Hannah And The Hellion (Silhouette Treasury 90s)

by Christine Flynn

  He motioned to the boat. “What’s going on?”

  Hannah stopped an arm’s length away. Watching the rain sluice over the confusion in his rugged features, she crossed her arms and fought a shiver that had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with nerves. “Mr. Feldson wanted to know what I was doing down here. When I told him, he said he wanted to help. Ernie said he wanted to help you, too.”

  “The wanted to help me? I can’t believe they’d do that.” He shook his head, his eyes narrowing on hers. “I can’t believe you came down here in this, either.”

  The disbelief in his voice made Hannah’s heart ache. It was as if he couldn’t believe anyone could care about him at all.

  “They did it to show their support for what you did for Louie,” she told him, wondering if that was why he’d had such compassion for the old guy. Louie hadn’t had anyone who really cared about him, either. “I did it because I love you.”

  She had no idea how Damon reacted to that little revelation. Or if he even cared. Ducking her head, she started past him, wanting badly to get out of the wind and the rain, and to avoid the thunder that she just knew was going to come booming across the lake any second.

  She’d taken two steps when she felt Damon’s arm come down around her shoulders. Her third step faltered, but he was pushing her on, apparently as anxious as she was to get away from the cold rain whipping sideways through the air and the white-capped waves lapping at their feet.

  Hurrying along with him, she jogged up the stairs, lifting her head only long enough to see where he was angling them. Not until he’d practically shoved her inside his truck and climbed in on the other side did she consider that he hadn’t seemed surprised to find her there.

  “I put your other board up,” he said, which explained why he’d known where she was. “You don’t need to worry about something coming through that window.”

  Hannah’s response was a quiet “Thank you” as he wiped rain from his face and reached for the steering wheel. He didn’t turn the ignition, as she’d thought he would, however. With her focus on the droplets of water puddling around a silver toggle on her coat, she felt him hesitate just before he hooked his wrists over the steering wheel and turned his head toward her.

  Damon knew what he’d heard moments ago on the dock. He also knew Hannah wasn’t terribly happy with what she’d said. She looked defensive and faintly combative. The way she had the day she’d admitted she’d fired her cook in defense of him. Then she’d been defending a principle, and she’d all but dared him to challenge her right to do that. She had that same look now, complete with the same uneasiness she’d felt about the storm.

  Maybe that was when he’d fallen in love with her.

  The realization might have come with more of a jolt if he hadn’t already accepted how much he needed her. For the past two days, he’d thought of nothing but her and Louie. About how empty the old man’s life was, and how empty his own would be without her in it. He just wasn’t sure now how he could do what was right for either of them.

  Wind buffeted the truck. Rain pounded the roof and windows. Every breath they expelled fogged the windows a little more. He could turn on the heater. He could take her home. But he didn’t want to move. The silence stretching between them felt brittle enough to shatter.

  “Do you mind if I ask where you were?” Her glance bounced off his chin, totally avoiding his eyes as she wiped water from her cheeks.

  “I went to Brainerd to find the home Louie’s in,” he replied, taking another swipe at the drips leaking down from his hair. “Neil left word that I wasn’t to get anywhere near him, so we didn’t talk, but I hired him an attorney in case Neil tries to challenge his competency.” He caught a rivulet racing down his neck. “The guy’s supposed to meet with him tomorrow.”

  He’d hired Louie an attorney. The knowledge did something strange to the ache in Hannah’s chest. “Louie won’t be there,” she replied, wondering what it would take for Damon to realize how good he truly was. “The deacon from the church went to see him yesterday. He wanted you to go with him, but you weren’t home.”

  “Why did he want me to go?”

  “Because you’re Louie’s friend,” she said simply, daring a quick glance at his profile. “Everyone could see that.” She returned her attention to a toggle on her coat, flicking at the puddle around it. “A group of men are going down tomorrow to move him back to his home. The sheriff’s one of them. I don’t think you’ll ever be his favorite person, but he respects what you did for Louie.”

  “Then he didn’t think I shoved Neil?”

  “Deacon Jim told him you didn’t. I guess he was sitting where he could see everything. Even if you had, I don’t think the sheriff would have cared. He was feeling pretty bad about having gone along with Neil. People take care of their own around here. They were appalled that Neil would have done something like that.”

  “Like he admitted it,” Damon muttered.

  “It’s more like he can’t convincingly deny it,” she replied, ignoring the chip on his shoulder as she so often did. As long as it had been there, it would take forever to whittle it away. “He’s still trying, but people remember all his grumbling when he’d have to do something for his uncle. The part about him worrying about the money can’t be proved, but it’s what you said about his medication that has people really upset with him. Neil was too willing to label him senile and tuck him out of the way.” She caught a drip at the end of her nose. “At least you were willing to stick up for him.” Her voice quieted, becoming barely audible over the pounding rain. “You were a good friend to him, Damon.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw the telltale muscle in his jaw tighten.

  “If I’d been that good a friend, I’d have asked him to help me repair nets or something this summer instead of ignoring his offer. He loves working around boats. It would have given him something to look forward to.”

  He’d been beating himself up ever since he left. She was sure of it. The self-recrimination lacing his tone made it clear that he blamed himself on several levels for what had happened. “You can still ask him to help.”

  “I don’t know if I can or not, Hannah. Associating with me only causes problems.” His hands tightened on the wheel. “I don’t know what to do about him.” Hesitating, he glanced toward her. “Or you.”

  The tension in him found its counterpart in her. A knot the size of a lemon lodged beneath her breastbone. “You don’t have to do anything about me.”

  “Yeah, I do. I love you. I just don’t know what I can do about it.”

  Hannah’s heart slammed against the knot. Scarcely believing what she’d heard, she slowly, finally, looked over at him.

  He was soaked. His dark hair was so wet it looked black in the gray light of the truck’s cab. He’d nicked his chin shaving. And he looked as if he hadn’t slept in two days. Lines of strain were etched around his beautiful mouth and fanned from the corners of his cloud gray eyes. He seemed more weary than defensive, and far more uncertain than she’d ever known him to be.

  That weariness deepened when his hands slid from the wheel and he pushed his fingers through his hair. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to figure it out.”

  Afraid to let hope build, unable to stop it, she willed her voice not to tremble. “Have you considered that maybe this isn’t something you’re supposed to figure out by yourself? I know you’re used to making decisions on your own. But, Damon,” she murmured, “you’re not alone anymore.”

  She didn’t think the thought had occurred to him. She knew for certain it hadn’t when she saw incomprehension wash over his expression. An instant later, pain replaced it.

  She hadn’t expected that pain. Or the wrenching sensation she felt when she saw it. She knew he’d chosen his isolation. She just hadn’t suspected how deeply he longed for what he denied himself. In his eyes was the anguish of a man who’d never had reason to believe life could be any way other than what it was.


  That tortured look remained as he slowly lifted his hand to her jaw. The way he hesitated before he skimmed his finger over her skin made her think he was almost afraid to touch her, afraid that if he allowed himself to reach, she might disappear.

  Damon’s heart hurt. He’d never known the feeling before, but the bruised, too-tight feeling had been there ever since he’d walked away from her at the church. As he touched her now, seeing the concern and the anxiety in her eyes, his chest ached so badly it was almost hard to breathe. He’d never felt so vulnerable in his life as he did just then. Before she had come along, he’d kept to himself, and his armor had been firmly in place. He’d known how to protect himself, how to keep from caring. But he’d allowed her to draw him out, and the crack in that armor was huge.

  He slipped his finger down the side of her neck, her soft skin warm and slick from the rain. “When we were talking about Louie...” he said, his voice rough with thoughts he hadn’t been able to shake. “You said the positive changes in him might be because he finally felt necessary...like he was part of something. And that taking that feeling away from him was probably what made him feel like giving up.” He knew exactly how Louie felt. Before Hannah had come along, he’d never thought of how lonely he’d been. Emptiness had simply been part of his life. Having known her, the thought of going back to what he’d had was almost more than he could face.

  “You made me feel part of something, too,” he told her, the ache in his chest starting to burn. “I don’t want to leave that. I want to marry you. I want us together. But I can’t just ask you to give up what you’ve worked so hard for and go away with me somewhere. And if we stayed here, your life wouldn’t be anything like what you wanted.”

  He was still doing it. Pulling her to him with one hand, pushing her away with the other. Only now he was talking about her entire future.

  “And what if what I want is you?”

  She couldn’t remember the number of times they’d admitted that to each other. I want you. They couldn’t be in each other’s arms without the thought, the words, passing between them. Those thoughts and words were in Damon’s eyes now as his glance moved over her rain-slicked skin and the droplets clinging to the ends of the hair the wind had wrested from its clip. The “want” she meant was so much more than physical need. It always had been. And she suspected he’d always been aware of that as he slowly pushed her wet hair back from her face.

  “Then I’d have to say you’ve got me,” he murmured, drawing her closer.

  Thunder built, seeming to hover in the distance before it raced across the lake with the wind. Hannah scarcely noticed its jarring boom, or the apocalyptic crash of waves and rain surrounding them. What made her heart lurch was the feel of Damon’s mouth settling over hers in a kiss so tender she couldn’t tell if the dampness on her cheeks was rain, or tears. He touched her as if she were made of crystal, taking small sips from the corners of her mouth, gently opening her to him to seek her warmth. He drew her against him, deepening the kiss as if he’d really meant to pull back, but now that her taste was on his tongue, he had to have just a little more. It was always like that with him. He could never quite get enough.

  There was no mistaking the hunger in him when he pulled back. But the worry was still there, too. She had no trouble sensing it as he rested his forehead against hers.

  “So.” He breathed out the word, his voice oddly husky. “What are we going to do?”

  Willing her own breathing to slow down, Hannah stared down at where his big hand rested on her thigh. “You said something to me once...about how a person had to make a place for himself if he didn’t fit in anywhere.” With the tips of her fingers, she touched the heavy yellow cloth of his coat where it covered his heart. “This is where I belong,” she murmured. “And this,” she added, moving his hand from her leg to hold it against the beating in her chest, “is where you already are.

  “I’ll be your wife,” she told him, lifting her head to meet his eyes. “And I’ll go anywhere with you. Or we can stay right here. Let people know you,” she asked, touching her palm to the chiseled angle of his cheek. “You’ve already given them a glimpse of who you are, and a lot of them like what they’ve seen. You already have Louie and Brenda on your side. And the deacon and the fishermen. And Dorothy and Gun,” she added, though she wasn’t sure he knew who they were. “Erica and Eden’s mom even—”

  “Okay,” Damon said, cutting her off with what threatened to be a smile. “I get the picture. It’s just hard getting used to the idea of having friends.” He turned her hand to his lips, placing a kiss in her palm. “How do you think Louie would feel about being my best man?”

  The thought of their irascible friend brought delight to her eyes. “I think he’d tell you he already is.”

  Damon pulled her closer, absorbing the smile moving into her eyes before he drew her into a kiss that would have rocked the heavens, had the heavens not been rocking already. He never would have believed anything would change in Pine Point. Or how much he could change, himself. But he had, because of the woman in his arms. And because of her, he was no longer alone. He’d stopped being alone the day he’d met her.

  ISBN : 978-1-4592-6686-5

  HANNAH AND THE HELLION

  Copyright © 1998 by Christine Flynn

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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