Chapter Thirty-Two

Hannah

 

Confidence.

That was how he was different. I only saw it in contrast, but the Mike before July 7^th had an underlying desperation to be liked and loved. My Lust Bunny aggression hadn’t been a response to him playing hard to get…

I’d dominated him. I pushed because I wanted him to let go and step up and meet me half way. Or take charge.

The pursuit was hot.

My previous relationships were so…there. We met, we liked each other, went out, the guy usually choosing when and where. Zero passion, in hindsight. They never made me mad.

I’d never been in love until Mike.

What did I do with that now?

At 5:05PM, he texted me an address. I agreed on the restaurant.

He suggested six. I countered with seven. He agreed.

Twenty-four hours to drive myself nuts.

 

****

September 5^th

My dreams were…intense. After waking up suddenly three times, I gave up and reached for my vibrator. Trying for a quickie so I could sleep wasn’t satisfying, so I slowed down, closed my eyes, and imagined his touch continuing from the moment the dog interrupted us. How would he have played with my nipples? What would he do with my clit when I was naked? Missionary, or pull me up on my knees and take me from behind?

Would we cuddle at the end?

Yeah. That last one I knew.

Caught up more in the fantasy than what my body was doing, the orgasm surprised me and I cried out. I was normally quiet by myself. Finally, I felt relaxed, and went to sleep naked.

My 7:30 alarm was startling. No idea what time it was when I got real rest.

Groaning, I shuffled to the shower. With no energy for making breakfast, I grabbed a muffin to nibble on the road, knowing I could raid the fridge for an apple or something at work.

Mrs. Lindsey didn’t mind if I ate cereal at my desk.

Didn’t even bother with the hairdryer, just slicked my hair back in a bun and put on a cotton shirtdress that wouldn’t be completely stifling in the summer heat. Then nothing went right this morning. I poked my eye with the mascara wand, almost left the house without locking it, had to go back for my phone, then there was an accident that made traffic a total bitch. Despite leaving thirty minutes early to get to the compound, I was still fifteen late.

Mrs. Lindsey was at the big printer cutting a photo print.

“Sorry! Sorry!” I slid into my seat and typed my password.

“It’s okay. It’s the first time you’re late. If it happens again, call me.”

“You’re not mad?”

She shook her head. “Life happens. I’m the mom of a toddler, I know. Besides, does this look like a stuffy office? I work in jeans and t-shirts and there’s a basket of toys in the corner. Relax, Hannah. Go grab a cup of coffee.”

“Thanks.”

Everybody drank coffee except Beth, so there was always a carafe in the kitchen. Maria made it every morning. I filled my you can never have too much yarn mug to the brim, sipped, then added sugar. Gulped down a sweet cup and refilled, hoping the caffeine would make me feel human. At least clear the cobwebs.

Mrs. Lindsey didn’t need me for eight hours/day, but she never made it feel like charity. I gave her a second set of hands when she needed, kept her calendar, ordered supplies, and answered the phone. Occasionally, she’d sent me on a brief errand. It was a lot easier than my last job. Sometimes I had to make up stuff to do.

“Cute dress, by the way,” she said when I returned. “I kept telling you the corporate uniform wasn’t necessary, so I’m glad you finally listened.”

“Thanks.” She’d never know I grabbed this because I was running late. “I made it.”

“You sew? That’s cool.”

“Thanks. Yeah. I made the fabric, too.”

She paused framing the print to come closer. “Seriously?”

I shrugged. “It’s a simple weave of cotton. I did it in college.”

“Wow. I’m so not crafty. You are way too talented for corporate life.”

“I don’t know about that…”

“Mikey mentioned once that you knit.”

“Yep.”

“Did you make all the dresses you wore to the parties?”

I thought back. “Probably. Sewing really isn’t that hard. You just follow the pattern.”

“Did you make your swimsuit, too? Celeste loved it.”

“Really? ‘Cause she wore—”

Beth nodded. “She brought it up. I know, she likes to show off for Bob, but she likes the retro glam look, too. She’d totally pay you to make one for her.”

“Oh.” Really? Huh. “I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen, so I made stuff out of necessity. That job was the first time I’d shopped for clothes in years.” Still wore jeans and stuff from high school, and made everything else. It had felt like such an accomplishment to buy a grown-up wardrobe for a grown-up job.

“I’m sorry they were assholes. It sucks to get fired.”

“Yep. First time that happened, too.” I got my first part-time job at fifteen and employers had always loved my dependability. “I still don’t get how it happened.”

“Well, their loss is my gain.” She squeezed my shoulders in a one-arm hug. “I used to be an executive assistant.”

“Really?”

“Overworked and underpaid, living in a crap apartment trying to do everything on my own. Probably still be there if Jacob hadn’t offered me a job.”

“He did?”

She sat on the edge of my desk. “We ran into each other late one night when I looked and felt like crap and he took pity on me. He’ll tell it differently, but he gave me a business card and said he needed a personal assistant to get him to appointments on time. We weren’t on good terms then, but he offered to double my salary. I figured I could put up with anything if it got me out of that apartment.”

“Then you fell in love?”

She laughed. “Deep down, we’d never not been, but no, it was awful. He was the typical spoiled rock star and I was carrying a lot of baggage from the past. It wasn’t until my car accident four years ago that we had a chance to heal and reconnect. Long-story short, I know about struggles and opportunities. It’s okay if you’re looking for other jobs, but I’d be sorry to see you go.”

“Already? It’s only been eight days.”

She shrugged. “When someone fits into the family, we like to keep them around.” Then she went back to the frame. “Okay, I need to finish this so it can be shipped to the client.”

The rest of the morning happened in the normal I’d come to know. Since I was hired to give her more time with family, I was left alone a lot. Definitely preferable to Marcy’s gossip (who I hadn’t heard from or seen since the day I was fired), though there were stretches where I ran out of stuff to do. I wondered if Mrs. Lindsey would mind me bringing a project to knit or crochet between tasks. After her admiration for my crafting skills, I wasn’t entirely afraid to ask.

But maybe not today.

I took lunch at one and expected Mike to be outside, but there was only a delivery guy at the gate. “Hannah?”

“That’s me.”

“Sign here.” I did. “Thanks.” He handed me a box and drove away.

I carried it back to the office, curious and confused. No deliveries had been scheduled for this afternoon. When I opened the box, I was shocked—and touched.

One bouquet of roses, one lunch in a bento box, with a note card between them.

Can’t wait to see you tonight.

At least this part of Mike was familiar, and I was starving. I found water for the roses, then dove into lunch. There was no restaurant label, but whoever made it was awesome.

Totally made up for my frazzled morning.

When Mrs. Lindsey returned to use the dark room, she smiled at my flowers. “I assume I don’t have to ask who those are from.”

Mildly blushing, I said, “No…”

“Good.” Then she locked herself in the bedroom that housed her photo chemicals.

Were they all rooting for us? That was a bit of pressure. There was no guarantee a second try would go any better than our first, and I liked these people.

I wanted to stay fifteen minutes late to make up my time, but she shooed me out at 5:00. “Go have fun.” And locked me out of the office.

Seatbelted the roses, hoping it would hold them upright, and hurried home. I’d been mentally shuffling through my wardrobe all day and still didn’t know what to wear. He’d picked a nice restaurant, so that clued me in on dress code, but how sexy should I be on a first date?

I texted Jen: I have a date and I don’t know what to wear!

A full minute later: New guy?

No.

Ohhh. Wear a dress and shave your legs.

Haha. Of course I’m wearing a dress to this restaurant. How much cleavage?

Stop over-thinking it. Pick according to how much you want to get laid. Speaking of which, Dylan is here. Bye!

She was right, of course. I was nervous, more nervous than I’d ever been with him. Despite all the making out, I didn’t know what I wanted from him tonight. There was baggage. He hurt me. I probably hurt him. It had only been two months.

Maybe this time, I’d be the one to say go slow.

Or I could just get to the restaurant and see what he had to say.

I did make sure I was driving myself. I had an out.

So, I put some subtle curves in my hair, refreshed my makeup, and chose a dress that was nice but demure. Earrings, pendant, purse, and nothing left but to leave. With shoes on.

Oh God.

My stomach had butterflies. I didn’t know if I’d be able to eat.

Mike had chosen a steakhouse with nicer versions of food we both liked. With his travels, he must’ve tried some of everything, but he was still a Midwest boy at heart, and I grew up in coffee shops. If he wasn’t trying to impress me, burgers and fries would’ve been fine. Better on my nerves, even. Nice place signaled this is a date in neon letters in my brain.

I spotted him talking to the hostess, and it was the first time seeing him in a dress shirt and slacks. Gosh, he cleaned up nice. I stood there breathing, waiting to see how long it took for him to sense me and send the butterflies tumbling again.

“Hannah.” Beaming. Almost too happy to see me—had he worried I wouldn’t show?

“Hi.”

“The table is ready.”

“Okay.”

The hostess grabbed two menus and led us into the dining room past several tables to a booth in the back. Like most steakhouses, the lighting was subdued. This place had a little oil lamp between two bud vases as table centerpieces. White table cloths. Nice, but not stuffy. Mike waited for me to slide into a side before seating himself.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

The hostess pointed out the specials and asked for drink orders. I wanted water, and Mike asked for the same. He normally had a beer with dinner, so that was a first.

Staring at the menu, I discarded opening topics like have you heard from your brother and is Aaron still part of the group, and finally settled on “Did you have a nice birthday?”

“I did. Rusty loves the movie.”

“He does?”

“He howls with a couple of the songs. The breeder warned me they have a musical house.”

I chuckled. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, right now it’s a baby howl, so it’s cute. I should probably discourage him so the neighbors don’t hate me later, though.”

“Is he your first dog?”

“Nah, we had one when I was a kid. Passed from old age while I was at college.”

“Aww.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t that attached. It was Mom’s dog.”

“Is she still babying your bro—no, let’s not talk about that tonight. Did you make any other changes since two months ago?”

A nod. “Teaching piano twice a week. Volunteer thing.”

“That’s great. For kids?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, looking proud of the work. “You know, most of them could never afford lessons and I’ve had plenty of time on my hands. It’s good on both sides. What about you?”

A waitress walked by and he waved her on.

“I still meet with the old ladies. They’re scandalous. It’s awesome. You know about the job. Everything else is the same.”

“Animal Planet on Fridays.”

“Yep. How is the album?”

“We’re negotiating song choices with the label. Jake will probably get his way. Then production, then a release date and scheduling the tour.”

The waitress looked over again. “I suppose we should order,” I said.

“Anything you like.”

I picked something easy to warm up tomorrow if I couldn’t eat much. He chose surf and turf. The waitress hurried off. She wasn’t earning much of a tip so far.

We’d get at least ten minutes of peace with the kitchen cooking our food. “Is recording your final versions a complicated process?” Music was a safe topic.

He sat back, getting comfortable. “Not necessarily complicated, but a lot of layers. For some bands it is. Considering the last album was overproduced, Jake wants this one stripped to the essentials.”

“Does that mean acoustic?”

“No, by strict definition acoustic music is produced without electrical amplification, without electric instruments. We’ve never done an album without electric guitar, but Jake has one song for Beth he performs on his acoustic with no accompaniment. Don’t know if it’ll make the album since she told him to stop singing it in public.”

My eyes widened. “Why?”

“It refers to a personal birthmark.”

“Oh. A sexy song.”

He smiled. “She’s a private person. He only submitted songs to the label she approved.”

“I guess he knows how to stay out of the dog house.”

Then laughed. “Most days. Finally.”

I nodded. “She’s mentioned there were some rough times.”

“They’ve seen each other at their best and their worst, but I’ve never seen them happier.”

“I guess happy ever after does exist for some people.”

He reached across the table for my hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Hannah.”

“Thank you for the flowers and lunch. I had a crazy morning and it was a nice surprise.”

“You’re welcome. You liked the food?”

“Definitely.”

“Good. I do know some ways to make you smile.”

“That was never a problem, Mike.”

A moment of silence passed between us.

The waitress brought my plate. “I’ll be back with yours in two minutes, sir.”

“Thank you.” When she was gone, he said, “Don’t wait on me.”

“I’m good. This is hot enough to burn a hole in my tongue.” And give me a steam facial.

“Can’t have that. I like your tongue how it is.”

I kicked his shoe. “Behave.”

He winked. My stomach fluttered, but not with butterflies. Oh boy.

Keep it light, keep it PG.

Thankfully, the waitress brought his plate then. He ate with gusto; I managed enough to not have him ask if something was wrong. He ordered dessert and offered to share. I never turn down cheesecake. My hips will hate me, but that cool, creamy sweetness went down easier than the sensible chicken and roasted veggies sitting in the Styrofoam box.

“Man, that’s good.”

“I love seeing you happy,” he said quietly. My cheeks warmed. “How can I do that every day, Hannah? I’ve missed you so much.”

Whoa. We’re going there, huh? “I missed you, too.” Eyes on the cheesecake.

“Is it too soon to ask to see you tomorrow?”

“Are you not seeing me now?”

“Cute. If you want me to back off, I can take a hint.”

I sighed. “I don’t know what I want. This is kind of overwhelming. I was coping, then suddenly you’re here again and…”

“What?”

I shook my head. I didn’t know what came after and.

He withdrew. “It’s okay. I waited too long.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What do you want to say?”

“I want to go slow.”

He laughed. I laughed. We were back at the beginning.