Scooping Max into her arms, she’d promised Deacon that it’d be fine. Kids got like this sometimes, but it almost always passed quickly. And it had, too. Just a few minutes after the band left, she’d had Max happily distracted, and he spent the rest of the afternoon and into the night playing Ninja Turtles and running her ragged.
Unfortunately, Deacon hadn’t been there to see any of that.
“Sweetheart, you’ve got to give yourself a break.” Pushing up out of the bench seat, she walked over and grabbed his arm, this time not to flirt or to push any boundaries, but to offer comfort. “Max is fine. I promise. That meltdown only lasted the time it took for you to get inside the arena. He had a great day. He and Lizzie went nonstop until they finally crashed out twenty minutes ago.”
She smiled to alleviate the tension in his rigid shoulders, but Deacon didn’t see it. His head was still bowed, his arms bulging over hands clenched tightly around the countertop. Hannah felt helpless. Obviously, the man was drowning in guilt, but she didn’t know what to do.
“Do you want me to wake him?”
Deacon shook his head. “Nah, he needs his sleep.” He scuffed a boot across the floor and released a breath. “It’s just…I promised myself I wouldn’t miss anything else, you know? I can’t be here with him all day like you are, but early dinners and story time, that was our thing.”
“And it’s still your thing. Deacon, before you left today, you must’ve read that kid a hundred stories. It doesn’t matter what time you read them, only that you do it. That boy knows you love him. Don’t ever doubt that.”
When he didn’t respond or even look at her, Hannah pushed up onto her toes and angled her head right under his. Wary green-gray eyes stared back. “You’re an incredible father, Deacon. I couldn’t be more proud of how you are with him. But you’ve got to trust that I’ve got this covered when you’re away. I won’t ever let anything happen to that kid. I love him as much as you do. So, when I tell you that he’s okay, I need you to believe that he’s fine. We’ve got this.”
She sank back down onto her heels, smiling softly as the hard lines around his mouth softened. “We’re a good team, you and I,” she told him. “Max is surrounded by love and he’s having the adventure of a lifetime. You’re giving him that, Deacon. You. But you can’t be in two places at once. You’ve got to cut yourself some slack.”
Placing her hands atop his, she tried jostling his arms to lighten the mood, and Deacon’s pinkie fingers latched onto her own. He stared at her for a long moment, his slowly warming eyes doing the talking until he rested his forehead against hers with a soft exhale. Minty breath fanned across her lips.
“Thank you.”
Two words. Deacon didn’t need to say anything more. She knew he was thanking her for what she’d said, thanking her for accepting the job with the band—hell, he was even thanking her for loving Max as much as she did. But what he never seemed to understand was that he didn’t need to thank her for those things. Hannah was exactly where she wanted to be. Where she’d always wanted to be.
Where she was meant to be.
Another moment of silent communication passed, giving and offering strength, and Hannah had an understanding of her own. This was her moment.
Any second, a roadie or Arabella would come knocking on the door to bring Deacon back to the arena. Hannah had literally just told herself not ten minutes earlier that she needed to step up her efforts…and here was the perfect opportunity.
They were alone.
A slight buzz warmed her veins.
And for once, Deacon’s guard was down.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Hannah closed the shred of distance between them. A twinge of confusion passed over Deacon’s face as his body went still against her. Boldly, she lifted her hands and placed them on his firm chest, right over the steady heartbeat that pounded under her fingertips.
As she stared into his eyes, refusing to shy away, his hands slid hesitantly to her waist. The thick knot in his throat bobbed in a swallow, and his eyes tracked back and forth between each of hers…
Then, they fell to her mouth.
A halleluiah chorus broke out in heaven. Hannah’s breath stuttered and stalled, but with her pulse roaring in her ears, she lifted onto her toes, gliding her hands up and onto his shoulders, crushing her chest against his. The muscles in Deacon’s arms turned to stone around her. He stood there like a frozen mansicle, wariness and another emotion she couldn’t quite name chasing across his features.
For one long, delicious moment, Hannah didn’t breathe. She didn’t push for more but simply let herself be held, waiting to see which way Deacon would play it.
Would he acknowledge her as a woman?
Would he finally see past the childhood pal he clung to in his memory?
Or would he continue acting as though she hadn’t changed? That together they were still the same old Superman and Cherry they’d always been. Best friends and nothing more.
As the seconds stretched, Deacon didn’t push her away, but he didn’t pull her any closer, either. His eyes darted back and forth between hers, his muscles hard beneath her hands and his breaths still a little uneven. His hands were clenched tightly around her hips. Slowly, almost reluctantly, his gaze dropped to her mouth again and held.
Hope lit up her veins in a warm, ticklish rush.
A kiss told you everything you needed to know. Her mama, along with many wise Motown singers, proclaimed that very truth, and Hannah firmly believed it. While far from an expert, she had been kissed before, and even had a handful of boyfriends in college…yet, she’d never once been passionately kissed. Not like in her favorite books or movies where time stopped and everything else faded away. She’d never been the reason a man lost his head, or had her own spin like a Tilt-a-Whirl. Somewhere in the back of her mind Hannah had always known, This isn’t Deacon.
But that wasn’t the case now. The arms around her were Deacon’s. The firm mouth a hairsbreadth from touching hers was his, too. An exhale parted her lips, and Hannah licked them in anticipation. This was the moment. The moment that could change everything.
Suddenly, the grip on her hips went lax.
Stepping back, Deacon shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stared at the ground, his lips moving almost imperceptibly like he was saying something under his breath. In the dim lighting of the bus, his normally expressive eyes were unreadable.
Disappointment and hurt crashed over her in waves, but as a muscle jumped in his jaw, Hannah fought every instinct she had to run away. Biting down on the inside of her cheek, she focused on the pain of that instead of the rejection, refusing to do the expected.
Deacon knew her better than anyone. He was probably betting on her shying away, pretending the moment between them hadn’t just happened. But it had. Unlike that miserable night so long ago, this time she didn’t think she’d misread the hint of interest in his eyes, or the way his hands had tightened around her waist.
Boldly, Hannah lifted her chin. No, this wasn’t another embarrassing repeat of the past. He’d thought about kissing her. She’d seen it in the way he looked at her mouth. Sure, he hadn’t acted on it, but the idea had been planted.
When he raised his head, she met his questioning stare with a confident one of her own, deciding right then and there that she could play this game for as long as it took. Because for the first time ever, she had more than a sliver of hope.
Her mouth twitched with a smile. A real, honest-to-goodness almost kiss?
That was enough to boost her sails for a while.
“Uh, sorry. Am I interrupting?” At the sound of Sherry’s voice, Deacon jumped to the side. He stepped away like they’d been caught doing something wrong, and although it didn’t feel good, even that couldn’t completely damper Hannah’s spirits. She was practically floating.
“Not at all,” he answered gruffly. He coughed once to clear his voice, and Hannah fought back a smile. “I better get back to the arena. The sho
w should be starting soon.”
Sherry smirked as she leaned her head against the wall. “Tell my music man I said knock ’em dead.”
Deacon rubbed his palms against his jeans and briefly met Hannah’s gaze. An apology was there, mixed with confusion, and then he ducked down the stairs and out the bus door, muttering a good night.
Hannah waited until the door sealed shut before she released a shaky breath.
Well, that kind of sucked. Apologetic was not the emotion she wanted him to end on, but at least there had been a small glimpse of promise.
Turning on her heel, she walked back to the table, her mind a jumble of questions and half-baked plans of attack. With this encounter under her belt, should she push harder the next time she saw him, or should she hang back and let the experience marinate?
Sherry joined her at the table, her face expressionless as she reached for the untouched chocolate bar. The thought was there to ask the would-be matchmaker her opinion, but Hannah couldn’t bring herself to go there.
As she stewed, Sherry broke off a chunk of candy and brought it to her lips. She chewed quietly, nodding to herself while glancing between her and the recently vacated door. Hannah’s cheeks warmed under the perusal, but she said nothing, not yet ready to admit how strong her feelings for Deacon were. She couldn’t let go of the possibility that she’d been wrong once before.
Besides, knowing Sherry as well as she now did, she’d go full-blown Cupid in an instant, and Hannah wasn’t sure she was ready for all that would entail.
Unfortunately, her readiness might not mean squat because a bright, smug smile suddenly curved the other woman’s lips, and with a mouth still full of chocolate she proclaimed, “Just friends, my ass.”
Chapter Five
Suspicious.
That’s the word that came to mind as Hannah stirred the simmering pot of taco soup on the stove and snuck another glance at Sherry and Arabella.
Normally, she wouldn’t have thought twice about two friends sitting so close together, especially as kind and loving as these women were. She’d gotten to know Sherry and Ella in the past two weeks of traveling, and while the concept of female friendship still made her a bit uneasy, Hannah knew they weren’t like the girls she’d grown up with. They weren’t whispering to exclude her, or gossiping to make her feel inferior. Frankly, she doubted either of them had a mean bone in their bodies.
What they did have, however, was a healthy dose of curiosity…and, when it came to Sherry Blue at least, a raging case of matchmaker-itis.
Two days had passed since the almost kiss with Deacon. Two days of him pretending that nothing had happened, two days of reminding herself that it really had (it hadn’t just been her imagination, dang it!), and two days of Sherry walking around like the cat that ate the canary.
Hannah hadn’t confirmed a thing, despite the other woman’s smug grin, but evidently that hadn’t mattered. Her new friend’s eyes had followed every hug, laugh, or accidental touch Hannah and Deacon had shared since, the wheels in her mind spinning visibly in the air. Still, Hannah had held back. As much as she could use help in the Deacon department, that level of trust just didn’t come easily for her.
Unfortunately, that left her floundering alone, and with zero direction on what step to take next. So far, the two times she’d been remotely successful—the lingerie incident and the almost kiss—had been moments of spontaneity. Not exactly the trustiest or easiest map to replicate, especially with the Harvest Moon Dance less than a month and a half away.
Hannah set down the spoon with a heavy sigh, and the exhale acted like a beacon for the other women. After exchanging a final glance, Sherry and Arabella stood in unison.
Ah, crap. That previous suspicion of hers just bloomed into full-fledged confirmation.
As her new friends approached, Hannah turned and walked to the kitchenette table. She made sure to keep her face calm as she sat down and tucked her hands beneath her thighs. She couldn’t show weakness. These women may be her friends, and for all Hannah knew the best matchmakers this side of the Mississippi, but what did either of them know about unrequited love, or wanting what you couldn’t have? They were gorgeous, talented, and had the men in their lives wrapped around their little fingers.
Nope, as sweet as it was that they were concerned about her love life, Hannah just couldn’t bring herself to admit how clueless and hopeless she truly was.
“So…we’ve been talking,” Sherry said, lowering herself onto the bench. Her face practically glowed with excitement. That didn’t make Hannah less nervous at all.
“Oh, yeah? What about?”
Arabella gave her a sheepish grin. “You, mostly. But you’ve got to understand, Sherry can’t help herself. When she sees two people meant to be together, she jumps in with both feet. As one of her many satisfied customers, I guess I want everyone as happy as Charlie and I are, too.”
That got Hannah’s attention.
“What do you mean, satisfied customer?” Surely, Arabella hadn’t needed Sherry’s help. What man on God’s green earth wouldn’t want to be with her?
“Sherry played Cupid this summer when she saw me pathetically mooning over Charlie,” she confirmed. “That man was as stubborn as Deacon is now. If it wasn’t for her help, I doubt we ever would’ve gotten our act together.”
“Sure you would have,” Sherry cut in, bumping Ella’s shoulder. “Eventually. I just pushed things along, is all.” Glancing at Hannah she said, “I have the patience of a hummingbird when it comes to love.”
Arabella rolled her eyes. “That she does. But trust me, it’s worth it. Sherry knows what she’s doing. As for me, I’m great with making plans and moral support, even just as a listening ear from someone who’s been there.”
Still shocked that Arabella and Charlie, two people so perfect for each other they could be wedding cake toppers, had a rough start, Hannah shook her head. “Been where?”
Deny, deny, deny. That was her game plan.
An ineffective one, judging from Sherry’s wide smile. “Oh, Hannah.” She tsked. “You can’t kid a kidder. I saw what happened the other night…or what could’ve happened, if Deacon didn’t have his head stuck up his ass. That man’s blind to what’s sitting right in front of him.” She exchanged a glance with Arabella.
“And that’s where we come in,” the manager said.
Hannah winced. While a big part of her did sort of want to throw her hands in the air and beg for advice, she was torn. Clearly, these women knew a thing or two about love. They were blissfully paired with their own country rockers, and it even sounded as though Ella understood where she was coming from. But the other part of her remembered the last time she’d trusted someone with her feelings.
As if reading her mind, Sherry stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry. “Please don’t tell me you’re gonna stick with the whole ‘just friends’ story. What do we look like here, amateurs?”
Arabella smirked. “Easy, mama. I think the baby’s hungry.” Snatching a granola bar from the snack basket, she tossed it at Sherry and sent Hannah a wink. “Excuse her. Love is her mission field, and she’s gone too long between feedings.”
Sherry pursed her lips, but then nodded in agreement and tore into the bar, taking a big old bite with a smile. “See? Patience of a hummingbird.”
Arabella scooted forward on the bench. “Listen, Hannah, I didn’t see what happened the other night, but I have watched you and Deacon orbit each other the last couple weeks. I’ve got to say…friends don’t look at each other the way you two do.”
“I see the way you look at him.”
With just those simple words, Hannah was back in high school.
The cushioned bench beneath her thighs faded away, and the fancy tour bus transformed into her childhood bedroom. Arabella’s long brown hair gave way to a stylish blonde pixie cut, and her sweet smile was replaced with feigned sympathy.
“I see the way you look at him,” Krista said, placing a hand on Hann
ah’s shoulder. The thin blouse she’d purchased with her own money at Walmart scratched across her skin. “You’ve got to know Deke will never think of you that way. He sees you as…as a sister. Almost like…a puppy.” Krista tilted her head and looked down at her with pity. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
A soft touch on her hand snapped Hannah back to the present, and she blinked.
Arabella smiled at her kindly. “You know, not too long ago, I was right where you are. Charlie and I were friends first, too.” She thought a moment. “Actually, first I obsessed over him for years while he saw me as nothing but a kid. Then we were friends, neighbors, and coworkers. That’s when Sherry got her hands on us.” She sighed wistfully in thought, then mused aloud, “I think friendships make for the best relationships.”
“Totally,” Sherry agreed, pressing an index finger against the foil wrapper to collect all the crumbs. “Ty and I did things crazy. We got married first, became friends second, and then fell in love, but we’re more the exception than the rule. The best love stories always start with friendship.” She licked her finger and grinned. “Luke and Lorelai, Joey and Pacey, Harry and Sally. And don’t even get me started on my books. That’s my favorite trope by far.”
As Sherry went on to prove exactly that, listing her favorite book couples on her fingers without either of them asking, a strange new sensation swirled in Hannah’s belly.
Experience had taught her that sharing her heart, at least with other women, only led to broken hearts and broken friendships. But a new voice, a much louder one, was challenging her to try again. These women were different. More than that, she’d vowed to start being open to new experiences. Doing so meant leaving the past behind.
With that in mind, Hannah released a deep breath and announced, “I’m in love with Deacon.”
Sherry paused in her book listing to stare blankly ahead, and Arabella just sat there.
The Nanny Arrangement (Country Blues) Page 8