I parked in my usual spot, taking a moment to come to terms with the realization that I even had a usual spot. Could I say that about any of the other women I’d been with? No, definitely not. I’d never stuck around long enough to have a usual anything with them. Probably the most lasting, long-term relationship I’d had with a woman was with the barista who knew my order by heart at our local Starbucks.
And I hadn’t slept with her.
So, how did I feel about having a usual parking spot at Hannah’s? Strangely… it felt kind of okay. There was something about it that made me feel a little secure, a little relieved, like at least one thing in my life wasn’t a fluctuating variable. This parking spot was a fixed point, something I could always come back to—provided there wasn’t another car in it.
The more I thought about it, though, I realized it wasn’t really the parking spot that felt like a usual haunt to me. Rather, it was Hannah’s home. In the past few days, I’d spent a hell of a lot of time there. And all of it, every last second, had been good.
What other place held such consistently warm memories for me? It damn sure wasn’t the house I grew up in, or even the apartment I lived in now. It wasn’t any of the ever-changing venues I worked. It wasn’t any of the bedrooms I’d visited over the years, either.
No; only Hannah’s apartment felt that way to me. Only her bedroom held the honor of being a place I wanted to visit again and again. Shit, I’d spent the night, hadn’t I? Fallen asleep in her damn arms. To a lot of guys that was probably mundane behavior, but to me… it meant something.
She meant something. Whether I liked it or not, Hannah Miller was in my heart. I just wasn’t sure to what extent yet. I cared about her… but was it possible I was falling in love with her?
Those were big questions. And I was sure they had big answers. But they weren’t the reason I was here tonight. Tonight, I needed a different kind of resolution.
I needed to know what happened to Hannah. I needed to know what she was keeping from me regarding her sisters and her background. Why had she left the Amish community? It clearly wasn’t just ‘cause she’d decided on a change of scenery. The way she talked about the village was so dark, so bitter. Whenever she mentioned it, she nearly spat the words like she was talking about some heretofore undiscovered circle of hell. There was a distance in her eyes, a thousand-yard stare that made me think of some of the vets I’d seen working bouncing and security gigs. They’d seen some shit, and they carried it on their backs where it wore them out and weighed them down. Obviously, Hannah had seen some shit too. And I wanted to help her.
But to do that, I had to know what it was.
I untied the bags from my bike and headed to her door, steeling myself for what very well might be an uncomfortable conversation. Having fought my own personal demons—and some of them, I was still waging war on—I knew from experience that someone getting in your face about them wasn’t always welcome. But we were kind of on a time limit here, and I couldn’t wait for weeks or months to ease Hannah into the idea of opening up that part of herself. It needed to be now. Tonight. Else our siblings might end up dealing with the same shit I just had, or maybe even something worse than a trashed apartment.
That was another reason I was glad to be with Hannah tonight. My place no longer felt like a safe haven. Every moment I’d spent in it today, I’d been downright paranoid, just waiting for someone to burst out of a closet and try to shank me. I had no idea what the motivation was, except that I was pretty sure it had something to do with the girls. The timing on it seemed to coincidental not to be related. So it seemed there was no better place for me tonight than in Hannah’s company, whether it ended in flames or not.
I knocked on the door, raking my fingers through my hair with one hand and dangling the bags from the other. Ever since the cowlick incident, I was even more obsessive about ensuring I looked all right after putting a helmet on. Fuckin’ Reid. I’d pay that little shit back for that, some way, somehow.
Then I heard Hannah turning the locks and I straightened, adopting a roguish smirk as she swung open the door. A smirk that quickly faltered into a look of shock as I laid eyes on the woman standing before me.
Holy. Fuck.
It was Hannah, all right, but she looked way different than I’d ever seen her. She was wearing a short, sexy Bodycon dress in a shade that straddled the fence between burgundy and plum, making her green eyes stand out all the more in her pretty face. It hugged every inch of her body, every plane and curve, and sported a plunging neckline that made the most of her perfect cleavage. I could see her pulse fluttering in the hollow between her collarbones, watched it quicken as she saw me, and then lowered my gaze down to her waist, her round hips, and finally to her succulent thighs. Legs for goddamn days, this one, and the strappy heels just made them look longer.
It took all the will I had in my body to meet her eyes again. “Wow,” I breathed. Not my best line. Quickly, I tried to recover. “You look… stunning, Hannah.”
She grinned, and that made her even more beautiful. I loved the way her nose went up a little whenever she smiled big like that. “Thanks,” she said. “I had some time to kill, so I figured I’d put in some effort.” Her gaze fell to the bags. “Italian?”
I could still barely form words in her presence. “Mm hmm.”
She looked at me again. Her grin morphed into a little smirk. “You forgot the wine.”
I opened my mouth to correct her, but then frowned as I realized I had. Damn. I’d been so excited to see her and so wrapped up in what had happened to me earlier today that it had completely slipped my mind. I was about to apologize when she laughed and shook her head.
“It’s cool. I have some.” Then she opened the door wider, turned from me, and walked further into the apartment toward the kitchen. “Come on in. We’ll eat dinner at the table tonight like human beings.”
I stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind me, my eyes glued to the metronomic sway of her ass in that dress. It seemed like her short hemline crept up just a little each time she moved, and I found myself desperately searching for reasons to keep her moving all throughout the evening until I knew what color panties she was wearing.
No, I chided myself, that’s not what you’re here for. Come on, man, make an effort! Grimacing, I adjusted my half-hard cock while Hannah was turned away from me and took a deep breath, trying to clear my head of any impure thoughts as I followed her to the kitchen.
“What’re we having?” she asked me, opening a cupboard.
I smiled as I pulled the Styrofoam boxes out. “Not telling. It’s a surprise.”
Hannah raised her brow at me over her shoulder. Then she pulled out two bottles of wine. “Well, at least tell me if I should uncork a white or a red?”
“Red,” I told her, leaving the boxes closed for now. “Where are your plates again?”
“Up there,” she said with a gesture. Then she pulled a corkscrew out of a drawer and went to work on the bottle.
I pulled out two plates and brought them to the counter so I could transfer our food. I liked this, too—this familiarity and routine. The way we worked in tandem, perfectly synchronous. It made my heart beat just a little faster and filled me with a warmth that stretched all the way to my fingers and toes. It was like the afterglow of an orgasm, without the sex. Well, so far, anyway.
As I plated, I snuck another glance at Hannah in that tight number she had on. Now that I got a better look at it, I could see the dress was textured. It made me want to run my hands over it all the more, to feel the fabric between my fingers, to know exactly how soft, how thick, how strong it was. I wondered, briefly, if I could rip it off her body, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate that. There was a zipper straight down the back, anyway, and now I was imagining pulling it down with my teeth…
Fuck’s sakes, Ash, I growled internally as my cock rose again. Get a hold of yourself!
“Smells good, whatever it is,” Hannah said, retrieving
a couple of glasses. “You remember where the silverware is?”
Thus far, I’d been using the plastic cutlery provided in the bag. I looked up from my handiwork. “Uh… that drawer?” I jutted my chin in the direction I meant.
Hannah smiled at me and her eyes sparkled. “Good call.” There was a soft note to her voice when she said it, something like stifled excitement. It made me wonder if she was having the same thoughts I was. If she was imagining a time where I’d come over and I’d know exactly where all the plates and silverware and glasses were. A time when this was part of a greater routine. Nothing forced. No manufactured reasons for seeing one another. Just a natural evolution of what we already shared.
No, I told myself, she’s not. You’re here for her protection, just like Reid and Wyatt are with Sarah and Beth for theirs. You blew your chances with her on day fucking one, champ. She said it herself—to her, you’re just a player. In her eyes, you’ll never be anything else.
The wind left my sails real quick at that. The voice inside my head was probably right. I’d fucked up with Hannah, right from the start. No way she’d ever trust me again after what happened with Tanya. Shit… right as I was about to try to convince Hannah there was more to me than met the eye, Tanya just had to show up. But then, that was my fault. I was the one who’d forgotten about her. I was the one who’d never even thought to text her to cancel that goddamn booty call.
I couldn’t blame Tanya. And I couldn’t blame Hannah, either. Maybe I couldn’t change the past, but I could at least own up to my mistakes. It was certainly more than my old man ever did, that’s for sure.
I set the table just as Hannah came over with the bottle of wine and our filled glasses. It was a simple affair, but it looked damn nice—much nicer than anything I ever did for myself. I tried to make it just a little more special by pulling out Hannah’s chair when she went to sit down, and I saw her cheeks flare as I scooted her forward to put her at a comfortable distance from the table. I smiled at that. At least I’d done something to impress her.
“How was your day?” she asked when I sat down, and part of my heart broke at the question. Fuck, it really was like we were an old married couple. I hated it almost as much as I loved it. And I loved it a whole damn lot.
“Kinda rough,” I admitted, cutting up my chicken Parmesan into smaller pieces. Hannah had already started in on her wine and I nodded to her plate. “Thought you liked veal?”
“I do,” she said, flashing me a reassuring smile. “I just…” She laughed. “I just wanted to make it easier to talk. Y’know, with the wine.” She lifted her glass. “Always works with patrons at the bar, right? They get a few drinks in them and the conversation just… flows. I didn’t…” She blushed again. “I didn’t want it to be awkward.”
I raised a brow. “Why would it be awkward?”
Hannah didn’t answer me. She just shook her head. “You did good on the veal,” she said.
Well, at least there was that.
Hannah turned out to be right, though. On her second glass of wine, talking seemed to go a little smoother. She was more animated, more outgoing, more… herself than she’d seemed at first. As much as I loved what that dress and those heels did for her body, it seemed like something of a performance. The Hannah I knew was messy, laughed a little too long and too loud, and wore what was comfortable rather than what was sexy. And she looked way sexier doing that than any woman I knew who operated the opposite way. There was something natural about her, something effortless, that made her seem approachable and intimidating all at the same time. I much preferred that Hannah, even if her neckline made it so that when she laughed, her beautiful breasts bounced just a little in plain sight.
It took me a while to get the courage to start bringing up subjects she may not like. By the time I got there, she was getting up to get another bottle. I checked my phone real fast while she was gone—no texts from Wyatt or Reid, so I assumed everything was fine there. That was a relief. One less thing to worry about, at least.
I set the phone on the table when she came back. “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I began, careful to keep my tone light and casual, “what was the village like? Back when you lived there, I mean.”
Hannah frowned. She poured herself another glass, but she seemed stiffer. “Dull, if I had to pick an adjective,” she muttered.
“Well, you spent most of your life there. I just thought… you know… maybe some things were better than others.”
Hannah sat down, shrugging a single shoulder as she sipped. “Like what?”
I stared at her. “Uh, I was hoping you could tell me. I wasn’t there.”
Her eyes flicked to mine over the rim of her glass. Okay, so maybe that was a little snappy of me, but she was being purposefully evasive and I didn’t like it. Playing mind games with Hannah was the last thing I was interested in.
Slowly, she set her glass down. “We did a lot of chores. Sometimes we tended to the animals. We had a couple horses, for the buggy and for the plough. We went to church a lot. Learned to cook early on so that we could…” Here she paused, her expression tightening. “…please our father and our future husbands.” Then the glass was back in her hand suddenly, and she was sipping from it again. Her gaze wrested away from mine to focus on a nearby wall. “They don’t call it the simple life for nothin’.”
“You never… I dunno, played games or anything? As a kid?” I thought maybe focusing on the happy stuff first would make it easier.
She tipped her head just a little. “Missed out on the advent of the Super Nintendo, I’m afraid.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, but she still refused to look at me. “That’s not what I meant.” But the steeliness in my tone must have caught her ear, because with a shift and a sigh, she deigned to answer.
“Yeah. We played games. Sure. Caught lightning bugs sometimes. Beth always cried until we let them go. Sarah used to climb trees, though once she got up there, she could never get back down. And occasionally I’d make them things, like clothes for their straw dolls.”
I blinked at her. “You didn’t play?”
Hannah sipped again, this time for longer. “I was busy.”
“With what?” I asked.
I could see her grip on the glass stem hardening. “I was the eldest. I had responsibilities.”
Goddammit, Hannah. I knew there was more to it than that. I set my fork down and leaned my chin on my hand, staring at her hard, waiting for her to elaborate, but she never did. Not until I asked her, “Is that why you left? You were tired of being ignored and put last?”
She snorted derisively. “Oh, trust me,” she muttered, “I was never ignored.” And then she drained the last of her glass and began pouring herself another.
I reached out and touched her hand. “Don’t do that. Come on. I want to talk.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, sharp and fast. “So now you think you can tell me how much wine I can have?” She set the bottle down hard. “Maybe you want to count the calories I’ve had for the day too? Or maybe you’d like to go check out my room to make sure I made the bed right?” She curled a lip in a snarl. “All my chores are done for the day, Dad. Pretty sure I can drink however much I fucking want.”
I sat back in my chair, putting some distance between us. The air around her was charged, like I was watching a livewire dance in midair, showering sparks and the vague scent of ozone. The temperature in the room seemed to drop by a few degrees, too, more so the longer she stared at me. Electricity and a cold wind—always a paradox, Hannah.
“That isn’t what I meant,” I began. “I just want you to talk to me. I don’t care how much you drink. Get smashed, for all I care. Drink until you can’t walk or stand. That doesn’t bother me. I’ll be here to pick you up and tuck you into bed—”
“Do not!” Hannah growled, standing up so fast she knocked her chair over. “Don’t… don’t you ever!” She was panting, her face pale, her eyes wild. I rose too, slowly, my blood quickening in
my veins. What was going on here? What the hell had I said?
“I don’t understand,” I whispered, leaving my hands on the table so she could see where they were at all times. I knew it made people feel safer, more secure, and something told me that was exactly what Hannah needed to feel right now. “C’mon, love. It’s me you’re talking to…”
Her face twisted in such disgust that she might as well have slapped my cheek. “Oh, who, Ash Brody? You’re who I’m supposed to talk to and… what, trust? Ash, the player? Ash, the fucking heartbreaker?”
“How about Ash, the guy who got his apartment broken into ‘cause of whatever you’re dealing with?” I asked her, narrowing my eyes. “Ash, the guy who had his personal belongings violated ‘cause someone has it out for you?”
Hannah stopped talking for a moment. Some of the wind seemed to leave her sails. “…what?”
“Yeah,” I said, “you heard me. Someone broke into my apartment, Hannah. You said you needed me to protect you, and I have been—without question. But now you owe me an explanation. What the hell are you running from?”
“I owe you?” she said, her brows steadily furrowing again. Any trace of sympathy she might have felt for me and my situation slowly dissolved. “I gave you your payment, Ash. In that bathroom stall. Or don’t you remember? Maybe you’ve got other things—other women—on your mind.”
She snatched my phone off the table before I could stop her. “What kind of texts am I gonna see if I open up your inbox, Ash? What kind of apology did you send to Tanya? Was it the same hard and throbbing one you sent to me?”
“Jesus, no!” I said, but it didn’t matter. Hannah wasn’t having it. Any of it. I flinched to the side when she threw my phone at me, allowing it to hit the wall just behind my head. It clattered to the floor in what I was certain was more than just one piece.
LUST: A Bad Boy and Amish Girl Romance (The Brody Bunch Book 2) Page 13