24. Maddox

TWENTY-FOUR

I feel it. The way she sinks into me.

I wrap my fingers around her upper arm and pull her into my side a little tighter.

"Wonderful!" Roberts's wife calls out.

I drop my arm from around the man's shoulders. "Introduce me," I tell him. But I don't drop my arm from Hannah's shoulders. Not right away.

I can feel her hand pressing against my lower back, just to the side of my spine, where her hand rested when she hugged me.

Roberts hurries over to his wife, who is already holding her phone out to show him the pictures and not looking at us. So, keeping my hold on Hannah, I turn her with me and step out of the box with her tucked into my side.

I tip my head down to her as we approach the Roberts. "Don't you dare leave me alone with them."

The hand on my back shifts, and she pokes me. "Be nice."

I huff as I release her. "I'm always nice."

She lets out a puff of air. "You called Brandon a dipshit."

I bite down on my urge to laugh. She's right. I did do that.

"Mr. Lovelace, this is my wife." Roberts beams next to the kind-looking woman. "Wife, allow me to introduce you to our new owner, Maddox ‘Mad Dog' Lovelace."

From the edge of my vision, I can see Hannah shake her head.

"Mrs. Roberts." I hold out my hand. "It's a pleasure. And please, it's just Maddox."

Mrs. Roberts places one hand in mine while pressing the other to her chest. "Hi! We're huge fans. Or we were. Well, we still are."

I let go of her hand. "I appreciate that."

"And this party." She waves her hands around. "It's so nice. Oh!" She turns and picks up a couple of glasses off the table behind her. "Hannah dear, here's your wine."

Hannah takes it as Mrs. Roberts hands the other drink to her husband.

"Thank you," Hannah says as she smiles at Mrs. Roberts.

I want her smiles.

Something niggles inside my ribs.

I want more than her smiles.

Mrs. Roberts is still looking at Hannah. "Gosh, you know who you'd be perfect for? Our nephew." She nudges her husband. "Wouldn't they be perfect together?"

I take back every nice thought I just had about the woman.

"You're right!" Roberts replies, his bushy eyebrows jumping up his forehead.

I consider demoting him.

Hannah shifts next to me, and I expect her to nicely turn them down.

"You think so?" she asks. "What's he like?"

Slowly, I turn my head to look down at her.

Mrs. Roberts claps her hands. "Oh, he's so sweet. Are you single?"

"Sure am." Hannah takes a long sip of her wine as Mrs. Roberts makes more sounds of excitement.

"He's an accountant too," Mrs. Roberts explains. "Works for his dad, my brother, who's…" She giggles. "Also an accountant."

Gee, what a fun fucking family.

"And he likes football!" Roberts chimes in. "I know you're a big fan, so maybe you could watch a game together or something."

I keep my eyes on Hannah. "You like football?"

She glances up at me for just a second, then shrugs her shoulders.

Roberts laughs. "This girl can talk ball with the best of them. Pretty sure we did an after-game report for all your games during our lunch breaks. Or, well, your games until you retired."

"You don't say?"

Roberts nods, then turns back to Hannah. "Our nephew has a nice big TV too. Perfect for game nights."

So my little Hannah Bunny watched all my games, did she?

"Do you have a picture?" Hannah asks, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from growling at her.

She doesn't want some little accountant twerp.

She wants someone… bigger.

While Mr. Roberts leans over the phone with Mrs. Roberts's, looking through photos, I angle myself toward Hannah, keeping my voice low. "What are you doing?"

She blinks up at me. "It's hard to find a good man nowadays. It's this or sifting through the dick pics in my inbox."

An angry sound rumbles out of my chest. "Men are sending you dick pics?"

"Online dating is tough." She tries to smirk, but it's more of a cringe.

My hands ball into fists. "You will not—"

"Here he is." Mrs. Roberts thrusts her phone forward.

I stare at the man on the screen and can't stop myself from asking, "How old is he?"

"Twenty-six." Mrs. Roberts beams.

Hannah clears her throat. "He's cute."

She's a fucking liar.

He's not cute. He looks like a goddamn baby. Because he is a baby. Hannah doesn't need someone a damn decade younger than her. She needs someone one year older.

A server appears at my side with a glass on his tray. "Bartender said to bring this over."

I already had the one drink I was allowing myself tonight, but this conversation requires more liquor.

"Thank you." I take the glass, then raise it and my gaze to the bartender across the room.

He gives me a thumbs-up.

Taking a long sip, I make a mental note to double the tip I was planning to give the staff.