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“What is it this time?” Hannah asked, hoping it was just a drunk-and-disorderly and not something more serious, like a DUI or an assault.
“Intoxicated in public.”
Thank God.
“He’s sleeping it off in the drunk tank. You can come get him if you want, but he’s welcome to stay until morning.”
Stay in the cell? Wouldn’t be the first time. Yet Hannah always went running to clean up her dad’s messes. But she couldn’t leave the bar, and she had no desire to go get him when he was passed out wasted. He was safe in the cell for now.
“I’ll swing by after I close up the bar tonight,” she said. That mental list of hers was getting longer, and the pain in her neck throbbed harder.
“No problem. He’s the only one here, so he has the cell bed to himself.”
“Ooh, the local jail cell is going to get a five-star rating this week.”
Gabe laughed. “We serve, protect, and accommodate when we can.”
Hannah smiled, but her chest was hollow. Deep down, she knew a big reason she’d never leave Yachats was because she had to make sure her dad was okay. He was little more than useless, but he was her dad. The only family she had. And she didn’t want him to die
or to hurt others. Since her mom had left when she was five, there had always been a sadness surrounding him, and Hannah could never break ties with him. It didn’t make it right or okay. Made it fucking pathetic, and she kind of hated herself for it. But she couldn’t leave him.
Maybe that’s why she worked so hard to make herself untouchable. Maybe she’d think about that later. Or never. Because the minute someone started touching . . .
She shook her head. Something she’d done more in the last several months, every time that sunshine and warmth she’d felt once in her life started creeping in to remind her of a happy moment.
She hung up with Gabe and looked around. The bar was getting ready to pick up, Friday day turning into Friday night. And that’s what she’d focus on. What she always focused on. Perfecting her untouchable persona and taking care of her bar. Yes. It would be her bar. Any day now.
She bent behind the counter just as she heard the door open and slam shut. A constant flow of people coming in was good for business. Which was why she was searching her lower cabinet for the reserve Jack Daniel’s to put on the shelf.
“Excuse me?” a sexy, husky voice asked from behind her. “I’m looking for someone.”
Hannah shook her head and didn’t bother turning around. Still squatting and reaching back behind the vodka, she finally found the Jack Daniel’s.
“Well, good luck with your search. Anyone you see in here is what you get.”
She stood with the bottle in hand.
“I sure hope that’s true,” the sexy voice replied, “because I’m looking for my wife.”
His words cut the air and hit her entire body like a blow, causing her hand to slip. The bottle dropped and shattered on the floor.
She turned slowly and saw him.
Him.
The one man she’d tried to forget over the past six months. The one man who’d ever gotten close enough to make her feel like more than trash. The one man who’d gotten her to say I do.
“Grant Laythem,” she whispered.
His eyes were fastened to her face. Those same green eyes she remembered—clearer than the ocean she’d fallen in love with him on.
He smiled, but there was something very dark behind it. “Hello, Mrs. Laythem.”
Hannah’s skin flushed hot, and she felt the instant need to run . . . she just couldn’t decide if the direction was away—or straight into his arms.
Grant had always thought God to be the cold, vengeful kind. But when he stood there, faced with his wife, her beauty about knocked him on his ass. And for the first time in a long time, Grant thought God was throwing him a bone. Or a flare of torture, because while he was finally standing face-to-face with the woman who’d stolen his heart then sneaked off in the middle of the night with it, he couldn’t touch her.
She was right there. Right in front of him.
