Kennedy asked her father when he traipsed through the kitchen looking more dressed up than usual. She was used to seeing him in his uniform, but certainly not sporting a long-sleeved button-down shirt and . . . slacks. Wow. He was going all out.
“How’s the homework comin’?” he asked, ignoring her question altogether.
Kennedy knew something was up at that point.
“Good. Now your turn.”
“My turn for what?”
“To answer my question. Where are you goin’? You got a hot date or somethin’?”
“Or somethin’. I’ll be out late.”
“Well, I hope you don’t plan to bring any strange women back to the house,” Kennedy teased.