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‘I’ll stay tomorrow.’ She heads inside to say her goodbyes to Alex and Charlotte, leaving me all alone, urgently rummaging through my mind for a plausible reason for her to stay. By the time she’s back, I have nothing other than I simply want her to. Is that enough?
Going to her bike, she kicks that stand up. ‘You’re not riding that home,’ I bark abruptly, and she stills, her hands on the bars ready to get into the saddle. She regards me carefully, and I can tell she’s assessing me, seeing if this is a fight she’ll win. She won’t. I’m digging my boots in.
‘Then I’ll walk.’
I laugh. ‘You’re not walking, Hannah.’
‘So I can’t walk, you won’t let me go on my bike.’ She kicks the stand back down and squares me with a look of challenge that I quite like.
‘Can’t you just stay?’ I ask. It makes sense.
On a dramatic sigh, she takes a beat and a few breaths. ‘It’s not fair to Alex. I already feel like I’ve bulldozed into her life. She needs her time with you, too. She needs to know I’m not here to steal all your attention.’
Though I’m very aware that she’s one hundred percent right, I can’t help feeling like there’s something more to it. Like me and my big foot in my mouth when I took a century to answer a question that obviously meant a lot to her. But damn, she caught me off guard. And now she’s leaving.
Reluctantly, I give in. I never want to force anything on her. ‘I’ll drive you,’ I say, walking backward to the cabin. ‘Just give me a second.’
‘You’ve been drinking.’
‘I’ve had two beers since you arrived,’ I assure her. It’s not a lie. ‘Wait there.’
I run inside to find Jake. ‘I’m just going to run Hannah home. You mind if I leave Alex with you?’ At that very moment, I hear rip-roaring laughter, and both Jake and I turn to see the girls rolling around on the rug in front of the television.
‘I might go join them,’ Jake chuckles, slapping me on the shoulder. ‘See you in a bit.’
‘Thanks, mate.’ I snag my keys off the side, stuff my phone in my back pocket, and leave Jake and the girls behind belly laughing at The Goonies.
When I make it back outside, Hannah has taken the initiative to get in my truck without the need for me to physically put her in there. I hop in and reverse past Jake’s Range Rover as she tugs on her seat belt and settles in. And quiet falls.
It remains silent the whole five-minute drive to her shop, and no matter how deep I dig into the corners of my mind, I can’t find anything to say. Actually, that’s a lie. I have loads to say, I just haven’t the fucking courage. A few times, I breathe in, intending to broach the subject we touched on earlier, wanting to clear the air. But each time I go to speak, I hear Hannah either swallow, breathe in, or shift in her seat, and I’m left wondering whether she’s sensed my intention to talk and is telling me in her own little way not to. Where does that leave me?
When I pull up outside her shop, I’m about ready to declare my insanity, my head set to explode. I can’t bear this tension. The past few days have been complete and utter easy bliss. Now it’s hellish. I have to sort it.
She opens the door. ‘Hannah.’ I reach across and grab her arm. ‘Wait a minute.’
Motionless for a moment, her wrist caught in my grasp, she gathers what strength she needs to face me. And the second she does, my words get caught up on my tongue and I find myself just staring at her. My fix-it speech is drowned out by clarity as I take her in, every inch of her. She’s still wearing my sweater, and she looks magnificent in it, no matter that it’s drowning her. Her clean skin, her haphazard hair, her clear eyes. Every part of Hannah Bright is breathtaking, and my breath is seriously taken right now. She has a good soul. She’s a free spirit and so kindhearted. All that matters to her is being happy and doing what she loves. She’s a breath of fresh air.
My reality has hit me. Or more like punched me full-force in the face. I love her. I’m madly in love with her. This delicate, multifaceted woman has stolen my heart. Or taken it, because I haven’t once tried to stop her. What I need to know now is, does she realize what she’s done to me? And is there any chance she could feel the same?
I gulp down my apprehension. Just the fact that I’m not sure worries me. Each time I feel like I really know her, something happens to remind me that I don’t at all. And now I’ve had this revelation, all I keep thinking is . . . she doesn’t plan on staying in Hampton.
