Page 6

“What kind of look is that?”

Jett didn’t answer right away. Just kept glaring at me. He was leaner but had a couple inches on me. I knew I could take him if he wanted to take a swing, not that I’d let things get to that point. “Okay. I get it. Sixteen years is a long time. But it’s not like we didn’t stay in touch. Remember the time we were both in Paris? Man, we got shit-faced, huh? Told some secrets, had a few laughs? Well, maybe not all my secrets.” I blew out a long breath. Jett was not making this easy on me.

“A few drinks and chasing women eight years ago still doesn’t tell me why you were practically undressing my sister in the deli the other day. And just because we’re friends, and that you’re some undercover hero does not mean you get a free pass. She told me nothing went on between you back in high school, but that look said differently.”

When did Hannah talk to Jett about me? “What did she tell you?” Fuck, that sounded pathetic, desperate and way too eager. “I mean, she’s right. Nothing ever happened between us. I kept my feelings and my hands to myself, Jett. Our friendship meant too much.”

Jett’s arms dropped, and he pushed his body off the wall. Another long stare, but he made no move to punch me out. Instead, his lips quirked. “I knew it. You had it bad for her, didn’t you? It explains everything. Not that I didn’t appreciate your restraint, but damn, you could be brutal at times.”

I had been. The way I treated Hannah has been the biggest regret of my life. “I was, but now⁠—”

“But now you’re back, and what, you planning on making a move on her? You think she’s going to forgive you and just let you woo her like in one of those Hallmark movies?” Jett raised both eyebrows, waiting. Daring me to explain myself.

Man, he wasn’t that far off.

But I had no intention of playing out some G-rated rom-com with Hannah. No, my plans for her, for us, were definitely in the mature rating category, closer to NC-17. I’d spent too many nights dreaming of ways to worship her body, to prove how much I’d always craved her.

Not that I would ever say that to her brother. I liked my nose exactly where it was.

“So, I’m guessing your silence means you’re not denying it, then? That’s good, but what’s your next move? You here to ask my permission?”

Did he really just ask me that? “Yeah, no. I wanted to explain my feelings and, hell, just give you a heads up so that you don’t beat my ass when you find out.”

Jett laughed. “Yeah, well before you go all Romeo on her. You need to apologize. For everything. Although I’m not sure that it’ll do you any good. Hannah doesn’t forgive easily, and she’s damn picky when it comes to letting a man into her life. Wonder why that is?”

Jett always knew how to wind me up. But I wasn’t intimidated. I knew the odds were against me. But I had to try. Hannah would be worth the effort. All I needed was for her to give me a chance.

“I plan on doing just that. And as crazy as it sounds, it’s always been Hannah for me. I can’t explain it any other way. And I’m headed over to her studio next. I’ll need to reschedule that tattoo, okay?” Before I could grab my jacket, Jett stepped forward and wrapped me up in a hug. Not the reaction I really expected, but I’d take it.

Then, Jett thumped me hard on the back and whispered loudly into my ear, “You hurt her. You know I’ll beat that pretty face to a pulp, right?”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” Relieved, I grinned and held out my right hand. I wasn’t the least surprised when he batted it away and hugged me again.

“Glad you're home, Ross. Don’t fuck it up.”

CHAPTER 6

HANNAH

I stomped my snow boots and shook snowflakes out of my hair before I walked into my studio. My studio. I was still getting used to those two simple words. The sense of anticipation I’d felt when the realtor had shown me the rundown warehouse two years ago now filled me every time I entered my new space.

The natural light pouring in through the large windows that encircled the entire first floor was perfect. The building had practically been begging for an artist to come along after sitting vacant for too many years.

Today, though, the light was a muted gray as it filtered through the heavy clouds that had been dropping lazy, fat snowflakes all morning. But even so, the space felt warm and welcoming. I was hoping to carve out time in the next week to finally decorate it for Christmas.

Maybe a tree or two placed strategically since there was still a ton of work to do on the second floor. But for now, I was satisfied with the main space, its new windows, reconfigured walls that created separate spaces I’d rent out to other artists and all new interior paint. The original cement floors had been rehabbed and finished in an amber glaze. Large rugs were scattered throughout to help with the acoustics.

I had a potential tenant coming in today to sign a rental contract for one of the new mini studios. I’d advertised specifically to attract fellow creators. Artists who found it hard to find a place to produce their art without paying through the nose for it.

It was exciting to offer the shared workspace concept. And from there, I wanted to offer classes, art shows, and who knew what else to the public. I’d met plenty of people who’d been unable to pursue their craft because they also had to work so they could live, but maybe now because they were older or starting over, like Ross...

Dammit, I stumbled to a complete stop as his face flashed in my mind’s eye. Followed quickly by a warm flushing sensation from head to toe. So similar to what I’d felt just days ago at Evergran’s Grill when his narrowed gaze lazily roamed my body, then my face, before landing on my lips, robbing me of my breath.

Shit.

Stupid, overactive imagination. I shook my head as if that simple act would banish Ross from my thoughts. As if it would make me forget his soul-penetrating stare, his tall, masculine form that had become more defined and muscular in the years since I last saw him.

Gah! Why was I still thinking about him? It’s not like anything was going to happen between us. He’d probably already forgotten about me, just like he did when he’d left Pineville all those years ago. My plate was full, and I had to focus on my business, not moon over long-ago hopes.