Henry

by Tessa Frank

  “Well, hello, ladies.”

  I can hear the laugh in his voice as I peak out from under the cucumber placed over my right eye. I knew letting Hadley talk me into a facial and mani-pedi was a bad idea. Not that Hadley is even remotely upset about Henry seeing her slathered face — something green with a faint minty feel.

  I slide lower in my seat as they chat about the reunion, Henry praising Hadley’s party planning skills. “Just ask her out already,” I mumble, not intending it to be loud enough to be heard.

  Henry’s head turns toward me. He eases down as if to sit on the footrest of my chair. He flicks my foot when I refuse to move it.

  I still refuse to move. “It’s my footrest,” I point out. I know I’m pouting.

  “And I will sit on your foot, if you don’t move it.” His butt, which is amazing given the way his jeans fit, is nearly on top of my foot. “You’ve been warned, Becs.”

  I yank my foot out, big toe poking one cheek just because. It’s oddly stimulating, which is weird. I shift in my chair, facing away from the two of them as they talk about what they’ve been up to.

  Hadley has all kinds of questions about Henry’s military service, and I can’t stop myself from listening. He’s been through so much. When the beautician comes to clean off Hadley’s face, I’m openly staring at Henry. It’s nerve wracking to be alone with a hero.

  Henry looks at me. “What?”

  “What what?”

  He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Stop staring at me like that.”

  I blink. “Why?”

  “It feels wrong.”

  “My staring at you because you’re a hero feels wrong?”

  Henry’s eyes bore into mine. “I’m not a hero.”

  “That’s not what I heard.” I cross my arms.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not.”

  Henry’s walking away when I say, “You always were one.” The stutter in his step tells me he heard, even if he doesn’t come back or look at me.

  Hadley’s back. “Where’s Henry?”

  “He left.”

  Hadley looks toward the sidewalk outside the salon. “Did he ask you out?”

  “Nope.”

  “We’ll work on that next then.”

  “We will not.” The beautician calls me, saving me from what I know will be Hadley’s refusal to back down. If Hadley’s involved, I’d be better off leaving town.

  8

  Henry

  “Why are you so mopey?” Alicia asks, setting a cup of coffee down in front of me. I level an annoyed look at her. She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. You look like you lost your favorite puppy.”

  “I do not.” I’m a man. No way I ever look like a little boy.

  “You totally do.”

  Alicia doesn’t hang around to discuss it. It’s busy at Mack’s Place. I’m grateful for the busy as it keeps me from having to chat.

  That is until Devon Parker sits down beside me and offers me a job. Literally. Just like that. My head is spinning.

  “What’d Parker want?” Alicia asks, leaning across the counter. “I can tell it was something big from your face, so don’t bother lying about it.”

  “Offered me a job managing his parents’ farm.” If I sound dazed, it’s definitely because I am.

  “Farming?” Alicia’s head tilts to the side.

  I nod. “Farming.”

  Alicia straightens away, a smile playing about her lips. I feel a matching smile forming on my face. “Guess this means I’m stuck with you for a bit longer.”

  “I’ll get my own place soon enough, sis.”

  She tweaks my nose in the same way she did as a four-year-old demanding my attention. “See that you do.” With a nod to someone behind me, Alicia moves off.

  I stare down into my nearly empty, utterly not topped off coffee mug.

  “What’s good here?”

  I swivel in my seat. “Hadley force you to get a blowout too?”

  Becca sits ramrod straight beside me, worrying her bottom lip in a way that’s more enticing than it should be. “She’s a force.”

  I look her up and down, taking in the fact that she’s yet to relax. “I thought mani-pedis and trips to the salon were so supposed to be relaxing. You look strung tight.”

  A snort. Becca snorts at me, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Ah, see, I knew there was a smile in there somewhere,” I tease.

  Becca sighs. The tension drops out of her shoulders. “How have you always been able to do that?”

  “Guess I just know you.” I poke at one of her brightly painted fingers. “You’re gonna strip that off as soon as you get home, aren’t you?” I wish I’d used a term other than strip.

  Becca flashes the nails at me, holding her fingers out to stare at the paint job. It’s nice. Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to feel her nails on my back in a hot moment, but I don’t care if those nails are bare or all prettied up. Don’t care at all. I’m too uncomfortable just thinking that to care. Thank goodness I’m sitting down.

  “I’m considering it.” Becca’s voice sounds normal, making me wince given the way my thoughts were going. “Figure I’ll have a difficult time finding the nail polish remover. I’m not sure where that’s packed.”

  Alicia floats by. “I’ve got some in my bathroom cabinet. Henry can get it for you, if you stop by.”

  Her wink is all for me.

  “Thanks,” Becca calls after her. “That’s really nice of her to offer.”

  “Yeah, really nice.” My thoughts are more on sibling murder. That is until Becca asks if she can come over and use the nail polish remover. Then I’m right back where I was, only this time I’m heading for the restaurant door with a silent Becca beside me.

  9

  Becca

  I can hear Henry rummaging in the bathroom from my spot at the kitchen counter. “Finding it ok?” I yell.

  “Think so.” A cabinet bangs closed and Henry walks out from his sister’s room. It’s a one-bedroom apartment. Henry holds up a bag of cotton balls and a bottle of nail polish remover. “This is everything, right?”

  Nodding, I say, “That’s everything.” As I take the goods, I ask about the apartment. “Where do you sleep in this place?”

  “There.” Henry points at the couch.

  I wince, opening the polish remover bottle. “Ouch.”

  “It’s not that bad. Trust me.” I eye the man, my lack of belief clear. Henry shrugs. “Hey, I’ve slept in worse places.”

  “Me too.” I feel myself smile as the memory takes hold. I sit at the counter, taking the polish off my nails, regaling Henry with tales of my travels. Pretty soon we’re in an open competition to see who’s slept in the worst place.

  “Dirt floors,” is my vote for winner.

  Henry tilts a bottle of water to his mouth. “I’ll give you one better.” I arch a brow, waiting. “Dirt floor beside an anthill that you accidentally stepped on.”

  “Ow.” Then my mind flashes to when that happened. I poke an accusing finger into his chest. “That happened sophomore year. Doesn’t count.”

  Henry wraps his hand around my finger. “It counts.”

  At his touch, my head shifts to thoughts of a different kind. I lean toward him, my free hand flattening against his chest for balance and more. Henry’s eyes darken as he stares down at me for a moment that lasts longer than time.

  Then his lips are on mine. Our kiss runs wild, memory and fresh touches mixing together. Heady. Needy. Everything that’s been missing from my life comes crashing back in with such force that I’m reduced to nothing. I can’t stop myself from giving in to what I need and want so badly.

  This is either my greatest mistake or best decision ever.

  10

  Henry

  I don’t know how this happened, but I’m not about to let it go. Becca kissed me. Now I’m kissing her and she’s kissing me back. This is what I want.

  Only…

  Rage and anger aren’t normal kissing emotio
ns. Yet they’re here with me. My lips are probably bruising her’s with all the pent up force that’s leaving me.

  Not that I’m ready to stop.

  I know I could stop. I’m a Marine. Former Marine, but still a Marine. I can stop the moment she says this is done.

  Over.

  I will stop as soon as she tells me she wants to.

  That moment never comes.

  Not complaining.

  11

  Becca

  Tessa’s Gossip Column

  This reporter spotted Henry Sanchez and Becca Fisher leaving Mack’s Diner together. Oh la la.

  Will someone please kiss and tell?

  I open my eyes. I don’t remember closing them, but somehow, during the kissing and everything, when one thing led to another, I did. Now I’m stuck opening them into harsh light. “Ugh, that kitchen light is awful.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” Henry replies, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He glances around the tiny area. “How’d we manage to fit?”

  I’m more than a little surprised he’s not jumping up, grabbing his clothes… what little actually came off… and running out of here. Granted, it is technically his home. I tuck in my shirt. “Horizontal.”

  Henry’s eyes flick to me, doing that thing where they turn smoldering dark and hot.

  “Don’t do that.” I point an accusing finger at him for emphasis.

  “Do what?”

  And he smiles. “That!” Ok, I’m probably sounding a little nuts.

  “What?”

  “That thing where your eyes go all dark and sexy.” I look away as his grin turns smug. “And the smile.”

  He scoots across the narrow galley kitchen area toward me. I’ve got nowhere to go except into a cabinet, and that’s not going to happen. “So you like my smile.” His voice is molten.

  I shove at his shoulder, wanting and not wanting him to move away. “Tease.”

  “If I remember correctly, you enjoy being teased.”

  I tilt my head, eyes narrowing. “I think you’re confusing me with someone else.”

  Henry runs a finger down my arm. Gooseflesh springs up where he touches, giving away how I feel. “I bought a ring.”

  If he’d dumped ice water over my head, it would have the same effect. The air ceases in my lungs. I push hard to move away.

  Henry wraps that enticing hand around my forearm. “That isn’t what I meant to say.”

  “Well, it’s what you definitely did say.” And right after what was probably the most amazing… never mind. I can’t let myself go there or I’ll start crying. I just need to get out of here, dignity in shreds but present. Staying will ruin that possibility.

  12

  Henry

  Crud. I have majorly messed this up. This is me and my big mouth blurting out the most inappropriate thing possible. Becca is struggling to get to her feet. I know tears are coming. I should let her go. But I can’t do it this way, not even to Becca who I could claim actually deserves it.

  Only she doesn’t deserve it from me because my heart hasn’t let her go.

  I jerk her to her feet, standing so close that my body touches her. “I’m sorry.”

  “I. Don’t. Care.” She bites out the words.

  “I never stopped caring.” I get a blink. “I’ve dreamed of you since then. And this,” I free one hand from her arm hoping she won’t dash away, “this is more of a surprise than a single guy is supposed to admit to.”

  Arms cross over her chest. “Are you saying you’re being a jerk right now because you’re doing an abysmal job of playing it cool?”

  “No guy ever wants to admit to that.”

  Becca raises her brows, fury mixing into the pain I caused.

  “Ok, fine. I’m being a jerk.” I let go of her to run my hands through my hair. “It’s just…” I can’t even articulate what I want to say.

  “What’d you do with it?”

  I glance at her, confused by the sudden topic change. “With what?”

  “The ring. What did you do with it?”

  Pride forces me to stand tall. “I kept it.”

  Becca’s mouth falls open with an audible gasp. “You kept it.”

  “Surprised?”

  She steps back, one hand at her mouth. “Yeah.”

  “What’d you think I’d do with it?” It’s hard not to glare at her.

  There’s a bit of a shrug as Becca rolls a shoulder up and down. She leans against the counter beside me. We’re not touching, but she’s not fleeing. “I don’t know. I guess I assumed you’d return it.”

  “Rings don’t come with great return policies.” Add to that is the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to do. Returning that ring meant it was really and truly over between me and Becca. Somehow I wasn’t willing to let that be true. Now look at us.

  I glance at her. “You know, maybe we should, I don’t know, date.”

  Becca barks out a laugh. “Since we’ve already slept together, you mean.”

  How is it possible for my cheeks to feel warm right now? I’m a Marine, not a schoolgirl. “That and maybe because it seems like we’ve got some unresolved feelings.”

  Her “I’ll say” snort gives me more hope than I have any right too.

  13

  Becca

  Henry’s idea of dates aren’t quite what I expected. First, he takes me out for dinner. That’s fine. Technically, it should have come before the heavy kissing part of things, but who’s keeping score. Fine. Me. I’m keeping score and I botched that. But I have plans.

  The day after our first official dinner, Henry started his new job as the manager of Devon Parker’s farm. Suddenly we were reduced to extremely early mornings and nights. Even on the weekends.

  On top of that, I had a lot of packing to do to get dad’s place set up for auction. Time together was at a premium.

  “How about Mexican take out?” Henry asks when he calls me.

  I pause in filling out interview prep questions. I scratch my nose. “Does Jalapeños do take out? I thought they’d stopped.”

  Jalapeños is by far the best in Brentwood. When one son took over, they’d branched into take out and gotten burned — not literally. Mostly the food didn’t stay hot enough and people complained. Now they were all about catering and dine-in, or so I thought.

  “Not Jalapeños.”

  “There’s a good Mexican place that isn’t Jalapeños?” I’m seriously doubting it.

  “Taco Heaven.”

  I repeat the name, typing it into the internet. Got to check it out.

  “It’s on my way to your dad’s place,” Henry finishes. I’ve noticed that neither of us refer to my childhood home as “my place.” I wonder if that’s as intentional for him as it is for me.

  “Hmm.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Well, it’s got a few good reviews. I’m not sure how much I trust them.”

  Henry laughs. “Why bother looking at the reviews if you’re not going to trust them?”

  “Habit?”

  “As good a reason as any.”

  I sigh. “Ok, I’ll be adventurous and try it.”

  “Sweet. I’ll pick up your usual and see you soon.”

  I bite back the “I love you” that threatens to pop out, substituting a lame, “Later.”

  I have got to get it together. I click back to the interview questions. High school. When I attended I never once thought to return but, given my rather random skill set and the complete lack of a local newspaper, I was feeling nostalgic. And determined. I want to stay in Brentwood, Illinois. I want to be home. With my friends. With Henry.

  I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, including my own. I glance at the clock on the screen. “Better finish this before he gets here.”

  14

  Henry

  Tessa’s Gossip Column

  This reporter thinks Henry Sanchez and Becca Fisher are an item. Again.

  My eyes keep drifting back to
Becca’s laptop. I’m certain she was working on something when I got here. She denies it, but she’s up to something.

  I swallow a burp. “Ugh.” A fist pound to my chest doesn’t ease the pain. Burps are meant to be a relief. Holding them back to protect Becca’s delicate sensibilities is costing me.

  “I’m not sure Taco Heaven is settling all that well.” Becca places a hand on her stomach.

  I grin, standing and holding out a hand to take the paper plates Becca hands me. “Ditto.” I wink at her. “You’ll have to take it easy on me tonight.” Granted, I’ve struggled to be truly comfortable here, so having a night “off” sounds good no matter what.

  Becca stands up stiffly. “Right. I need to take it easy on you.”

  I enjoy the laugh in her voice. Makes me feel all capable with my woman. I dump the plates in the trash, then turn back to her. “Let’s get started.”

  Becca steps toward the hallway. “Right. Over here. I thought we’d set up the office tonight. It’s one of the last ones until the auction.”

  “Lead the way.” I swat her read end. She jumps. Pshh-whoosh.

  Becca freezes.

  “Did you—“ I can’t even get the word out. The smell is a dead giveaway. As is the look of horror on her face. I sag to the side, leaning against the wall. “Oh, my goodness. That was awful.”

  “Shut up.” Becca’s hand swipes at me. “I can’t help it. The food isn’t—“

  I let one rip.

  Becca’s eyes bulge. “Gross.” She slaps her hand over her nose. “Oh goodness, Henry.”

  I toot again, then belch for good measure. “Yeah, baby.” I rub my chest. “No more holding those back.”

  “You were holding back. That fart was rank.”