Free Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2) by Lauren Giordano

were slow and clearly painful. Kendall waited, careful not to approach with an offer of assistance. When he caught up to her, she slipped under his available arm, casually borrowing some of his weight. Together they methodically moved down the hall. When they reached her room, he was out of breath.
    "I can't change who I am." Harry spoke with a weary sarcasm that came from years of self-defense. Years of teasing, jealous comments over something he couldn't control. His appearance. His very nature. Kendall couldn't help but be drawn to it– to what she had experienced.
    She chuckled at his grumpy comment. "If it makes you feel better, you don't look quite as perfect as you did Friday. I like your bed head better."
    Limping closer to the bed, he sank into it with relief. "Thanks, Ken."
    As he struggled to remove the too-tight shirt from around the bulky cast encasing his wrist, she stepped forward and gently tugged it over his head. Harry fell back against the pillows, clearly spent from the exertion.
    She waited, uncertain why she lingered. They'd traded one dark room for another, yet this bedroom somehow seemed less threatening. She resisted the urge to fluff the pillows behind his head– and the stronger one to run her fingers through his hair.
    "Can I get you anything? A glass of water?"
    "Water sounds good." His voice slurred with sleepiness. He barely lifted his head when Lurch scampered to the bedroom door, growling low in his throat.
    "What's up with him?"
    "A watchdog he's not," she muttered. Ken headed to the door. "What's the matter, Sweetie?" When she stooped to scratch behind his ears, Lurch shook her off and stumbled into the hallway. The staccato barking began a moment later.
    "Maybe he hears something."
    She waited with him on the landing, stroking his rigid body and straining to hear the noise bothering him. But like every other night, the only sound was the familiar song of the crickets. As quickly as he'd gone on alert, Lurch strolled back to the bedroom. Once he'd flopped on the rug by Traynor's feet, she picked up the water pitcher. Harrison's even breathing told her he'd already fallen asleep.
    Waiting in the bathroom until the water ran cold, Kendall snapped out of her strange reverie. She couldn't afford to forget what Harrison represented. He was the man forcing her company into bankruptcy. His injuries were a result of her company's carelessness. They would be used against her, she was certain. Traynor had a job to do– protect Specialty Construction from potential liability.
    She was that liability.
    ***
    Harrison was awake and broodingly alert when she arrived on his doorstep with juice and toast a few hours later. Unlike him, Kendall was groggy and punch drunk from lack of sleep. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting." She tried to inject some cheer into her voice. As soon as she had a minute, she would down a handful of aspirin for the headache starting behind her eyes.
    "What's wrong? You look terrible this morning."
    "I tried wearing a bag over my head, but I spilled your juice on the way upstairs." Frustration flared as she stalked to the bed. She jerked his make-shift tray table over the bedspread, averting her eyes from his seriously chiseled chest.
    "No need to be cranky about it."
    "This is how I look with two hours sleep." She set the tray down forcefully, wincing when orange juice sloshed over the side of the glass. "You only have to tolerate me a few more days."
    "Chill out, Ken. I meant that you look exhausted– not hideous."
    On her best day– one with eight hours sleep, perfect hair conditions, all the bills paid and absolutely no worries– Kendall Adams could look halfway decent. She was presentable in a way that didn't smack of 'beautiful', but in the right light could pass for 'cute'. There were only a handful of those days– clustered around the year-end holidays, when it was too late to make her self-imposed budget and too early to worry about failing in the new year.
    "Oh." The