Free Midwest Fighter (Kendall Family Book 2) by Jennifer Ann Page B

charm. Even though the flowers have yet to blossom and the grass isn’t as brilliant as in the summertime, the sun reflecting down on the Olympic-sized pool is a welcome sight.
    Ascending down the grand stairway toward the lower level of the backyard where the pool house sits, the silly thought that I’m a princess entering a ball comes to mind the way make-believe often did when I was young. Mum would never allow me to invite my less fortunate schoolmates over to play because she didn’t want them to know she spent life high off her tits and Dad was always gone on business trips, leaving me with nothing more than an overactive imagination to bide my time.
    Though Dad would prefer I sleep in a dreadful room clad with pink ruffles and a 4-poster bed that he declared as “mine,” I fancy the smart guest house complete with a state-of-the-art sound system and a well-stocked refrigerator. It reminds me of the similar pool house behind the mansion we lived in a few kilometers down the road when I was a rebellious teenager and threw brilliant parties to bribe others into becoming my mates.
    After I’ve retrieved a bottle of imported water from inside, I settle into one of the white loungers beside the pool and release a sigh. Were it not for the fact that I’ll be in LA soon with Evelyn, it would be a complete waste of my time to travel all this way to visit a man who has never really been there from the start. Still, it seemed necessary to at least attempt a connection with him after watching James and his family struggle over the past few days.
    It would seem I’m incapable of going mere minutes without thinking about my tortured lover. Getting his number from Evelyn and checking in to see if he’s doing alright would be easy enough if I didn’t worry the sound of his voice would evoke memories of his lips on my skin and force me to hop on an airplane back to the Midwest. The way he clung to me when we said our goodbyes broke my heart. Yet here I sit on a multi-million dollar estate, sipping on an over-priced water while he struggles to make sense of his loss.
    Made restless by the self-deprecating thoughts spinning through my noggin, I head back toward the house in search of those damn cookies Dad spoke of. Chocolate always has a way of comforting me even if it wrecks havoc on my already full waistline. It reminds me of being a little girl bouncing on Dad’s knee as I devoured the gooey treats. The memory evokes thoughts of the butterflies and suddenly I’m fantasizing about the sweet little nickname James had bestowed on me. Bloody hell, every single thought leads to a game of Six Degrees of James Kendall.
    Inside the house, Dad’s voice echoes through the high ceilings, as angry as I’ve ever heard. I find him among the aroma of baked goods inside the cottage-style kitchen, rubbing at his forehead while shouting, “Everythingthat happened to you was your own goddamned fault! You can’t blame me for all your problems!”
    That certainly doesn’t sound good. Even in the throws of an unexpected separation with Mum, I never heard him raise his voice to that degree. Besides, she was usually too high on Oxy to understand that she was a part of any conversation.
    When Dad spies me watching from the entryway, he flinches and turns away. “I have to go, Peter. My daughter is in town for a few days. I don’t have time for this.”
    He spins back around, setting his phone on the island. “Sorry about that, sweetheart.”
    I tilt my head. “Everything alright?”
    “It’s fine, sweetie,” he insists with a wave of his hand. “That was just one of many disgruntled employees who got the shaft when I sold the company. They don’t seem to understand that what happened after the buy-out was out of my hands.” Despite a line of sweat forming over his dark brow, he flashes one of his easy-going smiles. “What do you say we sit down with a plate of those cookies? I don’t think I’ve indulged in them since your last