“No.”
“No?”
Hannah tilted her head. “Is there an echo in here?”
“On top of not knowing who this friend is, I don’t like the idea of you coming home at night to an empty house.” Immediately he looked remorseful and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry.”
She blew out a shaky breath before speaking. “It’s fine. Dogs don’t live forever, you knew that when I moved out here.” Something he’d been adamantly against, but having the dog had helped.
She loved her four brothers, and she wouldn’t say they suffocated her, though the hum of their hovering could be deafening at times. FBI, Special Forces, firefighter, cop. It was like her very own big-brother protection force. And every one of them liked to be in charge and in control. Especially Nick. If they knew she was going out with a man, let alone a man she didn’t know, they’d freak. Even if it was for their own good.
“I know how to lock a door.”
“I know you do.”
She met her brother’s worried eyes, and not for the first time thought what it must have been like for him at nineteen, suddenly responsible for four siblings. Then she thought of how much more she’d put him through. Put them all through.
If they were ever going to believe she was really okay, if she was going to believe it, she had to prove it. Time to push herself out of her comfort zone. For herself. For all of them.
Chapter 3
It was nearly five by the time Hannah drove through the woods from the barn to her house. Few people knew the tiny cabin even existed. Wild dogwoods had just begun spreading their leaves, filling in the space between the pines. Soon she wouldn’t be able to make out the barn from her porch at all. Surrounded. Hidden. The way she liked it.
Which made this whole meeting for drinks thing so far out of character, she didn’t recognize herself. But maybe that was the point. Maybe she needed a little different if she was ever going to be different.
She slid out and climbed the three wide steps to the porch and entered her wooded refuge alone. Funny how just the sound of an animal breathing, the thumping of a tail, and the clicks of doggy nails on wood floor could fill a home. It was dead quiet.
No dog on the shaggy rug under the oak coffee table. No one to shoo off the leather couch. The main room opened into the kitchen, leading her eyes straight to the silver bowls on the floor. She should empty them, put them away. But not yet.
She headed to the shower, trying not to picture Max, and instead pictured the handsome man who’d wanted to have dinner with her. She hadn’t felt her usual heart-racing panic. Not so much of the irrational fear she was working to overcome but hadn’t quite managed yet. Instead there’d been a flutter in her stomach, a heat and tingle when her small hand had slipped into his large one. Warm and gentle for such a big man.
She showered, replaying the rules her brothers had drilled into her over the years, assuring herself she wasn’t breaking any. She’d broken a rule twelve years ago and it had nearly ruined all their lives. She stepped out of the hot water, wrapped her hair tightly in a towel, and piled it on top of her head. The steam-covered mirror blocked her reflection, but still, she closed her eyes as she dried her body.
She didn’t feel the marks over a decade old, didn’t feel the crisscrossing pink and purple lines. She inhaled the scent of vanilla and lavender lotion and pretended just for a moment they weren’t there. That she was normal. Inside and out.
But she wasn’t, and they were there.
Her brothers thought they needed to remind her to be careful and cautious. They didn’t. All she had to do was look at herself. Ugly. Marked.
She knew what a knife could do. What a man could do. How he could strike and slice and break your body until he broke your soul.
After a short drive into town, Hannah stopped at the valet in front of Reno’s, heart pounding, damp palms gripping the steering wheel. Maybe she wasn’t ready. And she might have slipped right on through the parking lot and straight back home, but for the baby-faced attendant who opened her door and offered his hand.
Just inside the restaurant, one she’d only heard of in terms of how impossible it was to get a table, she was greeted by a pretty little hostess in a black, knee-length cocktail dress. “Good evening. Welcome to Reno’s.”
“Thank you.” She wiped her hands on her silky black pants. She didn’t own dresses, so this and a flowing top would have to do. Zach bought her clothes for Christmas, or rather his current girlfriend helped him make online purchases. Rarely needed, but tonight she was grateful. She’d added sandals with tiny gems and for once left her hair down.
“A table?”
“I’m um…meeting someone, but I…” She looked past the girl into the elegant bar area.
“Mr. McKinney?”
“What?”
“You’re meeting Stephen McKinney?”
How could she know that? Had Stephen told her? Described her? “Yes. I am.”
“He’s waiting at the bar. Just through there.” She gestured with her hand. “Or I can get him if you’d like.”
So he came here often enough to be known. And the woman in front of her looked all too eager to get him herself. Probably not a murderer then. Probably. “No. I’ll find him. Thank you.”
Excitement warred with nervous energy as she moved into the darkened space. Delicate glasses clinked among conversations and laughter, soft light and shiny people. Heads turned, casually taking in the stranger entering their midst.