Chapter Thirty-Six

Hannah…

Jessica leans in close and wraps her arm around me. “It was killing us not to tell you happy birthday!”

“Happy birthday, little sis,” Jason says.

“Thank you,” I murmur, but all I see right now is Roarke, standing there in a black T-shirt hugging his perfect chest. No fancy costume. Just him. And that’s all it takes for him to be perfect to me.

I stand up, and Roarke grabs my waist and pulls me off the stage, catching me with his body, my hand on that perfect chest. “I thought you were done with me after the Luke thing.”

“I will never be done with you, Han. Never.” He eases me to my feet, and then he’s kissing me, this deep, drugging kiss, and I don’t care who sees. It’s everything. That one kiss is just everything. “I love you,” he says. “I have never stopped loving you.”

The music starts to play, and the DJ says, “This one is from Roarke to Hannah.” “Girl Like You” by Jason Aldean begins to play.

“You requested this?” Which is, of course, obvious, but there’s tequila and Roarke involved, which means my brain is not exactly operating well right now. My body, however, is in overdrive.

“I did a lot of things to make tonight special for you, baby.”

My heart squeezes with the message in this song, and Roarke hauls me onto the dance floor more fully, and we sway together. “I need you to know I’ve had tequila,” I warn as my feet feel unsteady, “but that’s your fault.”

His lips curve. “Like you going in the men’s bathroom?”

“Exactly,” I assure him, hyperaware of his hands on my body, but then I’ve always been hyperaware of this man touching me.

“I see,” he says. “All my fault.”

I give an incline of my chin. “All your fault.”

He gives my dress a once-over. “I like the costume.” His gaze lands low on my cleavage. “A little deep, isn’t it?”

“That’s your fault, too.”

His gaze lifts. “How is it my fault?”

“It just is.”

“All right, then. As long as I’m the only one enjoying the view, I’ll happily take credit for this one.”

My cheeks heat, as if he’s never flirted with me. “And what’s your costume supposed to be?”

“Horse Wrangler, of course.”

“You have no hat. A Horse Wrangler needs a proper hat.”

“A hat gets in between you and me. That doesn’t work for me.”

The song lifts in the air again, and he leans in and sings along with it in my ear. I can’t breathe, and every part of me is warm. He nuzzles my neck. “God, I missed you, Han.” His voice is low, rough, affected.

“I missed you, too,” I whisper, and when I pull back to look at him, I don’t have it in me to protect myself with Roarke. “Every day in some way.”

He strokes my hair behind my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “Me, too, baby. Me, too.”

The DJ comes on the microphone again, and the music cuts. “Now it’s time for a special song. One for Hannah, who is coordinating the Sweetwater Christmas festival. Happy birthday, Hannah. Let’s sing it to her, everyone!”

Suddenly, the entire room of hundreds of people is singing “Happy Birthday” to me, and I’m staring up at Roarke, fighting tears. He molds me close, kissing me, before he turns me toward the room to show me the giant cake being wheeled in. “Oh my God,” I whisper, looking over my shoulder at Roarke. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“Watch,” he says. “It gets better.”

Now I’m intrigued. I face forward and gasp as Martha pops out of the cake, seventy-plus years young, in a fairy costume with rainbow wings. I rush forward and hug her, only to have Ruth sideswipe me and pull me into a hug of her own. Jessica and Jason show up to the hug party as well, and when Roarke and I are handed plates with the cake Martha created for me, it doesn’t get any better than this. There’s a warmth between us that I’ve never experienced with anyone but him, just him. The music starts to play again, and this time the song is “Rumor” by Lee Brice.

I start singing the words, about a small town gossiping about a new couple, much like this town is gossiping about me and Roarke. Roarke leans in and whispers, “Let’s make the rumors true. Let’s get out of here.”

“Yes. Please.” My entire body heats just thinking about being alone and naked with this man, this time without any emotional barriers. He kisses me, a slow slide of his tongue before he laces the fingers of one of his hands with mine and leads me toward the door.

The minute we’re outside the party in the corridor, his arm is around my shoulders, pulling me in close to him. We don’t speak during the walk, but that’s the thing about me and Roarke; words aren’t always spoken, but they’re felt. We enter the elevator, and it’s no different. He holds me close, and we endure the crush of a full car. Roarke places me in front of him, that big, perfect body of his cradling mine. That’s the thing I can’t believe I forgot all those years ago. Roarke was always there to have my back, to hold me up, to support me.

When we’re finally on my floor, I hand him the key. He takes it, leans down, and brushes his lips over mine. He swipes the card and shoves the door open. I hesitate, but not with regret. With the sense that this is a new beginning, with the certainty that I will never be the same once I walk in this room. But then who am I fooling? The moment he kissed me the first time, it changed me. I was never the same. That’s the power this man has over me.