If she was honest, there’d always been something about him.
He stood abruptly. “I should get back to the farm.”
“Right.” She moved to let him out the front door, not entirely sure how she’d deal with this whole encounter.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his body, giving her a higher thrill than Christmas morning. “Maybe you’d like to come out to the farm Friday night for dinner.”
She exhaled an unsteady stream. “I’d like that.”
“How about seven?”
“Sounds great.”
His grip loosened, although his body stayed tense. He bent down and brushed her lips with his, a warm, deep caress. Then he was gone. She stood unmoving, not sure how to process her sizzling nerves.
She entered the living room again only to find her two sisters with shit-eating grins on their faces.
Janey turned around and pretended to make out with herself. “I love him so much.”
Cate made kissing noises.
Hannah threw a pillow at each of them. “It’s not a big deal. The kiss just happened.”
“Uh, huh. Because when a guy makes up an excuse to visit you, his intentions are innocent.”
Hannah frowned. “He said Steve was sick.”
Janey’s brows furrowed. “There’s only one problem with his story.”
Dread curled inside Hannah. He was too good to be real. “What?”
“I talked to Steve five minutes ago, and he’s completely fine. He’s been editing all day, and he begged me to bring him dinner. He’s totally taking advantage of our friendship. A double cheeseburger, fries AND a milkshake.”
She halted. “Does that mean?”
Cate slapped her on the back. “Tree guy wanted to deliver the goods himself. Also, he’s a coward for not telling you the truth himself.”
Hannah did a body flail, otherwise known as a cheerleading jump.
Her sisters gawked at her.
“What?”
“You SQUEALED,” Cate accused.
“Yeah, I thought you were over that horrible cheerleader phase.” Janey shuddered.
Her inner schoolgirl emerged when excitement got the best of her, despite her strict no cheerleader moves mantra. “He came to see me on purpose.”
“He also lied,” Janey shot back.
“You don’t think I can put a man who lies to me back in his place?” She assumed her schoolteacher glare.
Both her sisters began to back out of the room.
“You set him straight, honey.” Janey held up both her hands in surrender.
“Don’t point your yardstick at us,” Cate added.
“That’s what she said.” Janey snickered.
Hannah’s lips twitched, but she promised herself she wouldn’t laugh. She stood back and observed her brand new tree. Everything was perfect. Almost. She just had a certain man who needed a little more holiday spirit. She was the perfect remedy, as long as she reined in Haughty Hannah.
* * *
The clock ticked dangerously close to the time when Hannah was supposed to show up at Griff’s farm. Despite telling himself a hundred times not to ask the woman out because he’d yet attempted commitment that didn’t end in disaster, he wasn’t entirely surprised it’d happened.
Either way, he blamed the damn sprinkles. Who put sprinkles on their hot chocolate? And who the hell made their own whipped cream from scratch? He’d recognized the handcrafted texture. His favorite nanny had made it for him when he was a kid. Although Hannah’s had been better. Honestly the best.
Which was why it wasn’t surprising he’d fallen into complacency with her. Hot chocolate was his weak spot, something he associated with comfort. His more pessimistic side wanted to know how she’d found out. His reasonable side argued there was no way she could have known.
Hot chocolate obviously held a special place in her heart too, which connected them, and made him feel ridiculous. When she’d touched him, he hadn’t been able to stop himself. A man heard about women seducing men through sexy lingerie, but was he the only male in existence who’d kissed a woman because of hot chocolate? Probably. He would have tried a lot more if he hadn’t been well aware her sisters had been around and undoubtedly listening.
They terrified him, and they had eavesdropper written all over their identical faces. Something about Hannah separated her from them. She was sweeter, less aggressive, but surprisingly sensual in his arms. Her bottled sexuality tempted him to uncork her.
Inviting her over to his farm had been a bad idea. How was he going to keep his paws to himself? She wasn’t a woman a man pawed at on the first date. He should have taken her out. She probably had rigid moral values to accompany her schoolteacher voice and proper public persona.
Why that worked for him, he had no idea. He’d never had a thing for teachers or a thing for prim. Little Miss Holidays was making him crave sex like he hadn’t in a long time.
Too long. He’d given it up after Meredith tried to pass her baby off as his. The woman he’d known most of his life had wanted to trap him into marriage. A nice attempt, but complicated considering they’d never been intimate. Her that one night we got drunk didn’t work, considering he’d never been drunk. Only she had.
Sure, it made him cynical. Adding his negative experiences to the fact his mother married his father solely for his money, Griff wasn’t one to trust anyone. Watching his father crumble under his mother’s vindictive abuse still festered. Griff taking a chance on a relationship had always been impossible. Until Hannah. Something about her dared him to take a chance. He’d no doubt end up regretting it.
The doorbell rang. Anticipation raced through him about the time he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. He wasn’t counting on this going smoothly. He’d pretty much set up a recipe for disaster. All he had to eat was a frozen pizza in the freezer, and he could only imagine how well that would go over with Miss Homemade Hot Cocoa.
All his cynicism dried up when he opened the door. Hannah’s cheeks flushed red, contrasting starkly against the snow. She smiled and held out a picnic basket toward him. “I brought food.”
He had no response. Was he supposed to be offended? He was pretty sure this was some type of jab at him. He’d meant to be prepared, but his business had been crazy the past week. He scrutinized her before moving out of her way and allowing her in.
Her happiness faltered, and an uncertain expression took its place. “It’s simple. Just meat, cheese and wine. A kind of farm-warming gift.”
“Is it for dinner?”
She exhaled in a harsh puff, probably reacting to his tone. “Not necessarily. I figured I could bring this in case you didn’t pick anything up.” She bit her bottom lip.
It was pretty damn cute. “You don’t think I had dinner ready? You think I’d ask you here without being prepared?” He kept his questions neutral, wondering how she’d handle his grumpy side, not that she hadn’t witnessed it already. Sometimes he couldn’t play nice, and if she couldn’t deal with it, they needed to figure that out now.
“Um, I wouldn’t say I thought you wouldn’t be ready. But just in case...” She couldn’t seem to find a nice way to phrase it.
Guilt hit him for putting her to the test. He didn’t want to be an ass, but life had made him skeptical. “You’re right. All I have is frozen pizza. We’ll eat the meat and cheese.”
Hannah pushed by him, grinning broadly. “I knew it. I also brought a knife, plates, cups and a corkscrew. You don’t seem like the kind of guy who owns a corkscrew.”
She was right. How the hell did she know so much about him? He followed her into the kitchen, which she seemed to zero in on without a tour.
“Make yourself at home.” His voice roughened, but he didn’t mind her presence in his space. He really should mind.
A wry expression dawned as she took out the meat, cheese and holy hell, her own cutting board. “I can’t help it. I always come prepared. It’s a compulsion.”
Or an affliction, but he wisel
y kept that to himself. They were so different. Why had he ever thought this was a smart idea?
“I’m trying to work on self-improvement.”
She was from another planet. “You don’t need to do that.” Although part of him wasn’t sure he spoke the truth.
“That’s nice to say. But I’ll wait until you know me better to really see. Go ahead and open the wine.” She gestured toward the basket. “Maybe it will reduce your frown some. You look like you can’t decide if you want to kiss me or throw me out.”
Well, damn. Pretty much summed it up. “You’re something, you know that?”
Color spread up to her forehead. Her darker complexion definitely didn’t hide her blush, and he liked it.
She cleared her throat and took a seat at his simple table. “I’ve seen you around. It’s not a surprise I know a little about what to expect.”
His interest perked. “What have you gathered about me?”
She used a knife to cut the plastic covering the food, then used a different, sharper knife to begin slicing the meat on the cutting board. “You only buy frozen food at the grocery store. And beer.” She frowned at her basket. “I thought about bringing you some, but then I figured if you wanted some, you’d have some. I’m not a fan of beer.” She said it as if beer was a pair of dirty gym socks.
It shouldn’t amuse him. A woman who insulted beer was all wrong for him. Hell, her primness was something else, even when she tried to rein it in, which frankly wasn’t fooling anybody.
“You never buy flowers. Your clothes are all similar tones, which makes easy washing. You’ve never gone to the liquor store, and you only get your mail at the post office on Tuesdays. You hit up the library often, and walk by the school every Wednesday.”
All at once, she fell silent. She attacked the salami with more force than necessary, no longer focusing on him.
“You watch me, do you?” He forced a bland tone.
Man, she surprised the hell out of him.
“I am not a stalker.” She tilted her chin up and used her teacher tone. She might as well have slapped a ruler against the table. He wouldn’t have minded.
“I didn’t call you one.” It was a small enough town.
“I’m just observant.”
“Uh huh.” He couldn’t help goading her.
When she refused to speak and blistering color mounted her face, he gave in. He couldn’t leave her floundering. Much.
Uncorking the wine, he smelled the top. Yeah, not his thing. But he’d drink it, for her. After splashing some in a couple of her plastic cups, which were ironically the shape of real wine glasses, he crowded in close and set one down by her.
The knife she held froze, hovering over the food.
“On Mondays, you like to help people. It’s almost like you go out of your way to hang around the square and wait to open doors or help elderly ladies with their groceries.”
Her breath caught, but he continued on. The gig of his obsession was already up and out.
“On Tuesdays and Thursdays you help with the pageant, but the last few weeks you’ve been prancing around in a ridiculous elf costume.”
Her back pressed against his front as her posture straightened. “I certainly don’t prance.”
He ignored her. “The damn costume shouldn’t be attractive. I’ve damn well never fantasized about an elf, but God help me, I can’t stay away to avoid the show.”
“Which is why you were there to help me with the Santa fiasco.”
He let her answer her own question. “On Fridays, you haunt the library and always end up with two stacks of books. One for yourself and one for your students. On Wednesdays, you teach a late afterschool program, still going on despite winter break, so I can never find you around town. So yes, I might wander by, but in my defense it’s on the way to where I park my truck. And those tight, knee-length skirts you wear should be a sin.”
She’d relaxed against him, but they still touched. The knife was now down on the table.
He moved her hair away from one side of her neck. His lips hovered above her soft and enticing skin. “For the record, I’m not a stalker either.”
“I didn’t say you were.” Her words escaped in a husky plea he couldn’t ignore.
He trailed near her ear. “If you asked me where the hell anyone else in this town spends their time, I couldn’t tell you. For some reason, you have a way of drawing my eye.”
“My sisters look identical.”
“Anyone who says that isn’t looking close enough.”
She turned toward him, her front brushing against his. “You never asked me out.”
“Because you and me are a horrible idea.”
Her expression narrowed.
He kissed her, shifting them away from the table. He pushed her back up against the counter. If he didn’t draw back right now, they’d never make it to dinner.
After a long stretch of indulgence, he harnessed his baser urges.
She sighed, he liked to think dreamily. “Yet I’m here at your house.”
“I couldn’t seem to stay away.”
“It was the elf costume.”
He laughed. Most people couldn’t make him laugh. “I’ll never admit that. But before then, I had no idea what you were hiding under those sweaters. It only makes me like the sweaters more.” His hand snaked up her shirt, touching hot skin.
She gasped, probably because his fingers were freezing.
He told himself to behave and stepped back from her, instantly regretting his retreat.
“Why are we such a horrible match?”
He forced himself to go back to the table and take a seat on the other side. She moved and started slicing again. He brought the plastic wine cup to his lips and sipped. Okay, so it wasn’t terrible. “You’re the kind of girl that brings dinner when a man asks her over. I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t plan ahead even when he did the asking.”
The knife thumped down. “Seems like a pretty equal match to me.”
“Maybe.” He studied the way she attacked the food, her agitated movements increasing.
He’d never known he could get to her. He kind of liked it. “You’re the kind of woman who volunteers and runs holiday pageants. The kind who makes sure all of the season’s holidays are represented.”
“It’s not wrong to make sure everyone feels included.” Her prim tone rose.
Ah, it killed him when she did that. “No.” This was the way she was built. No guise or mask. He was starting to get it. “But I never would have thought of that.”
She unwrapped the cheese and attacked it too. “Then I’ll open up your worldview.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. The small-town schoolteacher was going to teach him a thing or two? He doubted it.
Her cutting hand froze. “Is there something funny about that?”
He shouldn’t be goading her when she had a knife. He figured there was a ninety percent chance she wouldn’t throw it.
“You’re the kind of woman who waits ten dates to sleep with a man, and brings her boyfriend home to her mother before she decides to go all the way.”
The knife slammed down into the cutting board. He lowered the percentage of her not throwing it at him to seventy-five.
“You’re an ass.”
He hadn’t expected her to swear. “Yeah.”
She reminded him of a teapot. Prim and proper and ready to blow.
“You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know how many dates I wait, or if I even choose to wait at all. You don’t know if I’m a prude in the bedroom or a goddamn wet dream who likes to dress up like a stripper.”
He swallowed at the visual. She’d surprised him.
“And...” She took a deep breath, apparently trying to compose herself. “My mother is dead.” She turned on her heel and exited the room.
His stomach lurched at her pained confession. Well, shit. He’d just won the biggest ass on the planet award. He’d gone over the line, probably t
o test how far he could push her. He’d had no right. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. See? He’d known this was a terrible idea. He was a jerk, and she deserved much better.
He headed for the living room. Empty. A distant door slammed. Increasing his speed, he found his way to the front entrance, worried for the first time. He banged out onto the porch.
Hannah wrestled with her car handle.
“Now wait a minute.” He bolted after her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
She raised herself up and sniffled, which made his gut tighten. He hadn’t wanted to make her cry.
“If you want to be a jerk, that’s fine. I’m not going to sit around and tolerate it.” Her teacher voice should make him want to shuffle his feet, but it had a very different effect. What was it about Hannah?
“That was uncalled for. I pushed you, and I shouldn’t have. Let’s go back inside and try again.”
She glared at him. “You already blew it. I also know Steve wasn’t sick, so that makes you a liar.” She swung her car door open. “And a coward.”
“Now wait a damn minute.”
She slammed the door shut, and fumbled with her keys.
He pressed his hands against the chilled window. “Hannah, let me explain.”
She shot one more withering stare at him and turned on her car. It rumbled to life, and he stepped back in pure self-preservation. God, she was fierce. He hadn’t been sure if she had it in her. Now that he did know, it was way too late to make up for being such a dick.
Her car screeched out of the driveway. He winced, wondering how pissed she’d be if he called to make sure she got home safe. Luckily it was a small town. If something happened, Steve would let him know. He always asked for Griff’s help when there were rare emergencies. Steve was some type of writer or editor, but he was central to the town, always lending a hand. It was weird.
Griff stared at the empty driveway. So that had gone well. What had he expected? He’d known for months this thing between them wouldn’t work. The nice pro about being a cynic was he’d been completely prepared for this outcome. A woman like Hannah didn’t stay with an ass, even if he wasn’t quite as bad as he acted. He was still too damn close.
For My Own: A Contemporary Christmas Anthology Page 27