by Ranae Rose
A year ago, she wouldn’t have been bothered by something like that. She’d had confidence in herself, her boyfriend, and their relationship. Apparently, when all that had been flushed down the toilet, so had her maturity.
She pressed her lips together, sealing her mouth tightly shut. The last thing she wanted was for Ben to realize what a jealous nutcase she felt like.
Or how much it hurt to realize how badly Zander had damaged her trust in other people, even though she was over him.
“Last one?” Ben asked a minute later, pushing the pierogi basket toward her.
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Hey,” he said, laying a hand over the one she had resting on the tabletop. “What time do you get off work tonight?”
“I’m hoping to finish up sometime between nine and ten. Why?”
His eyes glimmered and the way he looked at her – letting his gaze drop low – told her that he was reliving the night before in his mind, too.
CHAPTER 12
After bidding her last client for the day goodbye, Hannah leaned back in her chair, stretched and sighed, glancing at the clock on the far wall.
It was only eight; she’d finished up earlier than expected. That meant she’d have a good chunk of Saturday night to spend with Ben.
She smiled. Though she’d spent the afternoon and evening wrapped up in her art, the tide of her lust for him rolled back in now that she was free to do as she pleased. Reaching for her purse, she pulled out her phone, which she kept on silent while working.
There was a text from Ben. Call when you get a chance. I have an idea for tonight.
Her smile broadened as she brought up his number and prepared to press call. What kind of idea? Plans to go out or stay in?
She’d have no objections if he wanted to stay in. She didn’t need to be wined and dined every time she stepped into his presence, and besides, they’d already gone out for lunch earlier that day.
“Hey,” she said when he answered. “I got your text.”
“Great. You still think you’ll be getting off work at nine or ten?”
“Actually, I finished up early. I’m done now.”
“Even better. The guys at the garage invited me to go out for drinks with them tonight. I usually turn them down since I don’t drink, but they say the pub they’re going to has good food. I figured you might like to go, since you’re new in town and haven’t met many people yet.”
“Are you sure they won’t mind if I show up? I don’t want to ruin things if it’s supposed to be a guys’ night out.”
“Nah, they’ll be thrilled when they see you. I think one of them is bringing his girlfriend, anyway. So it won’t be a total sausage fest.”
“All right then – sounds like fun.” He was right: she hadn’t met many people in Pittsburgh yet. The fact that he was willing to endure an evening at a pub as the sober one so she could socialize was too considerate of him for her to turn down.
“Should I pick you up at Hot Ink, or do you need to head home first?”
“It’s just a pub, right?” She glanced down at her jeans and black top. It was form-fitting with decorative ruching at the sides and a sweetheart neckline. It’d do for a casual night out.
“Right. If you’re worried about it being something fancy, don’t be. I don’t think the guys I work with would be caught dead anywhere they couldn’t wear jeans.”
“In that case, it’d be great if you picked me up. I just need to get my stuff cleaned up here before I’m ready to go.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour. How’s that?”
“Perfect.”
* * * * *
It was the first time Ben had been in a bar since he’d walked out of one in Jersey and straight into a criminal record. It brought back memories – memories that burnt as they went down, like the whiskey he could smell in the air. Still, when he got past those, it didn’t feel as weird as he might’ve imagined.
Having Hannah there helped. He’d been banking on her being one hell of a distraction, and he wasn’t disappointed. She sat next to him at the table their group had claimed near the bar, and stripped off her jacket.
Her short-sleeved top showed off her inked arms, plus a little cleavage. While everyone else tipped back their drinks, he indulged in letting his gaze settle on her chest, where soft curves hinted at what lay beneath.
Knowing he’d have her all to himself after they left felt better than any buzz. Not that part of him didn’t long for a drink.
Drinking had always been a pressure valve, an easy way to relax, at least for a few hours. He missed that aspect of it, but was a long way from forgetting that that option was only an illusion for him.
This night was a test, of sorts: a way to see if he could hack it through an evening out with people drinking without being too tempted or too miserable to not fuck it up. Hannah was his safety net, a temptation he could turn to at any time … and indulge in.
“You look so pretty,” he said, laying a hand on her thigh.
Between the music and noise, no one else could hear what he’d said.
She smiled as her fingertips skated over the sides of her cocktail glass, carving trails in the condensation. “These are just my work clothes.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’d make a paper bag look good.”
He squeezed her thigh and she shifted in her seat, laughing low enough that only he could hear.
When she touched him in return, her fingertips gravitated dangerously close to his half-hard dick and he had to bite back a sigh.
She wore her hair in the long braid she seemed to prefer for work. He longed to pull the elastic off the end and run his hands through her hair, until it was loose and messy.
“Are you sure you’re not bored?” she asked. “I still feel guilty about drinking in front of you.”
Her half-finished cocktail was her second drink of the night.
“How could I be bored when I get to watch Nick make an ass of himself?”
Nick was a mechanic at the garage – around Ben’s age, and totally lost in bourbon-induced euphoria. He was the one who’d brought his girlfriend, Jenna, and she seemed torn between amusement and embarrassment over his antics, which involved occasionally bursting into song and trying to get her to kiss him.
Pretty harmless overall, although Nick would probably have a hangover the next morning.
At least that was something Ben didn’t have to worry about.
“Is he always the life of the party?” Hannah asked.
“No, which is why it’ll be so funny to remind him of this on Monday.” Ben grinned.
The rest of the guys – three more in all – seemed to think it was hilarious too. But then, they’d all been drinking, so hilarity was the mood of the hour.
“Jenna says he did the same thing at her family’s Christmas Eve party.”
“Really?” Ben had noticed Jenna and Hannah talking earlier, though Nick was demanding all of Jenna’s attention now.
“Yeah. Apparently, it was only the second time he’d met her family, so it was pretty awkward.”
“I guess things are serious between them if they’re still together after he crashed the family holiday party.”
Hannah shrugged. “Well, she did say that one of her brothers was the instigator who started a drinking game, so maybe they’re used to a little drama at their get-togethers.”
“I can only imagine.”
“Why, doesn’t your family ever get a little melodramatic during gatherings?”
“It’s not that.” There was melodrama galore in his family, most of it generated by his parents. “It’s just that no one in my family would throw a party where anything as interesting as a drinking game happened.”
“No?”
“We don’t really have parties. We’re more of a sober, awkward dinner type of family.”
“That’s too bad. I’ll never forget the time my sister and I first snuck some champagne at a New Year’s Eve party. I was twelve and
she was ten – we only had a few sips, but we were on cloud nine. I remember feeling so sophisticated, hiding in the laundry closet and sipping it out of a plastic cup.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“I do. We’re good friends, but not as close as you and Dylan. She’s married and lives in Sacramento.”
Hannah tapped the tabletop with her nails, frowning slightly.
“Miss her?” Ben guessed.
“Yes. Of course, it wasn’t like we were living in the same city before. But we visited each other, from time to time. She liked coming to San Francisco to shop with me.”
“Maybe you can talk her into coming out to see Pittsburgh once you get settled in. Then you can help her play tourist.”
“I hope so. I plan to visit home for the holidays, too – Christmas through New Year’s week. Every year my parents have a little New Year’s Eve party with neighbors and friends, then have family over the next day to celebrate. My sister and I always help our mom cook holiday dishes for the family party. We do a mix of Japanese and American foods – it’s a lot of fun. Before I moved, I promised I wouldn’t miss it.”
She bit her lip, looking torn between wistfulness and happiness.
“Sounds nice.”
“It is.” Her expression blossomed into a smile. “Even though my sister is a better cook than me and loves to tease me about it.”
“No shame in that – I suck at cooking.”
“I like to think I’ve gotten better over time. Maybe I’ll surprise my sister with a decent meal when she visits.” Hannah’s expression brightened, and she sat up a little straighter in her seat. “For now though, Jenna mentioned a local housewares store she likes. We might go shopping together some time.”
Ben nodded, satisfied. The fact that Hannah seemed to have made a new friend erased his doubts about rejoining the bar scene. Now, it seemed worth it.
“What about the women at Hot Ink? Have you made any plans with them?”
“Not really. Zoe and I did order takeout together a couple times, but that’s about it. They’ve all been pretty welcoming, though.”
“I bet they could help you out with shopping too.”
“Maybe. Anyway, tell me more about your awkward family dinners. You and Dylan don’t seem like the type to come from a conservative family.”
Recognizing her willful change of the subject, he let it go. Not that he was eager to talk about his family, but for her, he’d throw himself under the bus for a few minutes.
“Afraid you’re wrong.” So fucking wrong. “Our parents are textbook holy rollers. They were pretty strict when we were growing up, especially with Dylan. I think they were too exhausted by the time he moved out to try as hard with me, so I got a little slack he didn’t.”
“Really? Well, I guess the apple falls pretty far from the tree sometimes. What do they do for a living?”
“Our dad is an insurance claims adjuster, and our mom is a medical records technician.”
“No artists or car lovers in the family, besides Dylan and you?”
“No. We’re a couple of black sheep.” Not so much because of their career choices – not Ben’s, anyway – but because of their lack of religious zeal. Combine that with the bipolar disorder they both had, and they were outsiders looking in on their family’s strict brand of normalcy.
“Hmm. Well, my mom is a paralegal, and my dad is a forensic scientist.”
“No kidding? Like on CSI or something?”
“Not exactly. He works in a lab, not for the police. He specializes in toxicology. His work is important to criminal investigations, though – he analyzes body fluids, tissue and stuff like that, and the information helps solve crimes.”
“Interesting. So, they don’t have a problem with you tattooing?”
Hannah smiled. “They were a little wary of my career choice at first, but they’ve gotten used to it. I’m happy and I can support myself, and that’s the core of what they wanted for me. Anyway, I’d been insisting I wanted to be an artist since age three or four. And my sister is a high school English teacher, so at least they have one child with a normal job.”
Wow. Ben tried to imagine a world where his parents approved of Dylan’s work just because he was happy and successful. It was like trying to imagine a cold sun. No matter how respected Dylan was within his field, their parents were embarrassed by it. Tattoos didn’t fit the conservative mold that defined their lives.
It didn’t bother them that Ben worked on cars, but pretty much everything else about him rubbed them the wrong way.
“Your family sounds great,” he said, and meant it. It was obvious Hannah loved her parents and her sister – her face lit up when she talked about them. If she’d left them on the other side of the country to escape the humiliation her ex had heaped on her, she must’ve really been hurting.
Ben recognized it, but he didn’t understand. He was an expert on shame, but only because of things he himself had done. How could Hannah feel so badly about something she’d been the victim of?
He didn’t get it, but could relate to her humiliation and desire for a fresh start regardless. He was sorry she’d been hurt, but having that aspect of his past in common with her made him feel closer to her than he should’ve after such a short while.
* * * * *
Hannah had initially planned to have two drinks, but found herself sipping a third as she spoke with Jenna. Her boyfriend, Nick, had slowed down enough to sober up just a little, giving her some breathing room.
“I need to buy a couch,” Hannah said. “And some kitchen appliances. Everything else can wait, but I need those things now.”
Jenna – a cute twenty-something blonde – seemed delighted at the opportunity to give shopping advice.
Hannah wasn’t complaining. It was nice to be making a female friend. It made her feel a little more normal, a little more at home in Pittsburgh.
“I know the perfect furniture store,” Jenna said. “They sell overstock items – good quality, but low prices. And that kitchenware store I love is just a few minutes’ drive from there. I’ve been dying to buy one of those countertop mixers – we should go together next weekend.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Great. Nick hates shopping, and it’s more fun for me if I have a partner in crime. Most of my friends are in new relationships and flake out on me whenever we make weekend plans.” Jenna rolled her eyes. “Speaking of which, how long have you and Ben been together?”
“We just started dating, but I won’t flake out on you – I’m too desperate for furniture.”
“Oh, really? You two seem so comfortable together. I figured you’d been dating a while.”
“Nope.” Hannah glanced at Ben, her pulse quickening like it always did when she looked at him. It was getting late and she had a buzz, which encouraged thoughts of how she and Ben would spend the rest of the night after leaving the pub.
“Well, you’ve clearly left a lot of other women disappointed.”
“What do you mean? Oh…”
Apparently, the waitress who’d been serving their table had gone home, or was otherwise occupied. A new waitress sauntered up, flashing Ben a big smile.
Déjà vu hit Hannah as she watched the thirty-ish brunette place one hand on her hip, wriggling a little as she asked Ben if she could get him a drink.
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Believe it or not, this is the second time today a waitress has flirted with him like that. They swoop out of nowhere like hawks when he’s around.”
“I can believe it,” Jenna said, her tone dry. “I mean, look at him.”
A mere foot of space separated Hannah’s seat from Ben’s, but the noise kept him from overhearing her and Jenna’s conversation.
“You have a point,” Hannah admitted. “I guess I should expect it.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure some guy will hit on you in front of Ben, and he’ll hate watching it just as much as you do.” Jenna grinned.
“I
don’t know; I’m usually left alone while I’m with him. He’s not exactly a wimpy-looking guy.”
“Well, to his credit, he doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck about anything that waitress has to say.”
It was true – he looked bored.
“Nothing for me,” he said for the second time, then turned to Hannah. “Do you want anything?”
“No.” She’d just started on her third drink and didn’t need a fourth. The last thing she wanted was to make a drunken ass out of herself in front of Ben, whose sober mind would recall every detail.
One of the guys at the far end of the table motioned for the waitress and ordered a sandwich. “For Nick. He’ll need something to soak up the alcohol.”
Although no longer raucous, Nick was looking a little out of it.
The waitress slowed her stride when she walked by Ben, and Hannah bit the inside of her lip as her annoyance came to a head.
She wasn’t mad at Ben. She wasn’t even really mad at the waitress. But she was mad at herself.
Mad because she couldn’t even watch a ditzy waitress make an annoyance of herself without recalling in brutal clarity how it felt to be betrayed. The sight of other women flirting with Ben resurrected the ghosts of the pains she’d meant to leave behind in California, making her feel inadequate, somehow.
The memory of walking into Zander’s workspace to find him bending a ‘client’ over his chair was nauseatingly vivid. Every time it flashed before her mind’s eye, she was stricken by what a fool she’d been – how she’d ignored the signs.
“Cheer up,” Jenna said, elbowing Hannah in the side and flashing her another smile. “You’re much prettier than her anyway.”
Hannah smiled and laughed off her bad mood – outwardly, anyway. On the inside, she remembered the magnetic effect Zander had on women. Tall, reasonably brawny and with more tattoos than anyone could count, he’d given off a bad boy vibe that women flocked to like moths to flame. Hannah had always thought of his habit of flirting in return as his way of letting them down easy. He’d never shown any serious interest…