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“She and Wyatt are in the back.” Tabitha pointed toward the door behind her, which led to a larger workspace that had a couple of lifts and lots of storage space, which Victor had told him about after he’d checked out Delaney’s ’33. “Working on a bike.”
Hobbs almost made a joke about that being a relief, but just then Sean pushed open the front door of the shop, bringing an icy wind with him. “Morning,” Sean said, his strides long and authoritative, despite his friendly smile. “How’s everyone today?” He wore jeans and boots and a sweatshirt that read All Caps, the letterl’s shaped like hockey sticks.
Everyone chorused good-mornings, but Hannah pressed herself closer to the counter, maybe getting as near to Tabitha as she could. Hobbs got it immediately, the fact that Hannah had been around the police many times growing up. They always looked a lot like Sean—strong, well-built, tidy hair, hard jaw, a glint in the eyes that indicated power and control. They were never at the house for good reasons, and Hobbs probably hadn’t given much thought, up until this moment, to what kind of memories that had made for a young girl. He’d only known what kind of memories the police had created for him, which was that his father had been violent again, and the cops were there to mitigate things, maybe take Pops away in handcuffs, maybe just talk him down, spray him with the garden hose and order him to sober up. Even though Hannah had met Sean at Thanksgiving, he’d only been there in the capacity of someone eating dinner. This time was different, and everything about Sean’s demeanor demonstrated that.
“We’re just going to have a friendly chat,” Sean said, like he sensed Hannah’s sudden nerves. He drew out a notepad and pen. “In fact, let’s pour some coffee first.” Sean set his pad down on the counter and went to the coffeepot Delaney had behind the counter. There was a stack of paper cups, turned upside down, next to the glass carafe. “Anyone?”
Hobbs and Tabitha shook their heads, but Hannah said, “I’ll have some.”
Hobbs had never seen Hannah drink anything but tea, but he bit his tongue.
“Cream? Sugar?” Sean said.
“No, thanks.”
Great. Now her first go at coffee was going to beblackcoffee. Still, Hobbs said nothing. Sean took his time pouring, then fiddling with the cream and sugar until he had what he wanted. The addition of condiments seemed to calm Hannah, as though she could stomach a hard-nosed cop who took cream and two sugars. “Hey,” Sean said, once he’d finished and came back to the counter with the coffees. “Why don’t you two let me have a little time with Hannah alone.” He looked first at Tabitha, then at Hobbs, his eyes indicating he wasn’t really asking.
Hobbs opened his mouth to protest, but then saw Hannah nodding in agreement. It slowly dawned on him that Hannah’s nervousness might not be just about Sean’s cop persona; it might actually have more to do with Hobbs being there, looming like the overprotective big brother. It kind of stung, to realize Hannah might have things to say she didn’t want to share with him.
“Come on.” Tabitha had already come around the counter and was staring at him. “Let’s give them some space.” She tilted her head toward the rows of shelves Victor had lost himself in looking for his gloves. “I have some inventory to stock. That way I can still mind the storefront while they get their privacy.”
“I’m not sure if—”
“I’ll leave Trinity with her.” Tabitha looked down at her little pit bull, who sat there agreeably, ready to do whatever work Tabitha had in mind. “Trinity, stay,” Tabitha said, pointing down as she took a few steps away.
Trinity settled on the ground and wagged her tail. Hannah gave Tabitha a grateful smile. “We’ll just be over here.” Tabitha pointed toward the shelves off on the left side of the shop.
Hobbs followed Tabitha around the corner, until they were deep in the rows of merchandise. Tabitha chose an aisle that was full of cardboard boxes, the top one on the stack undone, flaps sticking up in the air. She went to the carton, drew out some smaller boxes that lay inside and started stacking them on a high shelf. The boxes rattled, like they held small parts, and Tabitha had to tip on her toes to reach the shelf where the merchandise belonged. She wore jeans and a tight green sweater, both of which hugged her, curving and flaring just enough in all the right places. Her hair was pulled back with delicate gold clips that showed off her dark curls. Hobbs thought about commenting on her quads—they were definitely stronger than when she’d started at Semper Fit, back when she could barely back squat eighty-five pounds—but he found himself strangely unable to speak, to comment, to joke, to do any of the things he was used to doing with ease. Maybe it was the scent of her, all around him, something pretty like jasmine. Hell if he knew, but Tabitha seemed like the kind of girl who’d smell like jasmine, which was either a flower or a tea, Hobbs thought, but both suited her, so it didn’t matter.
“Here, let me help you.” Hobbs found his voice, but it came out scratchy. He leaned in and took the box from her hand, settling it easily on the shelf. He held out his hand for another, could see now that they were restocking bolts.
“Thanks.” Tabitha handed him the next box.
“How’ve you been doing?” It took everything Hobbs had to force out the small talk. “Haven’t seen you since that visit with Thaddeus.”
“I’m doing good.” Tabitha’s voice was soft. “You?”
“Good,” he echoed. “Other than the stuff with Hannah, of course. Thanks for helping her, by the way. The massage. And getting her to open up about those texts. Without you, I don’t think she would’ve said anything.”
“You’re welcome. I just want to help her, that’s all.”
Hobbs opened his hand for the next box, and the next. Their fingers brushed once, then again, more each time, like they both might be doing it on purpose, until the shelf was full and the carton empty. When they were done, neither of them moved. They stood less than a foot apart, the air warm around them, the shop quiet, with only Sean’s voice stabbing in the background. The scenario took Hobbs back, to all those times the cops would come to the house. He and Victor and Hannah would hide and the cops would grill Mom in that same voice—patient, but hard. Mom had never wanted them there, no matter how badly anyone had been hurt. Hopefully Hannah would be more forthcoming.
Tabitha parted her lips, like she might have something to say, but then she closed her mouth again. She pulled at the cuffs of her sweater, straightening the sleeves that had ridden up from stretching to reach the high shelf. Hobbs’s heart started a steady thud in his chest, making him feel even hotter inside his old Semper Fit hoodie, one of the originals that was thinning and worn but was the best color and fit, so he refused to toss it out. Originals were always the best.
Hobbs knew he should say something, or grab the box knife and cut open the next carton, but that feeling was still there, the one that had silenced him earlier, kept him from joking or making small talk. Tabitha didn’t talk or open another carton, either. In fact, she moved closer, apparently overcome by the same unspoken feelings Hobbs was having. Her fingertips brushed his as she fumbled for his hand. Cool, slender fingers traced gently inside his rough palm, sending a shiver over his body. He got that same feeling, just like the night she’d massaged him and had worked on his hands. Like she could see right inside him and know everything that was there, everything that he’d worked so hard to bury down as deep as the pit from this morning’s dream.
Tabitha leaned in, not waiting for him to make a move, maybe buoyed by the magnetic draw that sizzled both ways. Hobbs’s eyes closed and her soft lips touched his. The jolt of electricity woke him, his arm going around her waist, drawing her against him, his palm sliding over the enticing curve of her hip in her tight jeans. Tabitha made a little gasp as Hobbs pinned her against the shelves and deepened their kiss, knowing it was rough, that he ought to be gentler, but he’d been aching for more ever since that night at his house. Every time he was near her now he felt on edge, just this side of losing control.
Tabitha’s arms went around his neck, pulling him tighter, greedy, encouraging his lust. Her hands went to his shoulders, then down his back, squeezing and tracing over his muscles, like she was frustrated with the fabric. Those slim, cool fingers lit on his bare skin as she slid them beneath his sweatshirt. Every touch felt like fire, searing into him. Hobbs tried to catch her hands as they moved around front, but the intensity of her kiss kept him dazed, off his game.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Hobbs grasped her wrists and stilled her hands. He pulled back gently, but pressed his forehead to hers. “Wait.”
“I’m tired of waiting.”
“My sister is just around the corner.”
That seemed to snap her out of it. Tabitha slackened in his grip, and he released her. Her hands fell away, which was both blissful and excruciating. The sound of Hannah’s voice reached them, faint but unmistakable, and Hobbs’s blood started to cool. They stood there, breathing heavily while they stared at each other.
