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Oh God.
I die a thousand deaths when her eyes pass between Hannah and me, her lips pressed together. I straighten. Roll my shoulders. Cough my throat clear. And poor Hannah stands frozen on the spot, looking as guilty as she is.
‘You two are fools.’ Alex sighs, turning and looking out the door again. ‘Mum’s heading this way.’
That quickly snaps me back to life. ‘What?’
‘Mum.’ Alex points down the street and quickly shuts the door. ‘She’s heading this way.’ She guides Hannah to a stool, helping her down. ‘Just look busy.’ Then she turns to me. ‘Go hide!’ she snaps, and I dash out the back quickly as ordered. It’s only when I come to a stop in Hannah’s kitchen that I wonder why the fuck I’m here. I don’t have time to go ask.
The door opens, and I hear Darcy. ‘Alexandra, darling!’
‘Mother!’ My girl’s way of talking changes in an instant. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was passing on my way to the post office and saw you come in.’
‘I’m just chewing the fat with Hannah.’
‘You’re what?’
‘Chatting.’
‘Oh, I see. Nice to meet you, Hannah.’
‘And you!’ Hannah practically shrieks. I sag against the wall, done for the day. Why the hell did Alex want me to hide? What’s my life got to do with Darcy, anyway? It’s none of her business who I date. Date? I smile, wide and satisfied, as I stand like a fool listening to my daughter make small talk with her mother. And the whole time, I’m wondering what the hell Hannah must be making of this. My crafty daughter. Her unbearable mother. The poor thing didn’t bargain for this.
When I hear Darcy say her goodbyes, I peek around the door, and the look on Hannah’s face says it all. She’s wondering where the world went wrong. I give her a nervous smile, and she rolls her eyes going to the checkout.
‘Seriously, you guys,’ Alex mutters, jumping down from her stool. And she leaves. With that statement in the air, she just leaves, and I’m suddenly worried that, actually, she doesn’t approve.
‘You slept with her?’ Hannah asks, throwing her arm out toward the door once Alex has gone.
I should have expected it, I suppose. ‘You mean, she’s all well turned out and perfect, and I’m not, right? The princess with the pauper. The lady with the tramp.’
Hannah withdraws, horrified. ‘No, I didn’t mean that,’ she says quietly. I take no pleasure from her apparent remorse. ‘She’s awful, Ryan. And I feel terrible for saying that because she’s Alex’s mother, but, seriously, who does she think she is, looking at me like I’m dirt on her Manolo Blahniks? Who wears Manolos around here, anyway?’
‘What the hell are Milano Blankets?’ The look that fires my way is a mixture between surprise and . . . something I can’t quite read. She waves a dismissive hand at me, and I shrug, because I have nothing else.
‘That was Darcy Hampton,’ I say, exasperated. But back to more important matters . . . ‘When can I see you again?’ I know this really rides on me. I need to have the conversation with Alex. Get it all out in the open. Move forward. I’m actually excited for that. Or am I? I glance back at the door, remembering Alex’s final words.
‘You tell me,’ Hannah retorts on a pout. Those lips. Magnets. I’m pulled closer, first slowly, but the nearer I get, the more powerful the pull, and I’m soon breathing down on her. Slipping my hand around her back, I haul her close and steal a kiss, making it deep and hard. She’s immediately mine, soft in my hold, a puppet to the passion. God, she’s like a drop of heaven.
I release her, though it’s a task. ‘I will.’ I walk away, pulling the door open. ‘Just as soon as I’ve broken the surprise news to Alex.’
‘I don’t think she’s going to be shocked.’ Hannah’s out of breath, her words ragged. She’s dazed.
I smile and leave her to gather herself, feeling the lightest I’ve felt in years. The past few days have been completely wasted, our wires getting all crossed. Now that they’re untangled and we’re both clear, it’s time to move this thing along. Maybe I’ll cook Hannah dinner. Maybe we’ll have a date in the bath. Yes, with candles and all that mushy stuff. Hannah deserves that. I frown to myself. Ryan the romantic? Well, that’s one I haven’t been called before. I can do romance.
Alex is leaning against the truck when I make it there, her eyebrows high. ‘We need to talk,’ I say, getting in the driver’s seat, starting as I mean to go on. Positive. Determined. Confident.
‘No shit, Sherlock,’ she replies, hopping in the other side.
I growl at her. ‘I’ll wash your mouth out with soap if I hear another curse word from you.’
