Chapter Seven

Hannah…

I part ways with Linda’s staff at the stadium and hit a drive-through nearby, where I order a large fry and a chocolate shake—comfort food—which is necessary at the moment. It’s also a perk of being out of the fashion industry, where everything that went into one’s mouth was judged. I hated that part of that world. Honestly, I hated a lot of that world, except for learning from an amazing photographer. And the clothes. I did love the clothes.

While waiting on my order, I try to call Linda, who doesn’t answer. Why did I agree to dinner tonight? Why? Eddie V’s is ridiculously expensive, and that’s not the only thing expensive tonight. The emotional baggage I lug with me while Roarke is around comes with a price, and it’s not cheap.

My order is ready, and I pull onto the road, throwing enough salt on the fries to salt a small town before testing my shake. It’s vanilla. Ugh. I do not need anything new that is vanilla in my life right now. That’s pretty much the excitement level of where I’ve landed: vanilla. Some might find a vanilla existence a safe, comfortable one, but I don’t. Roarke sure doesn’t, either. He’s gone from veterinarian to Horse Wrangler and baseball coach. There’s nothing vanilla about that man, and clearly, one woman was too vanilla to fit his lifestyle.

Thanks to the Dallas traffic, I have an hour on the highway to think about that fact and every moment with Roarke at the event today. He made me perform with him, and that was all about trying to remind me that we were good together. Or I think it was; I feel it was. He wants to just forget the past. That’s not going to happen. I might be vanilla, but I am not a fool. I was never a fool, which is why I walked away.

By the time I head into my new loft-style apartment a few blocks from my new office in Linda’s space, I’m starting to worry about her. What if the break was bad? What if she needed surgery? Because I only have about forty-five minutes to shower, dress, and get back on the road, I leave her an urgent message and climb into the shower.

Thirty minutes later, I’ve managed to shower, dry my hair, and do my makeup. Another ten minutes later, and I’ve tried on five outfits. I’m back to just my underwear and a bra when Linda calls. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Ugh,” she murmurs, sounding drugged. “I broke my leg, and my blood sugar and blood pressure are off the charts. They say it’s the pain, but I don’t know. I might have diabetes. I’m trying not to be depressed. No chocolate? No cake? No donuts? I think I might rather die.”

“Does it run in your family?”

“Yes, it does. I’m screwed, which is why I panicked and why they drugged me and I’ve been knocked out. I’m going to be here at least overnight. I’d ask how the shoot went, but I can’t seem to care right now.”

“It went well, and I booked a job organizing Jason’s new kids camp, which I can explain later. I got the job because of you, so we can split the fees. I’m meeting them for dinner, or I’d be there with you.”

“Nonsense,” she says. “You take care of business and you keep the business. You saved my ass today, and I want you to stay in Dallas. Keep the job to launch your company.” She groans. “I’m hurting. I need to go. I’ll torture you with questions at some point, I’m sure. Just not now. Kisses.” She hangs up.

I grimace, worried about her, and decide I need to be at the hospital first thing tomorrow morning. For now, I refocus on the outfits on my bed. The burgundy dress is pretty, but it feels like I’m trying to impress Roarke. I am most definitely not trying to impress that man. The black dress pants and emerald green tank win.

…

I arrive at the restaurant just on time and check in with the hostess, who immediately leads me through the dimly lit space. Our destination is a private room in the back of the dining area with sliding wooden doors, allowing privacy. The hostess opens one door for me, and I slip inside, only to have the entire room pause in conversation to stare at me, but I see just one person. Roarke is directly across from me, next to an empty seat. My seat that will be between him and Jessica.

“She’s here!” Jessica exclaims. “So happy you made it.” She pushes to her feet, looking lovely in a pink dress. In a few steps, she’s hugging me, and Lord help me, my eyes meet Roarke’s over her shoulder. The connection punches me in the chest, and I quickly lower my lashes, fearing he’ll spy my reaction. Fearful I’ll hand him that power.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Jessica says, pulling back to look at me. “Because the food is so darn good here.”

“Starving, and I haven’t been to Eddie V’s in nearly a decade.”

“Well then, let’s order,” Jason chimes in. “Welcome, Hannah.”

Jessica releases me, and I suddenly realize that the table is for four. There are only four of us. Jessica and Jason and Roarke and me. My God, how had this happened? Jason and I exchange hellos before I head to the opposite side of the table. Roarke stands to pull out my chair, and I let him. What am I supposed to do? Kick him in the shin? That would be satisfying but unprofessional. I’m not unprofessional.

Once I’m settled in my seat, my purse on the arm of the chair, the waiter is immediately by my side asking for my drink order. “We opened a bottle of wine,” Jason offers. “Help us indulge?”

“Yes please, but a small glass,” I say. “I have a decent drive home, and I’m not what you would call a good drinker.” It’s a statement that slips out before I considered the first time I slept with Roarke was after consuming a bottle of wine.

I swallow hard and focus on the waiter, who fills my glass, a long pour that should be short. I need the long pour, though. I’ll take it. I sip the sweet red liquid and then drink deeper. I’m aware that I haven’t looked at Roarke. I’m fairly certain we’re all aware that I haven’t looked at Roarke. Jason’s cell phone rings, and he glances at the caller ID and then leans in to whisper to Jessica.

Roarke leans closer to me, a spicy masculine scent teasing my nostrils. It’s not the same cologne he used to wear. Good. I don’t need any more reminders of the past. “Is this how we’re going to do this?” he asks softly.

I inhale a small breath and then set my glass down. “I’m certain I don’t know what you mean.”

“You haven’t even looked at me since you sat down, Hannah.”

Steeling myself for the impact, I cut my stare and meet his eyes, the punch of awareness between us trembling through me, but it means nothing. It’s not a mutual feeling. It’s simply his impact on me and who knows how many other women. “Happy now?”

“Not for a very long time,” he says, and before I can question that statement, the waiter returns to take our orders.

I try to get away with a salad and potato, but Roarke isn’t having it. “I know how you love a good steak.” He eyes the waiter. “Rib eye, well done, no pink or she’ll send it back.”

I want to reject the order, but I can’t. I don’t eat meat that has any pink at all. Jason laughs. “Because she got so damn attached to the animals,” Jason teases before he and Jessica order, but that distraction doesn’t last. Jason comes right back to the topic at hand. “There was this one cow,” he tells Jessica.

I wave a fork at Jason. “Don’t go where you’re about to go.”

“Bessie,” Roarke supplies. “She named her Bessie and—”

I whirl on him. “You need to stop. Stop talking about Bessie. That has nothing to do with how I eat my steak.”

Roarke laughs, a deep rumble of sexy laughter. “We better stop, Jason,” he says, but he’s looking at me. “She didn’t eat meat for a year after naming that cow.”

He’s trying to remind me of just how well he knows me, but he knows less than he thinks he does, just as I knew less of him than I thought I did. “You save animals. How does it not bother you to save one and eat it the next minute?”

“I don’t eat the animals I save, and animals help us understand the food chain.”

“Okay, no steak for me,” I say. “Seriously. That will be wasted money.” The waiter pokes his head in the door, scanning the table to check on us. I lift my hand. “Can you cancel my steak? Just a salad and a potato.” I have a quick conversation about my order, and as soon as that’s behind me, I down a big swallow of wine. “Tell me about the festival,” I say. “It sounds exciting.”

“Yes,” Jessica says. “Let’s talk about the festival. I think it has to be a one-day event because Sweetwater can’t handle a crowd of overnight visitors. In general, that’s an issue. We’re building cabins for the campers on the ranch.”

“Wait,” I say, my voice coming out rather choked, while my pulse is now thundering in my ears. “The festival is in—it’s in Sweetwater?”

“It is,” Jessica confirms, “and why did you just turn ghostly on us? Is that a problem for you?”

Yes, I think. Yes, it’s a problem. It’s the place that used to be home. It’s the home that doesn’t exist anymore. It’s good memories. It’s bad memories. It’s everything I ever was and wasn’t with Roarke, but if I let him or the past drive me away, he wins, and I lose the opportunity to restart my career. That can’t happen. “No problem,” I reply, lifting my glass and finishing off most of my wine before adding, “planning a festival in Sweetwater is a dream come true.”