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Something about her utter solitude as she ate her soup and scribbled in her worn book had called to me in a way I didn’t quite understand. I hadn’t dated in a long time. Not all that long ago in the scheme of things, but a lifetime when considering how many nights I’d gone to sleep with only paperwork for company.
I was married to my job. Trying to save the company my grandfather had built from nothing took almost all of my time. What was left I gave to Lily and my grandmother.
Not enough was left, to be honest, and it was probably irresponsible of me to even consider taking this night for myself.
For myself and for Hannah, who seemed just as desperate for a night away from reality as I was.
Gran would understand. She always encouraged me to try those dating apps or hell, even to just go to a bar and see what happened. Her mindset was much more freewheeling than my own. The idea of meeting a stranger at a bar was beyond my scope.
What do you think this is? You think meeting her in the restaurant of a bed and breakfast makes it much different?
Not hardly.
Hannah was still staring at me, not moving, waiting for me to reply to her statement about getting the champagne to go.
Fuck, did I even have any condoms in my wallet? I wasn’t prepared for this.
For her.
“We can get a bottle sent to our room.” I cleared my throat. “They have gorgeous ones here—”
“They may be booked. It’s a holiday, and this isn’t exactly a by-the-hour motel.” She spoke directly, without the hint of a blush tingeing her features.
I liked that about her. She didn’t beat around the bush. So to speak.
Jesus, I was so out of my dept
h here.
Shrewd, clever, driven Asher Wainwright never made a misstep. If he fucked up, he damn well never admitted defeat. But that was just one side of me. My public persona. The guy underneath, who was still flailing at becoming a parent without going through the steps to get there, who had to figure out a whole new life as well as be responsible for one—that Asher was a few drinks away from getting so blitzed he didn’t get up for a day. Or a week.
A month.
So, I couldn’t let myself take that tumble. The only one I was allowed was this brief slice of time with beautiful, straightforward Hannah.
“I’ll speak to Sage.” I was already removing my wallet. I gripped the platinum American Express card as Hannah reached out to still my hand.
“She’ll know. This isn’t a booty call sort of place.”
I had to smile. The term was ridiculous when it came to me and my lifestyle. “We don’t have to do anything but talk.” Even as I said it, I watched the furrow of her brows and the way her lips tightened in lieu of a smile.
I was still working on earning one. I hadn’t gotten there yet.
She released my hand and sat back, crossing her arms over the soft swell of her belly. She was curvy in all the right places, and her deep green dress had a V-neck that drew my eyes right to her breasts. I’d tried repeatedly to keep my gaze above her neck, but she was seriously stacked. Her little cardigan covered her arms and not much else, only serving to draw more attention to her cleavage.
Talk? She nearly rendered me fucking speechless.
“Do you live nearby?” She shifted to unhook her bag from the back of her chair. “Perhaps that is more—”
“No.” My voice came out sharper than I’d intended. “Visiting my grandmother, remember? I live in Syracuse.”
It was sterling truth. My grandmother wouldn’t mind if I brought Hannah over. In fact, she’d probably be pleased as could be if we got naked right there on the living room floor. She worried far too much about my lack of a social life.
But Lily was also there, and I didn’t want to explain. Especially not to someone who was just passing through. It wasn’t as if Hannah and I would be anything to each other after tonight. I had no time for a woman. My days were filled with work, and my nights were full of Lily.
And figuring out how to bathe a baby without blinding her with harsh soaps or scarring her with water that wasn’t the proper mix of warm and cool. And choosing a formula that didn’t upset her delicate stomach. And on and on.
Father failure for five hundred, Alex.
