When the pasta was ready, they sat across from each other at her small table. Always ready for a meal, he poised his fork to dig in.
Hannah raised a hand to her forehead, beginning the sign of the cross. Crap. He dropped his fork and joined her, thinking his mother would probably cry if she knew how long it had been since he’d done that. Or that the only mention of God from his usual companions was in direct praise of his performance.
“It’s good,” he finally managed after inhaling several bites. “Really good.”
“Thanks. My brother taught me to cook, so…I always wonder if it just tastes good to me or…” She shrugged. “Probably not as good as your mom’s.”
“Another casualty of being raised by wolves?”
She took a bite and smiled.
“Honestly, it’s better, though I’ll deny that if you tell her I said so.” He watched her eat, more at ease than she’d been the last time they’d sat across from each other. Progress.
Progress toward what? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he felt good when he was around her. And until he’d met her, he hadn’t realized how much he needed to feel good. He’d be perfectly happy just to sit here all night and watch her eat. The way she cut her spaghetti into small pieces instead of twirling, the way she smiled at him across the table, just being Hannah.
“So why do you think they didn’t have a will drawn up?”
“They weren’t really the kind of people who thought about paperwork. They were more about animals and hard labor. Simple. And they lived a simple life.”
“And you like that kind of life too.”
“I do.” She pushed her spaghetti around her plate. “I’d be happy to never go anywhere. I hardly ever do. I’m happiest on a horse.”
He could see that. And most comfortable.
“What about you? Where are you happiest?”
“At work.” His answer came easily, instinctively, though maybe not as true as it once was. They finished and he helped her with the dishes, him washing, her drying.
“Well, that was fun,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel.
She narrowed her eyes. “A playboy who likes doing dishes?”
“Playboy?” He slipped his arms around her back, trying hard not to think about how perfect it felt. How perfect she felt. “Who says I’m a playboy?”
“Um…” She looked like she wanted to backtrack. “Magazines. People.”
So she did know. “Your brothers?”
“Maybe.”
“And what about you? What do you say?”
“I say I wouldn’t know.”
“Do I look like a playboy?”
“Uh, yeah.”
She gave him such a duh look, he had to laugh. “You’re sweet. You know that?” Too sweet for a playboy like him, but he wasn’t leaving. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.”
“Done what?”
“Had a woman cook for me. Eaten in her house.” He brought a lock of hair over her shoulder, the back of his hand grazing her chest as he rubbed the strands between his fingers.
“What do you usually do at a woman’s house?”
Realization dawned and the tension in the room returned tenfold.
“Hannah. Have you ever had a man over for dinner?”
“No. I mean…my brothers come over a lot.”
“So if they found me here, they’d probably kill me, huh?”
Her eyes went wide at the thought. Probably because it was entirely possible, but he laughed. “Don’t worry. I can hold my own.” And then some. “Plus, it would be totally worth it.”
Their eyes caught and held until she moved to turn away. He made a grab for her hand and gently pulled her back. She blinked up at him as he brushed his thumb slowly along the inside of her wrist. She had no idea what her pressing her teeth into that sexy lip did to him. The way her quick breaths made her chest rise and fall. So many women worked to get his attention and this one didn’t even have to try, didn’t know what to do with it when she did.
Her eyes darted past him into the next room. “I’m just…I’m not sure…”
“What to do next? I’ll show you.” He pulled her over to the couch, sat, and snagged the remote. “Sit.” He patted the spot next to him and propped his feet on the table. “Come on. Trust me.”
She obeyed, leaving way too much space between them.
“Closer.”
She scooted. Still not close enough but he’d get there, though he’d never worked quite this hard. Much to the dismay of his dick, he kinda liked it. “There you go. Feet up. Now I put my arm around you and we cruise channels.”
“We watch TV?”
“Nah. This is just a ruse to sit close to you.” He sank down and got more comfortable. “I like this couch. It’s kind of a guy couch.”
“My brothers bought it.”
He would zero in on a girl with an army of brothers. He had a flash of himself and Andrew sitting in the back of his truck, waiting to warn off Lizzy’s dates. Payback was a bitch. “So where are your brothers tonight?”
“Nick’s working. He’s an FBI agent.”
It just got better and better.
“Zach’s on call at the fire station, and Luke…I’m not sure.”
“And the fourth brother?”