Page 115 of Mountain Daddy (Mountain Men #2)

Kendra

I do my best to dab at my eye with a wet paper towel, trying to get the stinging to subside while leaving my mascara intact.

But there’s nothing to be done about the redness.

Luckily, I had a nice little cry while washing my hands, so at least both my eyes are red, evening out the deranged look.

I sniff.

Why?

Why couldn’t I have just left my sunglasses on?

Why did I have to take them off and meet Luther’s gaze head-on?

A toilet flushes, and someone steps out of a stall just as the main door opens and two more women walk into the restroom.

I toss my wet paper towel into the trash and move out of the way, catching the door before it closes.

Keeping my eyes down, I avoid looking at anybody as I make my way back to my seat.

I can do this.

I can get through tonight.

Dad shoots me a pained smile as I pull my chair back. “You gonna be alright?”

I shake my head as I sit. “I’ll probably need to take Monday off. For recovery.”

Dad hums. “I’ll need to see a note from a doctor.”

I pick up a cold fry and gesture with it. “I’m sure one of these fine folks is an MD.”

Dad furrows his brows. “I think you’ll need an optometrist.”

“Actually.” Jessie holds up her own fry. “I think you’re looking for an ophthalmologist.”

We both look at her.

“What’s the difference?” Dad leans his elbows on the table.

Tuning them out, I blink a couple times.

My eye still feels irritated, but I don’t want to touch it.

“I’m sorry.” Luther’s quiet voice rolls across the table.

I force my gaze up from my tray. “It’s not your fault.”

His jaw moves, like he’s biting his cheek.

And then I really take him in.

He’s handsome, of course.

Still filling out his clothing like it’s his job.

But beneath it… He looks miserable.

He’s not teasing.

He’s not grinning.

His stance is rigid. Bracing.

And I hate it.

I don’t want to see him.

I don’t want to talk to him.

Not now.

But I also don’t want him to look… like this.

“I’m fine,” I tell him.

I’m fine.

He dips his chin once. Swallows. Then he looks down at my food. “I squeezed the lemons on your fish while you were in the bathroom. If it’s gotten too cold, or if you don’t like it, I can get you more.”

I look at my tray. At the squished lemon wedges in the corner.

My throat tightens, and my eyes start to sting all over again.

That was…

That was really thoughtful of him.

But I don’t have it in me to say the words aloud.

So I don’t say anything.