Worth the Risk(33)
“Hannah, please. Don’t go yet. I’m sorry.”
She still faced her car, but didn’t open the door.
“Look at me.” He could have counted his heartbeats waiting for her to turn, afraid he’d lost all the ground of trust he’d gained in the last eight hours.
Finally, she turned and gave him a half-smile. “It’s okay. I just need to go.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
He silently thanked God when her face softened. Not wanting to waste an answered prayer, he kissed her cheek. Then with nothing more, he opened her door. “Lock up,” he told her through the glass. He heard the click, the start of the engine, then he watched until her taillights disappeared into the night.
Damn, he was in trouble. Because if there was something in between everything and nothing, he was going to have it with Hannah.
—
Three days later, Hannah washed and dried her hands in her bathroom, catching herself in the mirror on the way out. She looked different. Happy. Not that she was normally unhappy, but there was a new spark there that even she could see. And that spark was Stephen. She still felt the heat of his firm lips moving against hers, his muscled shoulders under her hands.
She replayed the kiss for the millionth time. His mouth had been soft, his lips persuasive. He wouldn’t know it was her first, would likely be appalled if he did. If he knew what it meant to her that she’d trusted him enough to get that close. She touched her lips and smiled into the mirror. Yeah, she liked him. A lot.
She walked into the main room, noting the way Zach was slumped comfortably on her couch, in contrast to Luke’s coiled energy in a nearby chair. Both content to let Nick cook.
“Hey, Nicky.” Zach waggled an empty beer can over his head. “Bring me another one while you’re up, would you?”
Nick sent a deadly look over his shoulder from where he stood at the stove. “I’m not up, ass wipe. I’m cooking your dinner.”
Hannah took the can as she passed. “I thought firemen were supposed to know how to cook.”
Zach settled deeper and propped his feet on the coffee table. “Who says I don’t? But why would I when Nick’s so good at it?”
Nick cursed under his breath. “You better hope you find a woman who’s into nurturing.”
“Nurturing?” Luke sipped his beer. “He needs to be nursed. Look at him. He wouldn’t even dress himself if it wasn’t required by law.”
“Who says I do dress myself, Skywalker? Had some very beautiful help this morning.”
“Eww.” Hannah scrunched her nose, returning with the beer. “TMI, Zach.”
“Who was it this time?” Luke asked. “Candy? Brandy? Mandy? You’re like a fucking Dr. Seuss.”
Zach grinned, twisting off the bottle top. “You forgot Bambi.”
“That doesn’t rhyme, idiot.”
Zach countered with a pillow flung hard at Luke’s face, almost knocking over a lamp.
“Boys. I’m going to be pissed if you break something.” Her warning didn’t stop Luke from chucking it right back. Not that she wasn’t used to it. Her brothers were here more often than not.
They said it was cleaner. True, but it was more because they liked to check on things. Doors, windows, locks. And before they left tonight, one, or all of them, would double-check that her handgun was loaded and within easy reach. Learning to shoot, getting a license to carry so she could take it in her car, had been big-brother nonnegotiable.
They’d remind her to make sure her phone was charged and on. Then they’d stand outside, refusing to leave the porch until they heard the click of deadbolts. A revolving show of male protectiveness all done in love to make her feel safer. Though really, it just reminded her of all the reasons she needed to be scared. Of what could happen when she wasn’t as careful as she should be. What had happened.
—
When the last dish was dried and put away, Luke and Zach excused themselves. Hannah sat on the front porch swing with Nick and watched the two sets of taillights get swallowed up by the trees. He was always the last to leave, but soon he’d go too.
She’d moved out of his house to be on her own, not necessarily to be alone. Being without Max was harder than she’d thought. Coming into the house after dark to utter silence was lonelier than she’d imagined. But this was her life. She refused to be bothered by it. Maybe she’d get another dog. A rescue dog. But not yet.
Crickets chirped and the wind made a barely-there sound. It’d be a loud rush when the trees were full of leaves. The supporting chains groaned in protest, then gave in to the steady back-and-forth rhythm as Nick rocked them with his foot. This was the same swing that had been on their parents’ porch. The same one her mother had rocked her on at night. A story she’d begged her brother to retell over the years.