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“I have a lot to think about over the next few days, I guess. It won’t feel the same sliding into that truck without Cootes. And if Nix is becoming chief, he won’t be in there either. Doesn’t leave me a lot of reason to stick, ya know? Since I won’t be coming back to the same squad.”
I pull into an empty parking space and bring the truck to a stop. Hitting the button for the brake, and taking my keys from the ignition, I look to the guy who is kinda, sorta, my friend. “Cootes’ turnouts are still on the racks.”
I study his eyes and hate how much hurt he still carries. How the very thought ofGreat Aunt Betsysetting him up with anyone is enough to make his stomach ache.
“They have new faces in the truck, but Cootes is still there, too.” I reach across and clap his arm before opening my door. “I don’t know if you wanted to know that, but…” I shrug and slam my door shut. “Figured I’d tell you. They haven’t pushed her aside like she didn’t exist. And anyone who knows you won’t be expecting you to do the same. So if some long lost biddy tries to pull one on you, chances are, most everyone else at this party will step in.”
“So I’m a charity case to be watched and handled with care?” He slams his door and meanders to the front of the hood. “Kiddie gloves?”
I drop my hands into my pockets and start toward the hotel entrance. “You’ll do you, Ruiz. In your own time. You could meet someone tonight, or in ten years, or never,” I concede with a shrug. “It’s your choice. And whatever you choose will be the right timing for you.”
“And you?” He walks so our shoulders almost touch as we pass through the hotel door. “If the bakery cutie doesn’t want you, when is it theright timefor you to move on?”
I stop on a skid and almost fall on my ass. Because just twenty feet ahead of us, with her back on full display, and her eyes focused on the woman she talks to, Hannah wears a silver, low-cut gown that shows off two delicious back dimples, and shoulder blades that prove just how strong she is.
She wears her hair in a high ponytail, the ends tickling the middle of her back. Chunky bangles on her wrists, right beside a silky mask she knew to bring tonight, but didn’t put on. She also carries a completely useless little purse slung from her arm, only big enough to carry lip gloss and a house key.
My heart thunders in my throat, and my stomach whooshes as she laughs and chats with a person I don’t know. Her smile, in profile, is breathtaking, and her complete and utter happiness, for as long as she’s unaware I’m here, reminds me of times gone by.
Of a lifetime ago, when she could be free and fun. When her heart hadn’t yet been shattered by my carelessness and cruelty.
“I wonder where she keeps her cellphone?” Ruiz leans closer until his shoulder taps mine. “Purse is too small. So maybe she—”
“Don’t talk about her. Good luck with Betsy.” I push away as Ruiz slips on a rubbery Phantom Of The Opera type mask, my adrenaline firing off, and that recklessness Nix spoke of propelling me forward.
I cross twenty feet in a single beat of my heart, and wrapping my hand around Hannah’s elbow, I swallow when she spins in fright and looks up at me.
First with surprise and curiosity. Then anger.
Potent, fiery fury.
Schooling her expression and yanking her arm from my grasp, she fakes a kind smile and glances to her guest. “Excuse me, Ms. Parker. It was so good to speak with you, but I really should get back to work.”
“Of course.”
Excused, Hannah turns and takes off so quickly, I have to jog to catch up.
“Wait. Hannah!” I grab her arm and slow her progress. “How the hell do you sprint in heels, anyway? It’s ridiculous.”
“Takes skill.” She hooks a sharp left and cuts me off so I almost plow into a wall. “Almost as much skill as you’ve mastered for ignorance, thinking you can talk to me when I’ve asked you not to.”
“I don’t want us to fight.” Again, I run to catch up, and pay no mind when we stride through the kitchen doors and emerge into the hustle and bustle of a dozen servers waiting for their trays. “I want you to forgive me, Sully. I miss you.”
“Oh, well, sure.” She picks up a tiny hors d’oeuvre and tosses it past perfectly glossed lips. “You’re forgiven. Since you said so.”
“Han—”
“Take these.” She grabs a heavy platter and passes it to a waiting server. Then another to the next. A third. “I’m working, Axel. Leave me alone.”
“You’ve already made the food.” I follow her when she starts toward the heavy, industrial-sized fridge. “You’re not a server. You’re not the party planner. So that means you’re not actually working. You’re avoiding.”
“Potato.” She yanks the massive steel door open, her strength a direct contrast to her delicate gown and thin arms. “Potahto. Food needs to reach the guests. So until that happens, I’m working.”
“Then I’ll help you.” I follow her into the fridge, caging her between me and a food-laden rack. She grabs down a tray and turns, only to squeak when she finds me so close. “I’ll carry the trays,” I offer. “You boss me around. I want to help.”
“I’d like to work without needing to pat your pretty little head and whisper thethere theresyou desire so much. I’ll give you a hint: they won’t cure the fact you’re a cruel asshole.” She shoulder-checks me and carries her food out the door. “Go away, Axel. There’s probably a forest fire somewhere for you to jump into, right?”
I follow her through the kitchen and keep my distance until she offloads her tray. Then I follow her some more as she moves into the hall and makes her way toward the function room.
