by Joya Ryan
Hannah frowned at the glass as she picked it up. She took a seat on the bar stool. That’s when she noticed Laura looking over her shoulder, giving a little wave, and blowing a kiss. Ah, she must see Jake. They were probably playing one of their little “pretend to be strangers” games.
Hannah rolled her eyes and glanced over and saw—
“Fuck me,” Hannah breathed.
It was Grant. Standing right behind her.
“Maybe later,” he said and winked. “But first I was hoping to buy you a drink and get to know you. Hi, my name is Grant Laythem.”
Hannah looked at him like he’d lost his mind. But then she saw Jake walk up next to him and say something like an introduction to Laura.
Ah, crap. Not only were they playing a game, somehow Hannah had gotten roped into it.
“So, what, you’re best friends with Jake now?”
Grant frowned at her. “Oh, you know my friend Jake? I had no idea,” he said, clearly sarcastic. Judging by how chummy the two men were, she could now guess where Grant had spent his day—at the home goods store.
“Are you seriously trying to be best friends with my best friend’s husband?” she asked in disbelief.
“I’m doing no such thing,” Grant said in a sweet, defensive tone. Great, now he was mocking her. “Turns out, I’m approachable.”
Before Hannah could roll her eyes again, Jake slung an arm around Grant’s broad shoulders. “This guy here is my brother from another mother,” he said. Laura giggled; Hannah gagged. This game was already going too far. But it looked like Jake was serious. Grant and he had really become friends? Not only was Grant inserting himself into her life—in more ways than one—now he was wandering around town and making friends with her friends. Moreover, those friends seemed to like him a lot. Which made sense, since Grant was a force. Good luck running into him and not being enchanted. Hannah was still trying to shake the effects he had on her. A feat not going so well, considering she was still married to the bastard and he was in her town, her house, and her bed.
All signs of permanence. Which made her chest tighten, and she couldn’t figure out if it was in terror or desperation. The hope that maybe he was serious about making their relationship work. Maybe he really could stick around and they could be together—
Stop.
She needed to stop this thinking. Clearly it was the alcohol swirling in her brain and not her real thoughts.
“She’s surprised I’m so likable,” Grant said to Jake, as if she couldn’t hear him.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a pain in the ass all the time, I’d believe your likability a bit more,” she countered and took a swig of her drink. Grant’s eyes were on her the entire time. Heat burned down her neck from his intense stare, even deeper than the burn of the alcohol flowing down her throat.
“You haven’t gotten a chance to really know my ass, or the pain I can bring yours,” he said with a wink. But his voice was rough and deep, and the seriousness in it made her skin prickle with anticipation.
Maybe this game wouldn’t be so bad . . .
“I wanted to come introduce myself,” he continued, “because you are the most beautifully stubborn woman I’ve ever seen.”
“How in the hell would you know any of that?” she challenged, meeting his “getting to know you” ruse head-on.
“Because I just saw that beautiful face twist with pain, then you mentally told yourself to fuck off.”
Hannah’s mouth dropped open. Either Grant was a psychic, or he read her better than she’d ever guessed.
“I . . . I was just thinking. There’s no way you could know what about.”
He grinned. Holding his tumbler of liquor between two fingers, he casually leaned against the bar, making him the focal point of Hannah’s entire position. And goddamn it, the man looked good. Dark blue jeans, black belt, and white button-down rolled at the sleeves. Still classy casual. Just like Grant.
“I think you were thinking of me. Missing me, even,” he said quietly next to her ear.
“How would you know that? We’re strangers, I thought?” she said, glancing at Jake and Laura, who were clearly playing out their own roles only a few feet away.
“Ah, so nice to meet you then, stranger.”
Shit. By saying that, Grant had trapped Hannah in role-playing, and she’d now basically offered to play along. Fantastic . . .
They were in the middle of this couples’ game, and Hannah wanted to tell both of the lovebirds where they could go.
Instead, she looked Grant over. He wanted to play? Fine. She could play.
And she’d win.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Gary. I’m Hannah,” his wife said to him, and then she shook his hand. Nice touch getting his name wrong on purpose. Brat. Sexy brat, but a brat nonetheless.
Despite his wife being her usual difficult self, Grant felt a swell of pride that the advice Jake had given him earlier might actually pay off. Hannah was on board with this little game, and Grant was excited to take full advantage. He’d have to thank Jake later for the great idea.
“May I sit?” he asked.
She kicked the open stool out for him. Laura was laughing and saying something into Jake’s ear. Those two started to flirt and headed toward the dance floor. Leaving a blessed moment of privacy between Grant and the woman he’d come to see.
“So, Glenn, tell me why a guy like you is in a town like this,” Hannah asked, facing him and taking a confident swallow of her drink. The woman was sexy and sinful, and if she wanted to get under his skin by getting his name wrong, she had another think coming. Because he’d make her yell his name tonight when she begged him for more.
“It’s Grant,” he said. “And I’m here trying to find something I’ve been missing.”
Hannah nodded. “Sounds mysterious.”
He shrugged. “More difficult than mysterious.”
She glared. Yep, he’d just called her difficult to her face. He was ready for her to break character any moment, but she didn’t.
“Well, you must be excited to get back home to the city,” she said.
“How do you know I’m from the city?” He took a drink and enjoyed watching her pretty eyes run the length of him. Just her hot gaze was enough to get him hard.
“It’s obvious,” she finally said.
“A lot of things about you are obvious as well,” he countered.
Her throat bobbed, and her strong stare wavered. She looked like she’d lost a touch of confidence when she uttered, “Like?”
He never wanted her feeling anything but confident. Just like the night he’d met her—he’d seen right away how strong she was. Yet with that kind of steady strength came a loneliness behind her eyes, and he hated seeing that. Would do anything to chase it away. So he told her what he’d thought of her the moment he met her, which still rang true tonight.
He placed a single hand on her knee briefly, then took it away. “You’re beautiful. Straight to your soul kind of beauty. So powerful I can see it alive in your eyes.”
Her lips parted briefly, and Grant loved that she seemed to like his honesty. Because he was honest, damn it. Hannah was a uniquely beautiful person. Which was why he’d fallen in love with her so quickly.
“I’m also told I’m a pain in the ass,” she said.
Oh, she absolutely was, but that’s why he loved her. That’s why she was special in a way that he’d never found in another woman. Hannah was a fighter, even when she was a lover. Never just one—always everything.
“I have no doubt,” Grant agreed.
She laughed into her glass before taking another swallow. What he’d give to taste the whiskey on her lips in that moment. And her in that dress made him think of the night in the Blue Bar. She’d been wearing the same dress. Blue. Showing off all her curves and accenting her eyes. A waterfall of black hair and painted lips made him want to taste her.
With her looking at him like that and the soft scent of ocean air, he could alm
ost convince himself that were back on that ship.
“Well, I hope you find what you’re missing and that it actually is something you can take with you.”
He looked at her for a long moment. They both knew he was talking about Hannah. Knew she was what he’d been looking for. What he wanted.
“That’s my plan,” he told her.
She brushed off his words with a soft cough and changed the subject. “You have family in New York?” she asked.
“Yes. My mother.” This wasn’t what he wanted to talk about. He wanted to play with Hannah and talk about her. Get her to cave and admit she still had feelings—strong feelings—for him.
“And your dad?” she pressed. That single question made Grant’s ribs twitch. He wasn’t prepared to talk about his dad. So he stuck to blunt, quick facts.
“He died a few months ago.”
Her eyes shot wide and fastened on him. “I’m so sorry.”
There was a genuine concern in her voice, and Grant wondered if they weren’t playing anymore. Because she looked truly sad for him. How did she do that? One look at those expressive eyes made his chest raw, like his heart was beating on the outside of his body. Fleshy and vulnerable and on display. His mouth watered with the need to speak, but he didn’t. While he should open up—he felt the overwhelming thump in his throat to talk more—he held back. Not tonight. Because the way she looked at him had him thinking he’d tell her everything.
Instead, he’d be patient and stick to simplistic responses for now.
“Thank you. He was a good man.” Grant tried to get off this topic. It was his turn to take a drink, because this pretend game felt very real.
Hannah leaned in and put her hand on his hand. “Will you tell me about him?”
Grant looked at her. He hadn’t spoken about his father to anyone since he passed. No good friends he could share experience with. He definitely couldn’t talk to his mom. And he found himself wanting to share this piece of himself with Hannah. With his wife. Because it was Hannah who kept giving him that look. Like she genuinely cared. Maybe a few details wouldn’t be so bad. He could keep himself in check.
“Even though he got screwed over by a woman, he was a romantic at heart,” he began. Hannah’s lovely eyes fixed to his face. “He took calculated risks—never anything too brazen, though. He always made time for me.”
“You are his only son?”
Grant nodded. “Yes. And I’ve never lost anyone before. The weight of feeling like he’s in me, and I carry him where I go is . . .”
“Daunting,” Hannah finished. Like she understood.
“Yes.”
He looked at her for a long moment, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think he saw pain streak across her face. But it was gone as soon as it came.
“He’ll always be a part of you. You’re lucky you have a good memory to recall,” she said.
Grant nodded. “I am lucky in many ways.” He gripped her hands. “Is your dad still alive?”
“Yep,” Hannah said quickly, then went back to her drink, slipping her hand away from his. Clearly she didn’t want to talk about it, but that made Grant want to know even more. Was this how she felt about him? Pressing him for details about his life because she was interested, just like he was interested in hers? He fucking hoped so. Because he wanted to know her. And continue to know her for the rest of his life. Starting with right now. Just one moment when she’d open up to him. Even if it was the smallest, silliest detail.
“What’s your favorite memory with him?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. None.”
“There has to be one.”
She blew out an obviously annoyed breath. Grant could read the moment a memory flashed to mind, because it played over her entire face.
“SpaghettiOs,” she said. “I was eight, and he bought me those name-brand SpaghettiOs one time when I was sick. I had a stomach bug in third grade. But I ate them and I remember smiling even when my stomach hurt so bad, because it was the only time I got to eat those. And he bought them for me.”
Grant nodded. There was so much Hannah kept close to her chest. So much she cut off. But tonight, he saw a glimpse of the woman he’d met on the cruise ship. The one who had opened up to him. And he wanted to see more.
“Is that why you have a cupboard full of it?” he asked. Her eyebrows shot up in question, and Grant shrugged. “I’ve been staying with you, remember? I was looking for food and saw four cans in there.”
She gave a short laugh. “I never really thought about it. I only eat them when I’m sick. Weird, I know. Tomato sauce and pasta made for kids, and it’s the only thing I want.”
“Because it comforts you. That’s not weird at all.”
Hannah frowned. “My father has never comforted me, so don’t go getting analytical on me, Freud.”
“I’m not trying to. I just like knowing the different ways to your heart. Now that I have the inside scoop, forget diamonds and flowers—I’m getting you canned soup and whiskey.”
She laughed, her eyes crinkling at the sides from pure joy. “You know me so well.”
That hit Grant in the gut. He did know her, and she’d just admitted it. But it wasn’t because of his joke—it was because he knew how to make her laugh, and when. Pride filled his muscles like a dose of steroids, and he was stronger from having made his wife happy tonight. It was the best victory he could have hoped for.
Hope.
That theme was ticking through every second of every day Grant was on the clock, trying to win his wife back.
He wanted to ask her more, to make her laugh again, to have her admit that he was the right man for her, but before he could ask for just that, she cut him off.
“So what do you do, Glenn?”
They were still in game mode, so he’d continue to play. He smiled, loving her sass even now, and with the squaring of her shoulders, he could tell she was back to playing her part, trying to go for surface questions. But Grant could dig deeper using only a surface tool.
“I’m in business.”
“No shit,” she said in a bored tone. “That could mean anything from you work at a dry cleaner’s to you’re in the mob.”
“Somewhere in the middle. But closer to dry cleaner.”
She laughed. And he missed that sound. Her happy. He tried to remember how many times he’d made her laugh on the cruise ship. A lot. But she didn’t seem the same. Either the past six months had been tough on her, or his wife’s life here in this small town maybe wasn’t what she wanted. He could only hope to push her to move to New York with him.
One step at a time . . .
He had to get her to admit she liked him first.
Then admit she still loved him.
“What do you do?” he asked, changing the topic on her.
“I own a bar,” she said confidently.
“That right?”
She glanced away. “Well, I will soon. Just a few details I’m ironing out.” She glared at him. “And I’m also dealing with some legal matters so no one can claim what’s mine.”
So she was still pissed about his little blackmail stunt. He would never take her bar or her dreams. He wanted to help. He used what he had to in order to get a second chance with her. But once again, there was a lot he couldn’t say out loud. For now, she could be pissy with him about this, because it got him the two weeks he wanted. Well, one week and, come tomorrow, five days. Time was already dwindling fast.
“The bar down on Main Street?” he asked, sticking to character. “That’s a cool place. Looks busy. Would be a good investment opportunity.”
“Yeah, if only I could get the whole investment,” she mumbled. Grant was pretty sure he wasn’t meant to hear that, but he did. Hannah needed money? Help? He wanted to spring into action and save the day, but if there was one thing he knew about his wife, it was that her pride was important.
“Oh my gosh, I’ve got it!” Laura said loudly, inserting he
rself between Grant and Hannah, clearly having had at least two drinks in the past fifteen minutes. Judging by the sway in her step, she must be feeling tipsy. “What if we throw a parade?”
Hannah frowned, and so did Grant.
“It’s okay, Laura, we’ll talk about this later,” Hannah said quietly.
“No, no, I mean it. There’s a ton of money to be made in parades!”
Yep, Hannah’s friend was drunk and also confirming what Grant had thought: Hannah needed money to buy her bar.
“Let’s talk about this tomorrow,” Hannah said, and Laura danced to the music and sipped her pink drink and went back to Jake near the dance floor.
Grant didn’t want to ask for details—he wanted to help. And Hannah would never let him. But he had to be sure what the hell she was talking about. He knew money talk, and that was obviously the prime issue here. He still needed more details on just what Hannah was struggling with and what she was hiding. He had to be sly about uncovering this, though, because he was very aware of his wife’s pride.
“So you’re in the parade business now?”
Hannah shook her head and ordered two shots of whiskey. Grant was surprised when she slid one his way.
“Don’t worry about it. She’s just drunk.”
Grant nodded. Hannah was definitely keeping her money situation from him. Just like he was from her. Ironic thing was, he could help if she would only let him.
Which meant he’d have to come through with the truth about his financial situation, too. So it looked like he’d have to activate stealth mode and make things happen under the table.
“To new beginnings,” he said and held up his shot.
Hannah clanked it. And in one swallow, they both took it.
The band started to play the song “Red Red Wine,” and he caught a glimpse of Hannah’s smile.
“That was a good night,” he said, hoping she was hearing the same lyrics he was and recalling the same thing. She looked at him, and her eyes told him she knew exactly what he was talking about.