by L A Pepper
“You okay?” Hannah asked, her husky voice low and concerned as if she actually gave a damn.
I shrugged. I was longing for someone to give a damn.
“You want a beer?”
“A beer? It’s two in the afternoon on a weekday.” Not that I hadn’t spent all day drunk when it suited me, but it hadn’t suited me in a while, come to think of it.
She shrugged, mirroring my movement. “I’m a dog walker. I’ve got nowhere to be. You’re a billionaire playboy, just off a cross country flight. Do you have somewhere else to be right now?”
With the way she was looking at me, her easy way of being, not asking anything of me, or trying to be anything she wasn’t, I felt a fresh wash of longing go through me. Longing for what? I didn’t know. Not just a pretty girl. I wanted a more innocent time, maybe, where a guy and a pretty girl could sit and have a beer and just… be.
I sighed, and it felt like I’d been holding my breath for ages. “You know, I’ve had a pretty rough day, I could use a beer.”
“A rough day already?” she teased. “It’s still rather early.”
I nodded and ran my hand through my hair. “It’s a carry-over from my rough yesterday. And my rough last week. You know what? It’s been a rough year. I don’t know, maybe longer.”
This time when she looked at me, it was as if she got what I was saying on a deep level. She looked at me and I knew she wouldn’t expect me to be anything other than who I was. And I was enough for her.
Her smile twinkled, and she spun around to the refrigerator, pulling out a couple of beers and opening them. She set one in front of me and then raised hers in a toast. “Welcome home, James.”
Ahh. That was it. She felt like home.
Chapter Two
James Silver did not recognize me.
Not one bit.
I looked at him, and he was as beautiful as the last time I saw him when I was eighteen and screaming insults at him over the garden wall because he was such a pompous ass with his cool friends and all his money and privilege. And I was the geeky kid with frizzy dishwater hair and braces always looking to start a fight. No, when I looked at him, I saw the boy I had a hopeless crush on, but the man he’d become? He was more beautiful than ever, his dark hair longer and curling so that his blue eyes sparkled from behind a lock swept over his forehead. And that smile? A hundred watts. He must have been working on it. I had to stiffen my spine not to melt under its force. And goodness gracious, his shoulders were broad, and he was much taller than I remembered. He could wrap me up with arms and they would protect me from the whole world. Was it my memory or had he really grown so much? He was a man. He was A Man. He was everything I dreamed a man could be. And I wasn’t sure if my memories of him that were larger than life, or if he really was that much MAN.
And yet, when he looked at me, he didn’t know me. And to think about how I had been dreaming about him for my entire adolescence, longing for him, wishing that he’d notice me. He had such a prominent place in my memories, in my dreams, but when he saw me again, after all these years, he didn’t even recognize me. Had I changed that much? Did growing boobs and getting rid of your braces really make that much of a difference? I didn’t know. And now I was just amazed at it all.
I’d been shocked when he came into the house without warning, but not that shocked. It was his house, and I knew it. I’d always known it. I’d always maybe hoped he’d just show up one day while I was watching the dogs, so that wasn’t the surprise. And it wasn’t a surprise that he came in while I was doing a slow dance with Andromeda, who had better rhythm than Cassiopeia if I were being honest. It was pretty much the way my life went that people always found me doing something ridiculous. I was used to that. No, that wasn’t shocking.
What shocked me was how James looked at me now, as if he could eat me up with a spoon and lick me clean. And I liked it. A lot. It made me want to lean into him and bite his pulse point in ownership. Which was also shocking. I hadn’t felt that sort of thing in ages. If ever.
What was also shocking was that when he looked at me, he didn’t see the bane of his adolescence, his bratty, awkward next-door neighbor… backdoor neighbor, since his parents’ fancy expensive brownstone, and my parents’ tiny, run-down two-bedroom house shared a garden wall. A hundred years ago, my little house had just been the carriage house to the townhome, almost like a garage. My mom and dad, teachers, nothing special, had bought it when real estate was low and they had a little money from grandpa dying, and then they refused to sell all while the neighborhood was gentrifying and getting more and more expensive. They stayed to stick it to all rich people coming in and invading their neighborhood and trying to take over the small independent stores and move the poorer families out.
My parents were not what you call easy going. They were difficult and angry and opinionated. If they had a cause to fight for, they’d fight. If they had a petition to pass, they would knock on all the doors. If they had a march to join, oh they’d march all the way to DC if they had to.
Rebels, they said. Screw The Man, they said. And they had decided that The Man was best represented by the very wealthy and very proper Silver family. From the moment the Silvers moved in and tried to remove an ancient, beautiful maple tree from in front of the house, to the day I went to college, and my parents were trying to keep the Silvers from buying and tearing down a community center that my parents called historic and the Silvers called it a fire hazard that was only fit for the wrecking ball, the Silvers and the Clearys were at war. And so were James and I… only I’d gone by my first name then, Philomena—Phil, a horrible name that I dropped as soon as I went to college. Hannah, my middle name, was so much better. It was the name of a girl without the burden of that family. Of that past. Of that self.
My parents had embarrassed me so much, even if I agreed with some of what they said. I tried to play it cool with James, but he’d looked at me like I was a nuisance. Which wasn’t how he looked at me now. And I didn’t want that to change. That’s why I told him my name was Hannah. It wasn’t a lie. It was just… a delay. A pause.
So instead, I said, “I know who you are,” and let him believe it was through word of mouth or gossip magazines or Bette, and not from my own backyard. And when he smiled at me and made my knees go weak. I didn’t want to say goodbye so I offered him a beer.
I took a swallow and then choked.
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking at me with honest concern.
I laughed. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just realized I offered you your own beer. It’s in your fridge. In your house.”
He looked at the beer in his hand. “No, I’ve never met this beer. I’m pretty sure you offered me Bette’s beer. And since she’s living in my house, I don’t mind drinking her beer.” He looked sheepish. “I totally forgot that Bette was in Italy. I knew she was, but I forgot. I just needed to get away from LA and I couldn’t wait. I needed to come home.”
“You needed to come home so badly you couldn’t warn anyone you were coming? I bet you had time to gas up your private jet.”
He wrinkled his face in confusion. God, he was so cute, with those piercing blue eyes and the black hair that waved over his forehead. Even puzzlement looked good on him. “I just booked the first available flight. I don’t have a private jet.”
“Of course you do. You’re a billionaire. Why wouldn’t you waste all your money on a private jet?”
He scoffed. “Maybe I’m a billionaire because I don’t waste all my money on private jets I don’t use, hmm?”
“That’s why you have a multi-million dollar house that no one lives in while you are living it up in LA with your gorgeous wife?” Wow. That came out a lot more sharp-edged than I meant it to be. I was jealous. Jealous of his gorgeous, perfect, famous wife, which was RIDICULOUS, because I hadn’t seen James Silver in over a decade. And even then, he was just the billionaire next door. No matter how I longed for him, he wasn’t mine, never had been and never would be, and I knew
it. So why was I saying things that made him narrow his eyes at me and sniff disdainfully? What was wrong with me?
“Listen. I don’t want to talk about Brigitte. And I don’t want to talk about LA. It’s a terrible city. I’m a New Yorker. I belong here. This is my home. And it wasn’t empty. My cousin was living in it while I was on the wrong coast, so do you think we could just relax a little? I really need to relax.”
I looked at him again. Behind the perfect bone structure and muscled shoulders. His blue eyes were sad. And tired. James was sad, and I didn’t like it. I knew it was ridiculous to have a stake in his well being, but I did, and I had nowhere else to be, so I was going with it.
I nodded to him as if I had the answer to all his problems. I did.
“You know what’s a good tonic to a too long flight from all your responsibilities across the country?”
“What?” His voice was suspicious, but also curious and I loved it.
“A Greenwich Village garden courtyard on a perfect afternoon with a six-pack of beer and cheese puffs.”
“What?” Utterly bewildered.
“You heard me. Cheese puffs. Trust me.” I turned around and pulled Bette’s snacks out from her cupboard. His cupboard. “These are organic. I couldn’t get Bette to buy the neon orange ones, but these will do. We’ll just have to imagine our fingers are the color of toxic waste.”
“Toxic waste?” he looked puzzled. I came out from behind the expansive slate countertop, grabbing the rest of the six-pack on the way and shoved him with my shoulder so he slid off the stool and onto his feet.
“Come on,” I said, “I’m inviting you to sit with me out in your courtyard. Don’t you want to come? You can tell me about your terrible day slash week slash year, and I can tell you about mine. It’s a good deal longer than a year though, so I don’t know how long it will take us to get through mine.”
He laughed. Not a ha-ha laugh. A surprised laugh. Like I was the surprise. I liked that. I ran my tongue along my teeth and he watched it. Oh my.
Instead of responding to that or the tingle going through my nerves, I opened the French doors to the garden. The dogs tumbled through, practically knocking me down, and I settled myself at the wrought iron patio table. He gathered himself to come join me, a silly grin on his face like he didn’t know what was happening in his life.
I liked it. I liked that I wasn’t the only one who was spinning. He was just as stunned as I was.
* * *
The afternoon unraveled without me even realizing it. We chatted about everything under the sun but ourselves. It was an attempt to banish the bad days/months/years by simply pretending they didn’t exist, if just for right now.
The bag of snacks emptied. I wasn’t sure how. The beer bottles dwindled down to two, and both of us nursed our last sips, knowing that when our drinks were done, I’d have to leave. I didn’t want to leave, and I didn’t think he wanted me to either. The dogs lazed at our feet, snoozing. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, while I tried to keep myself from drooling. His hair rumpled in the warm late spring breeze.
He mocked me for my choice of music, to which I feigned offense and then offered to prove the superiority of indie singer-songwriters.
I cranked the kitchen stereo up until the dogs started leaping around, thinking that we were playing our game again.
“Dance!” James cried, his smile so wide and bright it made my heart sing. I wrinkled my nose at him, knowing he was making fun, but I would make him work for it.
“Only if you dance with us.” I stood and pointed at him, challenging, trying to keep the grin from my face, but failing.
“To this? This weird screechy lady with the ridiculous range?”
“Yes, to this screechy lady. How else do you expect to dance with dogs if it isn’t weird and faintly feral?”
He laughed. Oh, it was such a good laugh. And his eyes caught mine. Oh, it was such a good look. And he stood. And took a step towards me. Two. Just an arm’s distance away he started head banging and leaping about like a deranged flea.
I doubled over, hysterical, before finding my breath again. “Yes!” I cried and then joined him. Then the dogs joined in too and we were all four of us leaping around like lunatics, laughing and barking like crazy.
I nearly fell over Andromeda, underfoot. I caught myself but got tangled up in the over-enthusiastic dog. Cassiopeia had to be involved whenever her sister was getting attention, and she came bounding in, and then I tripped.
“Woah,” James said, catching me before I landed on the ground, his arms strong around me, holding me tight up against his chest. It felt so good. He felt good. His heat soaked into me and the rapid beating of his heart made mine want to keep time with his in agreement.
I caught my breath and looked up into his face. He looked down at me, laughter fled. His lips curved gently, tenderly. They looked soft and full and I yearned. “Hi,” he said. That was all. I knew that look. He wanted to kiss me. He bit the corner of his mouth and glanced down at mine.
“Sorry,” I said and pushed back, my hands against his chest, trying to get my feet under me again. He held onto my arms until I got my balance back.
“You okay?”
I stepped back. “Yeah,” I said, not feeling okay. It wasn’t my balance on my feet I’d lost. It was my balance in my head. In my heart. I wanted him. My body wanted to lean into his. My hands wanted to wrap around his back, slide up his lean muscles to his neck, into his hair and grab on. My lips wanted to press against his, my tongue wanted to taste. I stepped back farther. “No. No. James. I’m not okay.”
His brows drew close in concern. “What’s the matter?”
“This.” I spread my arms out at the lovely garden, the flowers and trees and walls keeping the city and life and reality away.
“We were just having fun, Hannah,” he reached out for my wrist as if he wanted to pull me back into his embrace.
I wouldn’t let him. “That’s what I’m talking about. Right there. We aren’t just having fun.” I didn’t want to play games anymore. I didn’t want to live my life afraid to say what was on my mind. And this was dangerous. “There’s something between us. You wanted to kiss me.”
He huffed a soft laugh. “Yeah, I did. You’re right. And you wanted to kiss me back.”
I stomped my foot a little. I did not like that. He was acting like it was okay. “You’re married, James. To a very beautiful and famous woman. You’re married. You can’t kiss me.”
I watched the ease and happiness in his body tighten with tension. His bright eyes grew dark, and he clenched his jaw. “Hannah, it isn’t—” He stopped and glared at me like it was my fault he was married. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s complicated, okay. Everything with her is very complicated.”
“I know complicated, James. I don’t do complicated anymore if I can help it. What I want out of life is very simple. Me. A job that gets me by. And people who don’t make my life complicated. That’s it.”
“Is that all you want out of life?” he asked me as if he had a right to know my goals in life.
“It is right now.”
He let out a sigh of frustration. “Hannah. I just need to explain—” He stopped again. Sighed again. Raked his hand through his hair. “Hannah.”
I laughed. “Right. Okay. Well, you know what? I’ve got to go walk the dogs now.”
“No you don’t. They’re in a garden. They don’t need to walk.”
“They aren’t the only dogs I walk. I have eleven. And they all need to be walked. It’s my job.”
“How long do eleven dogs take to walk? I need to talk to you. No. I want to talk to you.”
“Two hours, but I don’t know—”
“Please.”
If he were anyone else but the boy I spent my adolescence pining for, I would have left and never talked to him again. He was too dangerous. But he was that boy. That man. And some part of me wanted to hold on to that side of
myself that still believed in love, still believed in men, still believed in hope.
This made James Silver the most dangerous man alive for me. And yet. “Okay, I’ll be back in two hours. You’d better make it good.” I courted danger. I was a fool.
* * *
When I came back later, dusk had fallen. I opened the door of the brownstone and let Andromeda and Cassiopeia off their leashes, and then James was there. I hung the leashes up on the hooks by the door without looking at him.
“Don’t go,” he said before I could say anything.
“I was about to tell you I couldn’t stay.” I tried not to look at him but it was so hard. I could feel him standing there even when I wasn’t looking at him. I peeked. He remained as good looking as I thought he’d been. The whole walk was me talking to eleven dogs, arguing with them about how he couldn’t possibly be that handsome, that it was just my teenage memory making him even dreamier than he was. But there he stood, leaning against the archway, tall and broad-shouldered with those piercing eyes staring straight into my soul. What a mess. Me. I was a mess. He was glorious. A god. I was so screwed.
He’d changed. He was wearing a navy t-shirt and jeans that fit so well that they tested my will power. He had to know how good looking he was. He was married to a movie star. Had he done it on purpose?
“I’m not married.”
“The hell you aren’t. I’m not an idiot. You got married not even a year ago. It was in all the papers. I saw the whole photoshoot. She is the most beautiful woman in the world. Like. It’s official, James. THE most beautiful. They voted. I saw the magazine covers.” I took off my windbreaker, with one pocket full of dog treats and the other full of plastic bags for doggie doo. I hung it up next to the dogs’ leashes. Because I lived in the house behind the garden, this was always my first and last stop on my dog walking rounds, and since I was dog sitting Andromeda and Cassiopeia, I kept my supplies here. Would I have to change my routine because James was back? And so tempting? I shot a look at him.
