Untouchable: A Small Town Romance (Ravenswood Book 2)

by Talia Hibbert

  “You remember me.”

  “I never knew you. No-one knew you.”

  He leaned over her, his chest covering her back, his body caging hers as his length nudged at her opening. She felt his breath against her ear as he whispered, “You knew me. Of course you knew me. That’s why you wanted me so bad.”

  “Nate…” She closed her eyes, shuddered at the promise of satisfaction, at the kiss of his hard dick spreading her wider and threatening to fill her up. Fuck, that rough push and slick glide would be so good if he would just—

  “Look at me,” he said again.

  “No.”

  He sighed, pulling back. Away from her. What the fuck? This was her dream, for Christ’s sake!

  “Come back here,” she snapped.

  “You know what I want.”

  “What is this, a subconscious revolt?” she demanded. What the hell was going on? She had no idea—and she couldn’t ask her mother to interpret this particular dream, since it involved fucking a local hot dad on a floating bed. What was she supposed to do, Google it?

  “You know me, Hannah. You know me because we’re the same. Admit it.”

  “Oh, piss off. Jesus. I can’t even get a decent shag inside my own fucking head. Why haven’t I replaced the batteries in my vibrator yet?”

  “Because you don’t masturbate. You just have dreams like this and wake up wondering what happened. But you don’t remember, because you sleep too deeply.”

  “Great,” she said dryly. And then, a second later: “Wait, so I won’t remember this? That is pretty great.”

  “You want to forget me?” Nate asked, sounding a little offended.

  “Of course I do. This is atrocious. I don’t know what my subconscious was playing at, bringing you here. Frankly, I only allowed it because I like your tattoos.”

  “But you don’t like me.”

  “Not like that. I’m not fifteen anymore.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice unnervingly dark.

  “That I’m not fifteen?”

  “Hannah,” he growled.

  Oh, fine. She knew what he meant. “Yes! Okay? Yes, I’m sure. I’m very sure.” While sitting on a dreamy floating bed, butt-naked, with her own arousal sliding down her thighs and a desperate need for Nate’s phantom dick, she said firmly: “Nathaniel Davis, I am not into you.”

  “In that case,” he said, “you’d better wake up.”

  Nate’s house, Hannah discovered the next day, was east of the train tracks, close to the town centre, and on the smaller side. It was also painfully charming—or at least it looked that way from the pavement. Instead of brick, it was made of those old cobble stones, and the front garden was alive with… flowers. Yellow ones and purple ones. That was the best Hannah could do in terms of identifying plant life. The whole thing was adorable.

  She approached it with as much trepidation as she would Dracula’s mansion.

  “You’ve got this,” she murmured under her breath. “You are in control. Base emotions do not rule you. Attraction does not necessitate action.”

  The positive affirmations didn’t help.

  She didn’t know why, exactly, but Hannah had woken up that morning convinced that she was being haunted by the ghost of her old crush. Except it had turned poltergeist, and it would not give her a minute to breathe. This was all Nate’s fault, obviously, for running around looking like a modern-day Danny Zuco, but the consequences of that irresponsible sexiness would inevitably be heaped on Hannah’s shoulders.

  A crush, she knew, was a powerful thing. A dangerous thing. Her crush on Nate had been the first she’d ever had, and she’d hated every damned minute of it. The inappropriate thoughts, the inappropriate dreams (which were probably more puberty-related than Nate-related, but whatever), the sweaty palms and pounding heart…

  Good Lord, it had all been quite sickening. And the threat of sliding back into that messy existence was making Hannah teeter on the edge of hysteria. She was slightly concerned that, if he opened the door looking a little too handsome, she might do something disturbing. Like slap him. And slapping the poor man wouldn’t help her plot to secure employment, now, would it?

  Hannah cleared her throat, adjusted her braids, and smoothed down her floor-length skirt. Although she’d ironed it twice before leaving the house, she checked studiously for any embarrassing creases. Really, you could never be too careful. Once, she’d wandered about for hours in a skirt that had an odd V-shaped furrow right over her vagina. She’d gotten so many strange looks that day.

  Satisfied that all was in order, she stepped through the pretty little gate, strode up the pretty garden path, and rapped smartly on Nate’s pretty front door.

  Almost immediately, a shadow fell behind its frosted glass. A very large shadow. Hannah swallowed as she heard locks and latches clatter, and then the door swung slowly, ominously open… to reveal Zach’s smiling face.

  The anti-climax almost killed her.

  “Hey,” he grinned. “You’re here.”

  Hannah winced. “Am I early? Am I late?” She couldn’t be late, could she? She’d timed it so perfectly—

  “Stop that. You’re completely, precisely on time.” Zach grabbed her arm and dragged her into the house, as if he somehow knew she needed the extra push. “We’re in the garden.”

  “We being…”

  “Me and Nate and the kids. And Ma. Literally all of us. Surprise!”

  “Oh,” Hannah said faintly. “Great, that’s… that’s great…” She tapped her palms against her legs. Christ, it was hot. Why had she worn a skirt? Her thighs were chafing. Chafing was not conducive to social perfection. The skirt had definitely been a miscalculation, but—

  “Nervous?”

  She looked up to find Zach giving her the kind of cocky, arch look that had made him Ravenswood’s most successful man-slut. “No,” she said. It wasn’t a lie; it was positive self-talk. “Stop trying to psych me out.”

  “I’m not! I swear. I’ve just never seen you like this before. You’re always so cool. Which I like, by the way.” He flashed one of his trademark, lazy-sexy smiles.

  “Not now, Zachary.”

  “But later?”

  “Put your head in the freezer or something.” She ignored his answering burst of laughter, casting a sharp eye over the hall. There were boxes stacked precariously by the stairs, and the living room she could see through a nearby doorway looked… disorganised, to say the least.

  But her mind was distracted from its mental tidying when childish shouts danced on the air. The sound filled her chest with a familiar peace, a feeling she’d sorely missed over the years. All at once, her nerves faded—like the last bright sparks of a firework. She was cool and composed, a blank night sky again. There was no need to panic.

  Yes, she might be rusty after two years, and yes, Nate triggered some sort of minor nostalgic lust in her, but that didn’t matter. She was here to work, and work was one thing Hannah could do, no matter what. She had skills and experience and qualifications coming out of her ears, and most importantly…

  Kids loved her. Kids really, really loved her. They were the only people who did, and that was her superpower. So she’d re-meet Bethany and Joshua, and they’d have fun playing in the garden, and everything would be fine, and then—then—she’d actually, finally, be working in childcare again. For now.

  That was enough to make her heart sing.

  She took a deep breath and gave Zach her best smile. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Five

  “When you're fatter than complete strangers with boundary issues prefer, they will make sure to tell you so. In explicit detail. They do this because they hate happiness.”

  - Hannah Kabbah, The Kabbah Code.

  “Grandma, would you like an apple smoothie?”

  “Oh, yes, please!” Nate watched as his mother widened her eyes and licked her lips, holding out one eager hand for a cup of pond scum and mushed-up leaves.

  Beth pass
ed it over with a giggle, then turned to Josh and ordered, “Another one! For Uncle Zach!”

  Josh nodded so hard, Nate was surprised he didn’t fall over. Smoothie making in the garden was clearly a serious business.

  It was nice, having a garden. Very nice. He’d forgotten that part of living in Ravenswood; all the greenery. The kids were having the time of their lives. Maybe they’d forgive him for the move soon.

  He raised his camera and lined up a shot of Beth, mud smudged over her snub little nose, kneeling by their shallow pond. She looked up, caught him, and gave a glare more suited to a teenager than a seven-year-old.

  “Don’t take pictures of me, Daddy,” she commanded.

  He didn’t blame the poor kid. He’d been photographing her nonstop from the minute she was born. “Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m just looking at you.”

  She sniffed dubiously. Nate chuckled and turned the camera elsewhere, zooming in on Josh’s chubby fingers snatching at leaves on a rhododendron bush; then on Ma, who was lounging on the quilted garden swing, ‘apple smoothie’ in hand. She winked at him, lifting her plastic cup, and he snapped a picture.

  Finally, as if by instinct, he looked towards the patio doors, camera still raised to his face…

  And saw Hannah.

  He’d been expecting her. Of course he had. But the sight of her still felt like a surprise. Maybe it was because of her smile—the kind of breathtaking, sunshine-bright smile he could never have predicted from a woman so tightly contained. Of course, she was aiming that elusive smile at his little brother, since they were friends. And she was talking to him, too, without any of the self-consciousness she’d shown Nate.

  Because she had been self-conscious, during their odd little interview, despite how bold she seemed. He could sense it, somehow, every time she hesitated, every time she bit back words or swallowed feelings. It made him want to bring all the shadowy parts of her into the light. He’d had this odd certainty that she needed it, like she was a plant that could do with re-potting and a sprinkle of water. But it turned out that she didn’t need that at all, from him or anyone, because she had no trouble shining with Zach.

  Which would teach Nate to think about adults the way he thought about his kids.

  Nate lowered the camera and called, “Josh. Beth. Come over here, please.” For once, they did as he asked. Reluctantly, sure, but he’d take what he could get.

  When they drew closer, Nate crouched down in the grass and put a hand on both their shoulders. “Okay; you remember I said someone would start living with us soon, to watch you guys while I’m not here?”

  They stared like beady-eyed birds, which he decided to take as a yes.

  “Do you also remember the lady we bumped into in the meadow that one night? The one who gave you marshmallows?”

  “Yeeeees,” Beth sighed. “That was only the other day, Dad.”

  And Josh, taking his cue from his older sister, echoed, “Yeaaaah, Daddy.” He tried to roll his eyes, but it looked more like he was being momentarily possessed.

  Nate bit back a smile. He didn’t want to disrupt the gravity of their disdain. “Right. Well, she’s here, and her name is Hannah, and we’re gonna go and say hello to her. Very politely. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Beth huffed.

  Josh bit his lip.

  “She’s really nice,” Nate said. “I promise. Look, she’s just over there. She’s your Uncle Zach’s friend.”

  Both kids turned to stare at Hannah, who was currently saying hi to Shirley. Hopefully the fact that she was standing by their idol and hero, Cool Uncle Zach, giver of sweets and toys, would get Hannah points.

  Nate straightened and led his kids over the grass. His heart swelled when he felt first Josh, and then Beth, take his hand, their palms soft and plump and sweaty. Never got old.

  Hannah smiled as they approached, all soft and closed-lipped and oddly… sweet. Her lipstick was kind of red today, kind of orange. Like she’d painted her mouth with pure heat. “Hello,” she said, all her focus on the kids.

  “Hannah,” he said, “this is Beth and Josh. Kids, this is Hannah. Say hello.”

  Beth did a little wiggle on the spot, which meant she was nervous. But she still lifted her chin and said, “Hello Hannah.” He squeezed her little hand and smiled down at her—and, miracle of miracles, she actually smiled back, sticking her tongue through the hole left by her missing front tooth.

  Then he heard Josh say hello too, just like his sister. Always, just like his sister.

  And then Hannah shocked Nate completely by kneeling down on the grass in her pristine white skirt. She folded her hands on her lap, posture perfect as always, and said, “Your grandmother tells me that the two of you have a very important secret.” Her voice dropped to a whisper on secret in a way that somehow seemed perfectly natural and genuine. Her expression was grave, lips pursed, brows slightly raised.

  Both kids leaned towards her. “Secret?” Beth echoed.

  Hannah nodded, looking at one child, then the other, very slowly. Somehow, the same earthy gaze that tore people down so effortlessly became a spotlight, a round of applause, and a gold star all at once. She looked so thoroughly interested in the kids, he could see them blooming before her like flowers before the sun.

  “She says,” Hannah murmured, “that you have a top-secret recipe for the best apple smoothies in the world. Is that true? Or is she mistaken?”

  “It’s true!” Josh whispered back.

  Beth glared at him. “Shh!” Then, looking at Hannah, she muttered. “It’s not a secret. It’s just leaves.”

  Hannah cocked her head to the side. Just like she used to, in class, when she was listening. She nodded towards the swing, where his mum was watching them all with a smile on her face. “If it’s not a secret, will you show me how you did it? You see, I would like to make someone as happy as you made your grandmother.”

  Beth blinked. She puffed up her cheeks. Then she shrugged and said, “If you reeeally want…”

  That space was supposed to be filled by more eager requests, but Hannah simply sat back and watched, pure interest all over her face.

  And finally, Beth said, “Okay. Okay. You can come and look.”

  Hannah smiled. “Wonderful.” Then she stood, far too gracefully in his opinion, and held out both her hands.

  To Nate’s utter astonishment, his children released him without hesitation and took hold of Hannah like a pair of limpets. They skirted around him as if he were a particularly inconvenient garden gnome, heading for the pond and chattering over each other. He stood alone and slightly alarmed, blinking rapidly.

  Zach came over to him with a grin. “See? She’s great. She’s like magic. You just… accidentally love her.”

  Nate decided not to answer that. He turned away from his brother just in time to watch his son spill a cup of algae all over Hannah’s skirt. Oh, shit. Josh and Beth both had their little hands over their mouths in the universal child expression for Oops.

  “Sorry!” Josh squeaked.

  Nate wasn’t surprised when Hannah said, “It’s okay, Josh. Accidents happen.” He’d expected that, actually. Despite her pristine exterior, she had years of experience working with kids. She wouldn’t have gotten far if she got upset over dirty clothes.

  But he was surprised by the look on her face. By the expression that crept over her features after Josh had calmed, after the kids had turned back to the pond and started chatting away, after the other adults in the garden stopped paying attention.

  She stared down at the sodden, green-tinged fabric, running her hand over the stain. And she looked…

  She looked fucking delighted.

  “Caitlin from my class said that nowhere is as good as London because London is where the queen is, but Daddy says the queen is not important anyway so I should like it here. But I don’t like it here.” Bethany Davis had been giving Hannah a calm and detailed monologue on the benefits of London versus Nottingham for at least ten minutes, and she didn�
�t seem to be running out of steam. Hannah almost regretted asking.

  Except not really, because she loved hearing kids talk.

  “I don’t like Caitlin that much anyway—Caitlin W., I mean. I like Caitlin G., even though she’s not in my class.” Bethany—Beth—hesitated. Her little bottom lip pushed out a bit as she frowned. “Oh. I am not in my class either.”

  Beside her, the mostly-silent Josh shredded leaves diligently.

  “That’s okay,” Hannah said. “I think you’ll enjoy your new school, once you get settled in.”

  Beth scowled. “Why? I don’t like it now.”

  “That’s because you’re new. When you’re new, everything stands out too much, and it makes you feel strange. But once you get used to things, you won’t feel strange anymore.”

  Wide, blue eyes blinked slowly. Beth appeared to be considering those words. She looked slightly mollified, to Hannah. But she still asked, suspicion in her voice, “How do you know?”

  Nate’s sudden arrival saved Hannah from replying. He’d hung back for a while now, letting her play with the kids—who, it turned out, she adored. Zach had called them demons, but he clearly didn’t have much experience with children. Beth and Josh were smart, funny, creative, and headstrong. As far as Hannah was concerned, those were all excellent qualities in a child—even if they did demand a little extra effort from the adults around said children.

  But even as she’d been drawing that conclusion, she’d been conscious of Nate’s presence in the garden. She felt him like the ocean felt the moon, she supposed. Those pale, piercing eyes tracked her every move. It was sweet how protective he was over his kids. When he finally approached them, it was with an apologetic smile that brought out that damned dimple and made her heart lurch awfully. Ugh. Feelings were so very excessive, and uncomfortable, too. In fact, emotions were the psychological equivalent of walking on a blister.

  “Hannah,” Nate said in that smoke-and-gravel voice. He hadn’t sounded like that all those years ago. “Can I drag you away for a second?”