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Chapter Eight
Hannah kneaded the steering wheel, thinking she should be back in the kitchen at the West Wing, pounding her frustration into a nice, sugary dough. Cinnamon rolls. That was the sweet treat she needed to make it through another week with Luke so close it hurt.
At the same time, she knew what she needed to do if she wanted him to be so close it felt good.
She needed to break up with Chuck. He’d called last week and asked her out. Hannah had made up an excuse about not feeling well, about things being so hectic on the ranch, and about wanting to be on the ranch to hold Emma’s new baby.
In reality, things were hectic on the ranch. She didn’t feel well, because she knew she needed to break up with her boyfriend. And she had held baby Frannie for a good hour before she started to fuss and cry to the point that Hannah had to take her back to her mother.
That hour had been wonderful, with a snuggly, sleeping baby against her chest and Emma’s twelve-year-old making mint brownies in the kitchen behind her. Missy loved to bake, and Hannah loved to eat what she baked, so they had a pretty amazing friendship.
So it was that Hannah had Connor, Missy, and Petunia—Emma’s teacup piglet—in the back of her sedan, all of them on the way to the beach. She couldn’t deny Missy, not when she’d be eating the most amazing brownies with the exact right amount of mint flavoring in the frosting for the next two weeks.
Her mouth watered just thinking about taking a pre-cut brownie from the freezer and having that first bite. She knew exactly how long to let it sit on the counter to warm up a little bit—eight minutes—and still get the frozen center and plenty of snappy, cool mint on her tongue.
“Almost there,” she said, swallowing as she realized her mouth had started to water. “You guys have to keep an eye on Petunia if the tide is high. I don’t want to be responsible for losing your mama’s prize pig.”
Missy giggled and shook her head. “Petunia can swim. She’ll be fine.”
“Can pigs swim?” Hannah asked.
“Of course they can,” Missy said. “They’re actually really good swimmers, Miss Hannah. We put Petunia in the pool every summer.”
Hannah smiled at the girl. “Okay, but you’re taking the blame if she drowns.”
“All right,” Missy said, looking at something Connor held up to show her.
Hannah did love the kids, and when it had come down to her to take them to the beach or they couldn’t go, she hadn’t had the heart to deny them. She’d told herself for the half-hour it had taken them to get ready to leave that she wouldn’t stay. Luke was here, and he could easily fit two kids in his truck to bring them back to the ranch.
At the same time, she wore her swimming suit under her clothes, and who did that if they were simply dropping people off? She wasn’t going to swim either, as it was barely March, and even though the sun shone brightly and the temperature on the dash read seventy-five, Hannah could pretend to be too cold.
She wasn’t sure she wanted Luke to see her in her swimming suit either. She’d bought a new one at the end of last season, as that was the best time to get a good deal on something expensive. Right when it was about to stop being used.
The black suit didn’t have a stitch of color on it—very slimming—and held up all the right pieces with thick straps that went over her shoulders and right up behind her neck. She liked that, as she had a bit of a hump on the top of her spine, and the last thing she needed was an open back on her swimming suit.
Her nerves hit her again as the kids giggled in the back seat. She glanced in the rearview mirror, reminding herself that this trip was for them.
Yeah, right, she thought, going back to gripping the steering wheel as she drove the stretch of highway along the Gulf Coast. They arrived at the beach, and she said, “Everyone out,” in the most cheerful voice she could muster. Nate had texted her where Luke would be, and she started scanning for him the moment she stood from the car.
She had the man’s number, so having Nate relay all the information about which beach he’d gone to, and where he sat on it seemed so silly to her. She’d typed out at least a dozen messages to him over the past week, but she’d sent exactly zero.
She lifted her huge canvas beach bag from the trunk, having packed it to the brim with towels, snacks, water, her tablet, extra flip flops, sunscreen, and bug spray. So much for just dropping the kids at the beach and calling it her service for the day. Who had she honestly been kidding?
Connor bent over the trunk and came up with the sand toys, and Missy reached in for the floaties. “Got everything?” Hannah asked, still scanning the beach for any sign of Luke. There weren’t too many people here, and he shouldn’t be too hard to spot.
“Got everything,” Missy said.
Hannah turned back to the car, hoping the children hadn’t seen her frowning out over the beach, trying to find the tall, tan, talented, and utterly tantalizing Luke Holt. She closed the trunk and clicked the fob to lock the vehicle. “Let’s find Luke.”
“He’s right there,” Connor said, pointing.
Hannah followed his finger, and sure enough Luke walked toward them. He wore a bright blue pair of swimming trunks and a cowboy hat. Oh, and a smile as wide as the ocean. No shirt. No shoes. He was dressed down and casual. Relaxed and oh-so-handsome.
Her pulse went positively crazy, and she felt sure he’d see it beating in the vein in her neck.
“Howdy, friends,” he said in an exaggerated accent. Connor ran toward him, and Luke lifted the boy up into the air, sand toys and all. “You made it.” He glanced at Hannah. “How much did you have to pay Hannah to drive you?”
“They didn’t pay me,” she said as she and Missy approached at a more human pace.
