Worth the Risk(40)

“Not plans really, just ideas.”

“And?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe more than riding. More ways kids could be active outside, do their physical therapy without it feeling like work. They’ve already been hurt so much. Maybe more animals, rescue dogs, abused horses. A place they could all heal together.”

“Like things kids would normally do playing with their friends. Maybe a special playground with ramps and pulleys?”

She sat up to face him. “Yes. You get it. You see it.” She told him more about animals and kids, her eyes shining with excitement, her voice animated.

He loved seeing her happy like this and he did see it. The play set in Matt’s backyard with modifications. Ropes and harnesses for the rock wall and monkey bars, special swings. Plans began to form in his mind, and he decided then and there, she wasn’t going to lose this land.

She settled back against him again, resting her head in the space between his chest and shoulder. “What about you? Any dreams or have you already achieved them all?”

“I don’t know.” He’d made enough money, outwitted enough worthy opponents. There had to be something more.

“I think you’d be good at building. You know, the actual planning part. You see things others don’t, like where benches should be to watch sunsets.”

His chest tightened. He’d barely made mention of that at the boardwalk, practically made the comment under his breath. But Hannah had listened and remembered. More than that, she saw something good in the man he was now. Not wanting him to be anything other than what he was in this moment. What he might be in the future. Who did he have in his life who hadn’t known him before and wasn’t waiting for him to return to his old self? Not counting his flings between the sheets, who he made sure didn’t see any side of him.

They were quiet awhile and he combed his fingers through her hair, letting the cool silk of it fall over his hands. He imagined the soft pieces falling over his nude body, imagined she was naked against him. He continued the motion. Peaceful. Mesmerizing. Or as peaceful as he could get sitting this close to her, because he we also getting very hot. “I love your hair.”

She took hold of a section, wrapped it around her finger, and pulled it across her face.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Hide,” he said, covering her hand with his and easing it down.

“I’m not. I…don’t.” She let it go. “Bad habit, I guess.”

Leaning around to face her, he lifted up long strands and brushed them over his lips, under his nose. He breathed in the fruity scent, sighed at the baby softness. “I could get in the habit.”

Color rose in her creamy cheeks and it made him hot knowing he could make her flush with just a look. He slid one arm around her back and captured her mouth in a deep, probing kiss. They explored, stroked; tasting her again made him crave more. He ached for her in a way that felt like a lot more than want and taking a dangerous slide toward need.

Her arms circled his neck and he pulled her closer, letting his hand drift from her hip upward to the underside of her breast. Just far enough to tease the curves that had teased him in the barn. His fingers skated under the edge of her shirt, and he wanted to relieve her of the entire thing.

She pulled her mouth from his at the same time her fingers clamped down on his wrist. “Don’t.”

He’d reached the no-go line. His hand came to an abrupt halt but his heart raced ahead.

She stretched the hem of her shirt down over the top of her jeans. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft, breathy, and it took him a second to come back to himself. As much as he wanted her, he had to slow it down. Making out on the couch was evidently way different than kissing against the barn wall.

With a finger under her chin, he gently raised her face. Again he wanted to ask if someone had hurt her. Was there some weird brotherly power thing going on? But her eyes seemed to beg him not to, implored him to let it go. So he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, sat back, and pulled her into his side. “Maybe we should do some of that TV watching.”

—

An hour later he stood on her front porch working himself up to goodbye. This shouldn’t be so hard. He was open and honest with women. No games. And Hannah didn’t want games. She’d asked him, begged him, not to play with her. But that’s all he did. Anything more serious with a woman just thrust him back to a time of loss and pissed him off.

Hannah stared up at him, all wide-eyed and innocent, her cloud of hair blowing gently around her shoulders. He opened his mouth to say I don’t do relationships. “Thank you for dinner.”