“Why are you here, Hannah?” he breathed against my neck. “Is it that you think I need saving? Is it a fuck you to your daddy?”
The way he said fuck did something to me, made me feel wild or free or like he wasn’t afraid to break me—I’m not sure exactly what, but it made me feel something. I swallowed. “Because I like being around you.” He nuzzled his face against my neck and I trailed my fingers over his arm. “What about you? Do you want to taint the preacher’s innocent daughter? Do you need saving? Or—”
“No.” He sat me up and turned me to face him. “I saw you three Sundays ago. You walked in late to church wearing a black dress.” He was at my church? “You looked sad as shit, and I haven’t been able to get you outta my mind since then.”
“So… because I looked sad?”
He nodded, inching in until his lips were barely a breath from mine. “I wanted to see if I could make you smile.” He swept a piece of hair behind my ear, leaving a trail of heat where his fingers had skimmed my neck. I could hear my pulse in my ears. God, I wanted to kiss him, but I was terrified. Because I was pretty sure knowing what his lips felt like against mine would be a lethal dose of a drug I didn’t need, but still, I closed my eyes.
“Damn,” he breathed against my mouth. “You’re gonna hate me before this is all over.”
“Hey!” A man’s voice echoed across the lake before a bright spotlight shined on us. “Hey, what’cha doin’ in my boat?”
Shit! Noah straightened up.
“Imma call the cops!” the man shouted, still shining the light on us.
“Oh, please no,” I groaned. Daddy would have died—the preacher’s daughter going to jail with the boy he hired to help around the farm. The guy her best friend warned her about…
“Wait,” Noah’s shouted. “This is your boat?”
“That’s what I said, boy.”
“Twenty-three Lake View?”
“No, I’m twenty-eight Lake View.”
“Well, hell,” Noah laughed, a mischievous grin curling his lips. “I’m sorry, this guy I work with, Trevor Davis, he said I could borrow his boat.” Noah turned toward the bank, shielding his eyes from the bright light. The man dropped the spotlight to his side. “I’m real sorry about the mix-up,” Noah said, leaning over to grab the motor. “I’ll bring it right back over to you.”
“Well.” The man shifted on his feet before walking to the edge of the pier. “The eight is a little faded, I could see how you’d make the mistake.”
Noah shot a knowing glance at me, his smile deepening. “I’m not gonna let you get in trouble,” he whispered.
God, he was too good at that.
17
Noah
The engine idled at the front of her drive.
“Thanks for tonight,” she said, placing her hand on the door. “Even if you almost got me sent to jail.”
“Hold on a second.” I hopped out of the truck and rounded the front, stopping to open Hannah’s door.
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “A true southern gentleman I see?” she said and stepped out.
“I don’t know about that, but my grandma ‘bout beat the idea of manners in my head.”
The wind kicked up, blowing her hair across her face. I took the opportunity to brush it away simply because I wanted to touch her. Our eyes locked and there was this tension churning between us, some pull I’d never experienced. With every girl I’d been with, there was no waiting, no guessing. I knew they wanted me. I knew exactly what they wanted. I could kiss them, fuck them… but Hannah, I was nervous to even hold her damn hand. I’d never cared if a girl wanted to see me a second time. I’d never wanted a girl to miss me, until her. I wanted Hannah Blake to miss me. Damn, I wanted to kiss her that night. Just as I trailed my thumb over her jaw and wet my lips with my tongue, she coyly glanced down at the ground. Innocent. Scared.
“Well,” she said, swinging her arm at her side as she slowly backed away from me. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
“Hey, I punched a guy and stole a boat for you tonight, the least you could do is give me your number.”
“My number?” She laughed.
“Yeah, you know… in case I find a good song I need to share with someone or something.”
“For some reason, I doubt you have a short supply of numbers.”
Damn. I smiled even though the thought that she thought of me that way made me cringe. “I don’t have yours.”
She turned around and walked up the first few porch steps. “Nine six six three zero two one.”
“Well, shit, hang on…” I clumsily fished my phone out of my pocket and started to type. Nine six six thre…. Shit. “Zero two…what?”
She glanced over her shoulder, giving this timid little flash of a wave before slipping inside her house. I laughed under my breath, shaking my head as I typed in a one and prayed that was right before I dropped the phone in my pocket.
With a smile on my face, I climbed into my truck, taking note when the window in front of the tree lit up. That girl drove me crazy in every way I liked. So much so, she was still on my mind when I passed Grandma’s house. I drove to the end of the road and took a right, then an immediate left, parking beside the tiny rental house I called home.
“Hey, shithead!” I heard as soon as I opened my door. My ninety-year-old landlord was hanging over the chain-link fence with a crumpled beer can in his hand.
“Hey, Old Man.” That’s what everyone in town called him. Come to think of it, to this day I have no idea what his name was.
“It’s late, what’cha doin’ with yo’ ass out this late?”
“Just working.”
“Aw, shit.” His face contorted, and he belched. “You ain’t been out there after none that poontang pie?”
I scrunched my brow and slammed my car door. “What?”
He shook his empty beer can at me. “Them ladies. You’re too young’n be comin’ back here and spend’n the night with yo’ hand and some Vaseline.”
I waved a dismissive hand at him. “Go on to bed, Old Man.”
“Aw, alright then. Wastin’ yo’ damn youth.” And with that, he stumbled back to a cooler, grabbed a beer, and fell into the beat-up lawn chair by the back door. Crazy old man, I thought as I unlocked my door.
I flipped the light switch before I tossed my keys on the one end table in the room. Most days, I didn’t mind this shithole, but for some reason that day it made me feel like a failure. One bedroom. One bath. A kitchen with three cabinets and uneven flooring. Don’t get me wrong, I was grateful. Hell, I only paid three hundred a month for rent, but… I glanced at the “Golden Girls” replica couch I’d gotten from the Salvation Army, then at the bare walls with peeling wallpaper… Girls like Hannah—you didn’t bring them someplace like this.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. What the hell was I thinking? It was easy to pretend none of that mattered, especially with a girl as sweet as she was, but really… I could have taken her all the way out to Birmingham to have a nice steak dinner at J. Alexander’s, but eventually, I would have had no choice but to bring her back to my shitty house and then what? Then she’d have seen how much of a mismatch we were. Sure, a poor girl can get a rich guy, but the rich girl never goes for the poor guy. Hannah wasn’t exactly rich, but she sure as shit wasn’t poor.
Exhaling, I pulled my shirt off on the way to bed, and when I flopped down on the mattress to go to sleep, I could still smell her on my skin. I smiled at that and I pretended it all could work out.
I pretended I could be the guy she’d love. I pretended I could be the guy that would love her.
After all, dreaming was what life was about, right?
_
The Weeknd blared over the radio, and I sang along as I threw a sandwich together. Mayonnaise dribbled down my chin when I took a bite. When I turned around to grab a paper towel, Trevor had unexpectedly appeared in the middle of the kitchen and I nearly shit myself. “What the hell, man?” A piece of tomato fell from my mouth, splattering on the floor. “You can’t just walk into someone’s house.”
“Well, you didn’t answer the door.”
“What if I’d been beatin’ off or some shit?” I shook my head and took another bite.
“I take my chances.” He went to my fridge and snagged a beer.
“It’s lunch.”
He popped the tab. “Yep.” Then took a swig.
“Did ole’ Meg stay over last night?”
“Yeah.”
“God, you’re a dog, you know it? You don’t even like her.”
He grinned and took another gulp while pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “Sometimes I do.”
“What the hell are you doing over here?”
“We’re going to the Benson sisters’ house for a BBQ, remember?”
“What?” I said with a mouthful of sandwich.
“Yeah, we talked about it last week. Daisy was really excited.” He flashed a sleazy smile.
“Oh, hell no.” Daisy Benson was possibly the most annoying woman on the face of the earth. She had this irritating habit of not eating the last bite of her fries. She’d just toss the last piece down on her plate. It drove me nuts in high school. I was pretty sure it was the only reason I had never screwed her before. Well that, and her dog-whistle octave of laugh that ended in a snort. Every single time. “I’m not spending my entire day off with Daisy Benson while you try to sack Lori again.” I tossed a hand through the air like an umpire calling an out. “Hell no, man! Forget it.”