Page 289 of Ruthless Court

“Try to behave.”

“No promises.”

Her eyebrows rise.

I amend it.

“Fine. One promise.”

“What?”

I look toward the bookstore.

The mismatched chairs.

The coffee bar.

The shelves climbing toward the ceiling.

Then back at her.

“Tonight has nothing to do with basketball.”

Something in her face softens.

Not all the way.

Enough.

“Okay,” she says.

I hold out my hand.

Not touching.

Offering.

Hannah looks at it.

Then at me.

And places her fingers in mine.

“Okay.”

For the first time since I met her, I don’t feel like I’m chasing Hannah Goodwin.

She came to me.

* * *

Chapter 17

Kane

The first guy reads a poem about his ex-girlfriend’s sourdough starter.

I spend the first thirty seconds trying to figure out whether it’s a metaphor.