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“Because I’m not that interesting.”
“That’s a load of bull, Hannah Banana. You just don’t see yourself the way I do.”
Hannah rolled her eyes, silently agreeing with her. Her mom was constantly telling Hannah everything she could do with her life; crazy, far-fetched dreams that Hannah had no desire to pursue. Like auditioning for American Idol or The Bachelor. Hannah just wanted to get a full-time teaching position and maybe someday submit her books for publication. Not parade around in front of TV cameras and have what little self-confidence she had shredded for entertainment purposes.
Maybe she should be a bit disturbed that her mother actually enjoyed shows like that.
“If they wanted to talk to anyone again, Mom, it would be Blake.” Cranky lady was pushing her cart away, still shooting shade Hannah’s way, and she was tempted to make a face right back, but she refrained. “He was the real hero.”
“Yes, he is! Have you seen him since?”
“No, he hasn’t been in.” Hannah tried to keep the disappointment from her tone, knowing her mom would latch onto it like a boa constrictor.
Guess he didn’t want to deal with my hero worship anymore
.
“Well, when you see him, tell him I want to have him over for dinner some night to thank him for saving my baby.”
“Mom . . . ” Hannah started through gritted teeth.
“Oh, sweetie, I have to go! We’re heading over to Linus and Mary Pat’s to play bridge.”
Hannah almost released a depressed sigh. It was really sad when her parents had better social lives than she did.
As if sensing her train of thought, her mother asked, “By the way, what are your plans for the evening?”
Hannah grabbed a couple limes and stuffed them in a bag before answering. “Not sure yet.”
“Well, whatever you do, be careful. Your father and I were watching ID network the other night, and there was this horrible story about a girl who got separated from her friends, and this man kidnapped her, raped her, and cut off her—”
“Okay, thanks, but that’s enough of that. Seriously, you guys need to stop watching those shows or at least stop telling me about it.”
“I’m only saying, you’re a young woman living alone, and I worry.”
Hannah sighed. “You have nothing to worry about, really. What happened this week was an anomaly. I was just out back when he walked up. That’s it. I can’t live in a bubble.”
“I know, sweetie, but I’m your mom. It’s my job to care.”
And Hannah was really glad for that.
“I know, and I love you for it.”
“I love you, too, Hannah Banana. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Night, Mom. Tell Dad I said hi.”
“I will. Bye.”
Hannah made sure the call ended and slipped the phone into her purse. Retrieving the shopping list she’d made and a pen from inside, she started checking off what she’d already grabbed. She’d planned on making a chicken salad recipe she’d seen on Facebook earlier in the week, but a salad just didn’t sound as good as a plate of mile-high beefy nachos.
Of course, if she ever wanted to squeeze back into her size fourteen jeans again, she needed to change something. She’d thought about joining a gym, but between waitressing at Dale’s Diner and substitute teaching, it was hard to justify spending fifty bucks a month for something she might make it to twice a week. Walking with a friend was out, too, since most of them were just as busy as Hannah, if not more so.
She just needed the discipline to do one of her workout DVDs in the morning or evening. She had a whole shelf of them, but gathering the energy to shake her booty at four in the morning or seven at night was hard.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice behind her rumbled just before a long, muscular arm reached past her toward the limes.
Hannah turned sharply and found herself face-to-face with Blake, who appeared as surprised as she was.
