She’d been a reckless teen in those reports. Now, having met her, I struggle with believing that’s the real story. Now, I see a woman who never felt comfortable enough in her skin when she was younger. Like she never belonged. A woman who was once a girl that had a hard time making friends and felt uncomfortable around men.
I clench my fists.
A girl who was assaulted and taken advantage of.
And I wonder if that money might have made her life better.
Different.
Not so full of turmoil.
I know that there’s a storm coming our way. Something intense and painful and… I feel helpless to stop it.
Because I want her here. In my house. Spending time with Ivy. Sitting at the pool. Laughing and signing and drinking disgusting vodka sodas.
But I also know that wanting her here is probably the last thing I should be doing.
I can make out some of what they’re saying from here, their hands moving in flurries as they giggle and share. Stuff about the house and how their days have been so far. But I turn away from them and head into the kitchen to make the three of us some drinks.
I’m just finishing putting together a vodka soda, Shirley Temple, and three fingers of scotch when Ivy comes barreling into the kitchen, nearly knocking me over.
Can we grab a bathing suit for Hannah from the guesthouse? I invited Hannah to go swimming.
“It’s okay if it doesn’t work out,” I hear Hannah say from behind me.
I turn to look at her.
“A dip in the pool after a run like that sounds awesome, but I don’t want to impose.”
I’ll go get her a swimsuit, Ivy says, then darts out of the room.
Hannah walks over to where I’m standing and gives me a soft smile. “If it’s trouble, I swear, it’s really not a big deal. I can totally go home.”
“No, no. You should go in the pool.”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea!” Vicky comes waltzing into the kitchen with a basket of laundry. “That pool doesn’t get enough use. I’ll go help Ivy pick out a suit for you.”
I smile. “Hannah, this is Vicky. She’s everything to us. Like another mother. Vicky, this is Hannah.”
Vicky grins and continues bustling through towards the door out to the courtyard. “Nice to meet you Hannah! Gimme five minutes and you’ll be dipping into that cool pool water.”
“She’s friendly,” Hannah says, giggling. “Is she your… nanny? Or maid?”
“Yes,” I say, and we both laugh. “She’s been around since my brother Ben and I were babies. She’s housekeeper, nanny, assistant to my mother, and a bunch of other things rolled into one. She’s family, though.”
Hannah smiles. “I like that.” Then she pulls her phone out of her pocket. “I’m gonna let Lucas know I won’t be home for a while.”
“Invite him over, if you want.”
She nods. “Sounds good.”
Then she wanders off, her phone pressed to her ear.
I shake my head.
Never did I ever think Hannah Morrison would be in my house, hanging out with Ivy, and dipping into our pool.
Life is fucking crazy.
A little while later, I’m dropping a stack of towels out on a lounge chair when Hannah walks outside in the bathing suit she borrowed from the sets we keep in the guest house.
It wouldn’t matter what else was happening right now… a parade, a drum banging in my face, literal fireworks… I can’t tear my eyes away.
She’s in a white bikini, the triangles at the top fitting her breasts perfectly, the bows tied at her hips enticing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman in a bathing suit before and felt like someone was choking me. But that’s how I feel right now.
Because she is absolutely breathtaking.
And when her eyes find mine, she stops moving. They dip down, over my bare chest and down my swim trunks to my feet before coming back up to gaze at my chest and arms. Over the tattoo on my bicep that I got while I was in college.
And then when she realizes she’s been gawking, she flushes and turns away, reaching for her drink that’s been sitting on the patio table and probably melting in the hot sun of this May afternoon.
“I’m glad the suit fits,” I say, wandering in her direction, wanting a closer look at her curves. And that’s when I notice a tattoo on her left side. “Is that a tattoo?”
Hannah turns, moves her arm out of the way and glances down. “Yeah. I got it on my eighteenth birthday. It was a gift from my friend Sienna.”
I reach out and trace the tattoo slightly. It says ‘free’ in script, and has a feather underneath. Suddenly, I realize what I’m doing and I yank my hand back.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have…” But I pause when I see the heated look in her eyes. That her breathing has picked up, her chest rising and falling with more effort than our earlier run had produced.
“It’s okay,” she says, her eyes locked with mine.
We stand there for a moment, just watching each other.
If she were a girl I’d invited over to party, I’d step into her space right now. Bring my mouth an inch from hers. Watch her lips part as I place a hand on her hip.
Then wait for her to step into me.
And I’d do what I’ve been imagining doing. Press all my hardness against her soft.
I’ve done it in the past, and it usually works. Whether it’s the seduction, the flirting, or just chemistry, I’ve never had an issue with getting a woman’s attention.
And I’m tempted. Especially when I see her eyes drop to my mouth, her tiny tongue peeking out to wet her lips, probably without her even realizing what she’s doing.
“Alright, who wants a margarita!”
Vicky’s voice has us both stepping apart and looking in her direction. Ivy comes running out behind her, a smile on her face.
I love seeing my sister’s energy up, when she’s overwhelmed with happiness because life is so good in the moment that she doesn’t think to care about the drama that her own circumstances is causing.
She’s a much younger twelve-year-old than I was.
When I was her age, I’d already had my first drink. Already made out with a few girls and got a handy from Rita Sholes at an overnight trip we went to as an eighth grade class. I was broody, rebellious and determined and always out doing something.
Ivy only has a handful of friends, a group of girls who are just as sheltered and protected as she is. She’s tutored privately and rarely goes anywhere without a family member present.
I’ve wondered a few times which one of us had it better. If the freedom to be a mess and fuck around and make mistakes is a better life than being protected from everything.
“I’ll take a margarita,” Hannah says, giving Vicky a smile and accepting a bottle of sunscreen handed to her by Ivy.
Your skin is pretty white like mine. Make sure to cover up or you’ll burn.
Hannah glances to me with a small smile, then looks back to Ivy. Thank you. I’ll make sure to do that.
I make a beeline for the kitchen, intent on helping Vicky with the drinks and avoiding the opportunity to watch Hannah rub her body in lotion.
Vicky eyes me when I come up behind her. “What’s up?”
“Just helping.”
She raises a brow, then pulls two margarita glasses out of the cabinet. When she turns back to look at me, I see skepticism.
“Since when?”
I roll my eyes. “You act like I never help with things.”
“That’s because you don’t.”
“Well, maybe I’ve changed since I moved to San Francisco.”
Vicky snorts. “Whatever, pumpkin. Go get the tequila.”
I spend a few minutes helping her make our drinks in silence, refusing to let myself peek out to the pool.
“So, who’s the girl?”
“Her name’s Hannah. She’s Lucas’ sister.”
Vicky hums as she drops a lime into each drink. But then,
out of the corner of my eye, I see her pause. Look up at me.
“Hannah… Morrison?”
I run my tongue over my teeth, fuming at myself for not realizing that my mother talks to Vicky about everything.
I made the mistake once. Just once. In an argument with my mother about dad and money and a bunch of bullshit, I told her.
About Henry’s remaining family.
About Hannah.
“Wyatt,” she whispers, her eyes wide. “What are you doing?”
I push my shoulders back. “None of your business, Vicky.” And then I take a drink in each hand and turn to head out to the patio, guilt tugging wildly at my throat as I leave her in my wake.
“Drink time,” I call out, and Hannah turns my way, tapping Ivy on the shoulder.
I put your Shirley Temple in the fridge earlier, I tell Ivy once I’ve set the margaritas down on the small table between two pool loungers.
She scampers inside.
“This is delicious,” Hannah says, taking a second sip of her margarita, then licking her lips.
I’m not even the slightest bit embarrassed to say it gets me a little bit hard. Though I’m also not a creep, so I take a seat on a lounger, discretely adjusting my shorts.
“So, what does your tattoo mean?” I ask. “I meant to ask before.”
“It’s going to sound stupid, so just remember that I was eighteen when I got it.”
“Like you’re that much older now,” I joke.
She smiles. “I’m almost twenty-two. I’m definitely older now.” Hannah sets her drink down next to mine and heads over to the steps to the pool, dipping a toe in, before walking slowly down into the water. “Free is exactly what it sounds like. I always felt like I was… I don’t know, imprisoned in these foster homes where no one ever really gave a shit about me. And around that time, I’d started to forgive myself for my own mistakes. It just felt like the right word.”
She lifts her arms and tugs out her ponytail, her long hair tumbling down over her shoulders. “And the feather was how I felt at the time. Like I was just being blown all over the place with no clear… anything. No family, nowhere to go, nothing that mattered.” She shrugs. “I decided to embrace it. See it as being free rather than being lost. Otherwise I never would have moved on.”
She lowers into the water, floating for a second, dipping her head back into the pool then rising out.
“I know it sounds ridiculous…”
“It doesn’t.” I shake my head, the wonder I feel when I look at her continuing to grow. The coincidence that I’d used almost that exact same analogy when thinking about her spirit while we were on the run earlier. “It’s anything but ridiculous, Hannah.”
She gives me a little smile, then dips back into the water so only her eyes and the top of her head can be seen.
I turn and grab my drink just as Ivy joins us outside, a Shirley Temple in her hand.
Look who’s here! she says, a big smile on her face.
Lucas appears from behind her, swim trunks on, towel in-hand.
He gives me a grin and a wink. “Time for a dip.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Hannah
I grin as I count my tips for the evening. Four hundred and eighty-seven buckaroos. In one shift. I can’t ever remember making that much money in one evening before, let alone on a Wednesday.
I tuck it away and finish cashing out with Hamish.
“Don’t forget, this weekend is Memorial Day weekend. Everyone gets scheduled, no exceptions,” he says, giving me a glare that lets me know he means business. “Holiday weekends are smashed around here. The schedule has been up for two weeks, so unless you’re in the hospital, no calling in sick.”
I nod. “No problem. I’ll be here.”
Hamish grins, his face relaxing slightly. Then he hands me my receipt for the day, and heads off to do whatever managers do to close everything down. Once I finish tipping the bussers and hosts, I’m still pocketing over four hundred bucks.
Smiling, I swing through the kitchen and staff room to grab my backpack, then venture out the side door, towards the loading area.
But before I even unlock my bike, I hear my name.
I look over my shoulder and grin when I see Paige strutting my way. “Tell me you’re not going home right now.”
“Uhmmmmmm…” I look at my phone, seeing that it’s nearly twelve o’clock. “Yeah, I’m going home right now.”
Paige laughs, but continues walking in my direction. She looks amazing, as usual. Her short hair is styled and teased, and she’s wearing a red dress that leaves little to the imagination paired with some sky-high heels, though she’s still shorter than me when she finally reaches where I’m standing.
“Well, it’s time to change your plans, lady. We’re going out!”
I shake my head. “I have to work tomorrow morning and then I have a double on Friday and night shifts all weekend. I need to go home and crawl in bed.”
Paige pouts. “Oh, come on.”
“It’s a Wednesday.”
“Yeah, it’s Wave Wednesday during summer. Half-price drinks!”
I purse my lips and Paige’s shoulders slump. “Pleeeeeease. It’s no fun going out with just the guys, and Lennon went on a trip to visit her grandpa in Boston.” She twists her fingers together like she’s praying, tucks her hands under her chin. “Please, please, please,” Paige whispers. “If you come, I won’t tell everyone that you went on a run with Wyatt.”
My eyebrows fly off my face. “How do you know about that?”
She lifts a single shoulder, her expression mischievous. “I have my sources.”
I rest a hand on my hip and give her a saucy grin right back. “First of all, I don’t care if people know Wyatt and I went on a run. We’re friends. And second, if your sources know, then it isn’t a secret worth bartering with.”
Paige sticks a lip out. “You’re no fun. I only know because I saw you together. Nobody else knows.” She looks side-to-side. “But between you and me? That boy is sooooooo into you.”
I laugh. “What? No. No, no, no. He’s not…” I shake my head. “Nah.”
Paige claps her hands and jumps up and down. Impressive, considering those shoes. “Ohmygawwww and you like him tooooooo!”
I continue to laugh in a painfully awkward way, shaking my head. “You could not be further from the truth, Paige. Really. Nope, nope, nope.”
She twirls her hips back and forth, still giving me a ridiculous smile. “You know you wanna come with meeeeeee. Besides.” She leans forward and whispers. “Wyatt’s coming tonight.”
I take a deep breath.
Clearly a mistake.
“Knew it!” she says, pointing at me. “Ugh, you guys need to bone, ASAP.”
My whole body flushes red. Like, head-to-toe, lobster red. Just the idea of sex with Wyatt… I can’t even finish that thought. And honestly, I’m a little embarrassed that it came to mind at all.
Paige giggles, but then steps closer and bumps me with her hip. “Come on, pretty girl. Lucas was the one who told me you’d be here. Come out with us. It’ll be so fun!”
Part of me wants to go with her. But part of me also wants to climb into the shower and wash away the smell of working in a restaurant, then curl into my jammies and call it a night.
“Let’s go back inside and doll you up a little bit, huh?”
I let out a sigh.
“Yes! I knew you’d give in eventually. Being annoying is my best trait.”
At that, I can’t help but laugh.
Paige leads me through The Wave a little while later, weaving in and out of bodies and heading towards the back wall.
I felt like I was learning something important as I watched her work me over in the bathroom at Bennie’s once we’d gone back inside.
She pulled my hair down and used water to give it a styled look. Made me take off my work shirt so I’m wearing tight black pants and a black tank top, then sprayed me with something that smells
really, really amazing. Then she gave me a little bit of darkness, some black eyeliner and plum colored lipstick.
I might not be my best version of me, but it’s a definite step up from what I normally feel like at the end of a shift.
“It’s just a spritz of sexy,” she’d said.
I’m not a person who laughs a lot, but the shit Paige says always has me trying not to giggle. Though, I’m learning there’s a lot to Paige that I don’t know.
When we got here, she walked straight up to the bouncer, bypassing the long line, kissed his cheek and waltzed right in, only looking back long enough to wave me along.
And now we’re in what Paige told me is the number one club in Hermosa, stepping past another bouncer into a VIP section behind those ropes you see at movie premieres on TV.
“You got her to come!”
I spot Lucas, sitting along the back wall in between a group of people I don’t recognize. He has a big smile on his face and his eyes are glassy.
“I didn’t think you’d come if I invited you,” he says to me, then looks to his friend. “Good job, Paige.”
She gives him a salute, then takes a seat in the booth next to his, leaving me to decide whether I want to sit at Paige’s table or Lucas’.
All I can wonder is which table Wyatt’s going to sit at.
“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” I announce to no one in particular, then spin around and head back out of the VIP section and away from the fancy people.
It takes a few minutes at the regular bar, but I finally manage to shimmy my way up to the front.
“Vodka soda,” I say, once I’ve gotten a bartender’s attention.
He nods, moving down the bar and throwing it together quickly. Once he’s handed it over, he tells me it’s twelve dollars.
I laugh. “Are you serious? I thought drinks were half off tonight”
He just looks at me, so I dig into my bag for my wallet.
“I’ve got it.”
The voice has my hand freezing and my head flying up, finding the green eyes that I’ve been so enjoying looking into ever since I saw them for the first time a few weeks ago.
“Gotcha. I’ll add it to your tab,” the bartender says, then he’s gone before I can even try to pay for it myself.
Promise Me Nothing (Hermosa Beach Book 1) Page 20