19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Remington

Hannah insisted we flip a coin for who took the first shot when I’d tried to be a gentleman and let her have it. No matter where I’d traveled, there always seemed to be a pool table, so I’d played a lot over the years. I wasn’t a world champion by any means, but I held my own. Yet, despite what I’d said, I wasn’t out to beat Hannah. Giving her the first shot had been my olive branch, which she’d rejected soundly.

Then she won the coin toss anyway, the goddamn menace.

“I can’t believe you sicced Tina and Teller on me.”

Her eyes flashed to me as she chalked her cue. “I don’t know; it seemed like you were enjoying your time with them. Looked like you were on a double date.”

“You believe I was there willingly?”

She smirked, the little shit. “I can’t imagine any other reason you’d be sitting at a table with those three, listening to Tina perform Shakespeare.”

“Too bad you missed Teller reciting Cummings.”

Her brows rose. “Moving, was it?”

“Oh yeah.” I tapped the table with my fist. “I came in for a drink. Maybe some conversation if anyone worth talking to was around. Then those three showed up, sat at my table, and there was no escape—not until Cormac took pity on me.”

Tina and Teller had been less than amused when he’d revealed Hannah had been joking about my love for poetry. Not that I had anything against it, but I’d never had the burning desire for it to be recited to me ad nauseam.

“My brother”—she shook her head—“barely remembers you, you know, so he doesn’t hold a grudge.”

I didn’t need to point out she seemed to be the only one keeping hold of her grudge against me. She knew it as well as I did. But her family’s anger was a decade old. Hers was a lot fresher, more painful. If she still needed to be mad at me, I’d let her use me as a target. I understood what it was like to carry a load of anger. If it didn’t come out somewhere, it’d tear her apart, and I wasn’t going to stand by and let that happen. I could withstand her anger when it manifested into poetry and potshots.

And the best fucking kiss of my life.

She leaned over the table, lining up her shot. Standing slightly behind her, I allowed myself a meandering look at her long, leanly muscled body. Legs that went on for days and days. An ass that filled out her jeans in all the right ways. A waist that curved in just enough for a pair of hands to fit on either side. Hannah was well made. Sturdy enough to face down stallions and Wyoming winters while painfully feminine in her little movements, her scent, sweet laughter, and all the details that made up the rest of her.

The luxurious, thick, shiny hair cascading down her back was a contrast to the simplicity of her style. She’d worn it down tonight, and my fingers twitched to trail through it, to bury themselves in the depths, to know if it felt as soft and silky as it looked.

She’d made the first shot and was lining up her second when she spoke. “I feel your eyes on my ass.”

“Think I’d be insulting you if I didn’t look. It’s a mighty fine ass.”

Her shot went wide. She whirled around, her cheeks flushed. “You did that on purpose.”

I lifted a shoulder. “You brought up your ass. I just told you what I thought of it.”

Hair whipping behind her back, she groaned. “Don’t be cute, Remington. Unlike my brother, I can hold a grudge until the end of time.”

“I thought we were past that.”

“We were, until that kis—forget it. Just stop looking at my ass and take your turn.” She stalked over to the high-top table we’d set our drinks on and took a long swallow of the bright red concoction she called a drink.

The next two shots were mine. I took my time with them, drawing out the game as long as I could. After this, I had no doubt Hannah would hightail it out of here, and I’d drive back to the house. To the quiet and solitude I didn’t think I’d ever get used to again. Too many years at the center of the action had me seeking a piece of that. It was how I’d ended up at Joy’s the last few nights. That, and I’d suspected I’d eventually run into Hannah again since our paths seemed to be on a collision course lately.

We traded places when I missed. I took a pull from my beer while Hannah bent over the table again, her ass angled away from me this time.

“When did you leave the ranch?” I asked.

She straightened, holding her cue in one hand. “A few years back. Maccie moved to one of the staff cabins when he came back from college, and Phe rented the apartment below the one that’s now mine to be close to Sugar Rush. It was just me, Mom, and Dad for a while. I hadn’t really considered moving, but Graham had told me it was time to go.”

Surprise and mistrust tightened my gut. “What gave him the right to tell you that?”

The curve of her mouth was bitter, but her eyes turned wistful and distant. “You ever work with anyone day in, day out for years?”

A few faces ran through my mind, catching on one. Logan. He hadn’t made it out of the crash that almost killed me.

Yeah, now wasn’t the time to think about Logan. I’d save that for when I was trying to go to sleep and all I could do was stare at the ceiling, imagining his final minutes.

I cleared my throat, shaking off the memories. “I’d always end up in the same places with the same people.”

“You bonded?”

“It wasn’t an office situation where we sat around during our lunch breaks and shot the shit.”

She cocked her head, waiting for me to answer her. I dug deep, thought about what a bond meant. I couldn’t say I’d been friends with most of the journalists I’d spent time with, but there were shared experiences that had made us understand each other in a way outsiders never could.

I blew out a breath. “We bonded.”

Her nod was decisive. “That was me and Graham. He rode with me to see my clients, helped me out when I needed it. That put us in my truck every day on long, open roads. We talked. A lot. Eventually, he knew me as well as my blood family. So, when he told me it was time to move on and give my parents the privacy they deserved after raising four and a half kids—you’re the half, by the way—I listened. Besides, he’d been right. Lucky for me, the apartment above Phe’s was put up for rent, so I snagged it and have been there ever since.”

I swallowed a thick shard of rock. My father had never given me a lick of advice. I’d never given him the opportunity. For the first time since returning to Sugar Brush, a sense of loss crept in. Doubt over my choice to never look back dimmed my edges. The version of Graham Hannah spoke of was so foreign I couldn’t even begin to fathom the kind of advice he would have given me if he’d had the chance. Would I have taken it? I couldn’t say, and now, I’d never know.

Hannah released a light, airy giggle, bringing me out of my thoughts. “I don’t want to even think about what my parents are doing with the house to themselves. One time, I showed up without calling first, and…well, let’s just say those two crazy kids are still very into each other.”

I had no choice but to laugh with her. “Good for them. Don’t wanna think about it either, but I’m happy they have something rare like that.”

“Rare is right.” She emptied her glass and slammed it down on the table beside my beer. “Take your shot, Remington.”

I grinned. “Every time you say my full name, I hear it as a cuss word.”

“Good.” She returned my grin. “That’s my intention. But out of curiosity, which one?”

A laugh from deep in my chest shook my shoulders as I released it. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so hard or loud. Maybe never. Hannah had a way of chipping away at me, cracking open parts I’d abandoned long ago.

“Starts with an f , sweetheart,” I finally managed to say.

She giggled. “The right one, then.” Then she reached for her glass, frowning when she found it empty, like she’d forgotten she’d drunk it all.

I nodded toward the full beer beside mine. “Take that one. It was meant for Cormac before he cut out early.”

She yanked her hand away from the table like she’d touched something hot. “Oh no. I’m good. Thanks for the offer.”

“Not a beer fan?”

“Nope. I prefer to get drunk on the sugar in my Shirleys.”

“Ah. Not a drinker?”

“I’m not,” she confirmed.

We kept talking and playing. I ordered her another Shirley Temple and drank Cormac’s beer myself. I won the first game, but Hannah trounced me in the second. She was just as sore of a loser as she was a terrible, gloating winner, and both fucking delighted me.

I wasn’t ready for the night to end, but she hung up her cue, stretching her arms over her head. Her jaw cracked, she yawned so wide.

“I’m going to hit the road.”

“You look like you’re slumping.” I hung my cue next to hers on the wall rack and slipped my hands in my pockets. “I’ll drive you home.”

“That would be silly. It’s a five-minute walk.”

“Then I’ll walk you home.” She opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, but I held up a finger. “You can say no to me for most things, and I’ll listen, but this is not one of them. I’m walking you home, Hannah.”

“I wasn’t going to say no.”

I winged a brow. “Really?”

She chucked me under the chin with her knuckle. “Guess you’ll never know, Remington.”

I groaned, following behind her as she started for the door. “You’re a menace. You know that?”

The sway she added to her hips was answer enough. She knew exactly what she was doing—and she was having fun doing it.

Once we were outside, I fell into step beside her. The sidewalks along Main Street were pretty empty, only illuminated by intermittent streetlamps. When we’d put a little distance between us and Joy’s, our boots hitting pavement and Hannah’s soft exhales became the only sounds I was aware of.

To my surprise, Hannah didn’t seem in a big rush to get home. As we walked, my hand brushed against hers. She didn’t pull away, so I let my pinkie slide over hers.

She turned her head, squinting at me. “Are you flirting with me right now?”

I curled my pinkie around hers. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

She wiggled the finger I had hooked but kept it where it was. “Feels like you do.”

“Guess I’m good at faking it. I haven’t had a clue what I’m doing or where I’m going in a long while.”

“Hmmm. It feels like wherever you’re going, you’re gonna take me with you.” Soft, lilting words placed into the starry night by her sweet mouth had me reacting viscerally.

“Christ, Hannah.” I took her hand in mine and dragged her under the awning of the building we were passing, cloaking us in shadows. “All I know is I can’t stop thinking about the taste of you. It’s wrong, I know it. I need to walk you home and let it be. That would be smart.”

Her face was mostly hidden in the dark, but I made out her long, slow blinks. “You told me no, Remi. You pushed me away.”

“You were upset, sweetheart. I would’ve been taking advantage of you in that state if I had let it continue. I may not be perfect, but I’m not that kind of man.”

Her soft exhale brushed my chin. “And you want to kiss me now?”

“Hell yes, I do.” I brought my hand to her face, cupping her jaw. She leaned into my touch and shuffled closer, her breasts skimming my chest.

“Then what are you waiting for, Remingt—?”

I was on her before she could finish, wrapping my arm around her back and covering her mouth with mine. The rest of my name—her curse—became muffled as we collided.

That was what it was. A crash of two bodies, an explosion of tongues and lips, a detonation of hands feeling, clawing, clinging. We twisted until Hannah’s back hit the building, her chest flush with mine. I dug my fingers into her hair and gripped the ass that had been driving me to distraction all night with my free hand.

Time and place ceased to matter. There was only the solid, sexy warmth of the woman in my arms, the feel of her hand snaking up the back of my shirt so we were skin to skin, her tongue tangling with mine. Her shape and height fit like we’d been formed for this—for each other.

She broke the kiss first, laughing breathlessly against my lips. “Come on, Remington. I have to get home.”

My forehead rolled along hers. “Yeah? You’re still tired?”

“Exhausted.” She shoved me away but snagged my hand. “Walk me home like you promised.”

“Fuck, Hannah,” I gritted out. My zipper was making imprints on my dick as it tested the sturdiness of my jeans, but I managed to move along with her.

We got half a block before she whirled around, her palms flat on my chest, her eyes dancing over my face. In the circle of light from the streetlamp above us, I made out Hannah’s swollen lips and tangled hair. Never considered I’d be seeing her this way, nor that I’d be the one responsible, but I was proud as hell and so turned on by her I couldn’t think straight.

That was all right. In the next second, she pressed up on her toes and slotted her mouth with mine. This kiss was teasing, light and airy. A little nip and suck, her tongue dragging along my lower lip before she pulled it between hers. Then she was gone again. Her fingers still woven with mine, we continued toward her place.

“You’re not going to regret this tomorrow, are you?” she asked.

“I’ll have to see how tomorrow pans out. Are you going to go back to avoiding me?”

She shrugged. “I doubt it, but I’m somewhat unpredictable—even to myself.” She turned to look at me. “I don’t do well with rejection. It always feels bigger than it is.”

“I was trying to do the right thing last week. You get that? It had nothing to do with whether I liked kissing you.”

I stopped, yanking her against me. We were almost to her place, and as much as I wanted to, I wasn’t going inside with her. But I wasn’t done with her mouth yet. Not by a long shot.

Holding the base of her skull, I tipped her head back and lowered my mouth to hers. A high little whimper escaped her lips as we made contact. This kiss was slow, gentle, stretching the time we had out in long strokes of my tongue over hers. Little by little, she melted like wax, draping her body against mine.

That hand of hers snuck up the back of my shirt again, and her fingertips dragged along my spine. Up and down, up and down, sinking me into this moment with her. In the recesses of my thoughts, I remembered why we shouldn’t have been doing this, but everything about having Hannah in my arms, our mouths joined, felt too right to care.

Then her hips rocked against me, and I forgot everything, even my fucking name. My dick was angry, hard, wanting inside her, to be touched by her, any of her attention. All she’d given was a little friction. And dear god, I was on edge.

Her lips curved into a smile against mine. “We’re probably on every business owner’s security cam right now.”

I growled, pulling my face away from hers. “Damn this town for finally becoming high tech.”

She snorted a laugh and slowly slid her hand out from under my tee. “I think you were walking me home.”

“That’s right. Let’s do that.”

I shook my hand free so I could wrap my arm around her waist and tuck her into my side. Now that the thought of someone seeing her, watching her, had been put into my head, I was pissed, mostly at myself. For not considering anything like that, but also at the imaginary prying eyes who’d be playing back the footage.

We arrived at her place in no time, and Hannah once again twisted in my arms. Reaching up, she cupped my face in both hands, her eyes dancing between mine, only visible under her porch light.

They came to a standstill, gazing directly at me, and I braced myself for what she had to say. I had no idea what was going on in this girl’s mind. To be honest, her unpredictability was part of her appeal. She kept me on my toes.

“I had a good night with you,” she finally said.

“I did too.” I gripped her waist, stroking my thumbs against the skin just above the waistband of her jeans. “Great night.”

“I want to invite you in, but I’m not going to.”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t take that invitation.”

Hannah dimmed in an instant. Like someone had taken a vacuum and sucked all the light from her.

“Oh. Okay.” She tried to turn, but I wasn’t letting go. Not yet.

“I want to. You have to feel how badly I want to.” I pressed forward, prodding her belly with my cock. It was supposed to be a demonstration of my desire, but I couldn’t stop the groan from traveling out of my chest or suppress my need to rock against her a couple more times. “You feel that, sweetheart? That’s all for you.”

Breath hitching, she looked at me through her lashes. “I feel it.”

“But you and I just came to a truce tonight. So even if you would’ve invited me in, I would have been a gentleman and resisted because it’s the right thing to do. I don’t want you waking up tomorrow with regret. I don’t want that for either of us.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You assume I would have asked you to stay.”

“I assume one time wouldn’t be enough for either of us and we’d fuck until we both passed out. That’s all I assume, sweetheart.”

Her puff of breath was warm and frustrated. “I’ve never fucked all night, but yeah, I think I probably would with you.” She gave me a shove, which was becoming her signature, though this one had very little force behind it. “Well, you better get gone then.”

I let go of her hip to tap my lip. “One more, then I’ll get gone.”

With a sigh, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right. If it’ll get you leaving sooner.”

Her lips were on mine in the next breath, her fingers tangling into the back of my overgrown hair, kissing me sweet. We took our time, exploring the feel of lips and skin that had been entirely foreign before tonight. As soon as things turned heated, we cut it off, both taking a step away at the same time.

I jerked my chin toward her steps. “Get in there. I’ll wait here until I see your light flick on.”

She retreated backward, her swollen lips hitching into a smirk. “Night, Remington.”

I barked a laugh. “Glad I didn’t kiss the sass out of you.” I shooed her away. “Get out of here, Hannah Kelly.”

With a laugh of her own, she ran up the steps and disappeared out of sight. I held my breath until light spilled from her apartment then started my walk back to Joy’s. It wasn’t nearly as interesting, but it was quiet, giving me the space to think. Too bad that was the last thing I wanted to do. Not right now, when I was feeling better than I had in a long while.

I didn’t come out of that headspace until I reached my truck and noticed a slip of paper under my wiper. Grabbing it, I unfolded it and froze when I read the message someone had left behind.

Hannah Kelly is a slut. Stay away.

My head whipped around, searching for anyone who might’ve been watching, waiting for me to receive this, but there was no one nearby.

I crumpled the note in my fist, enraged anyone would think that about her, let alone leave me a message with these words on it. As if I’d heed this feeble fucking warning.

I felt it then. The walls of this town closing in around me, squeezing my shoulders tight. This was what I’d hated about living here. Everyone watching, thinking they knew other people's business when they had no clue what went on behind closed doors.

The old, familiar urge to run far licked at my heels, but I tamped it down.

This was one note. One jealous, idiotic person.

No one was going to force my hand.

I’d leave Sugar Brush when I was good and ready and not a second before.