by Codi Gary
“Um, you mean, you want me to grab your . . . penis?”
He sounded strained when he answered. “I’ve got a cup on, so it should be fine. You don’t have to castrate me, just reach back like you would if I was actually attacking you.”
“Okay.” Hannah waited, her hands out as she rocked on the balls of her feet, anticipating Blake’s arms going around her once more.
Suddenly, Blake grabbed her from behind, nearly lifting her off her feet, and she gave a startled yell. It was rougher than she’d expected, and a lump of panic rose up in her throat as adrenaline kicked in. She wiggled and heaved in his arms until he seemed off balance for a split second, then she took the opportunity to twist her arm back and grab him through his pants.
Only her grab was more like a punch, and she winced as her fist hit hard plastic.
Blake let her go, and when she turned, she found Blake on the ground, lying on his side with his knees tucked up to his stomach. Her hand covered her mouth, and she immediately went to her knees beside him, apologizing. “I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”
Without warning, Blake moved, far too quick for her to react, and she found herself on her back, staring up at him.
“You were supposed to stomp on my ankle and run.”
Hannah blinked several times as his words sank in. She hadn’t actually hurt him?
Relieved, she started laughing, shaking her head up at him. “I thought I’d hurt you.”
“If you’d done that nut punch on me without a cup, my pain might have been real, but luckily, it took the brunt of that hit. Nice move, by the way.” Blake reached out a hand to help her up, a wide grin on his face. “But I’m a fantastic actor, huh?”
“Yes, you are,” she said, her other hand grabbing onto his bicep to steady herself. As Hannah gazed up into Blake’s hazel eyes, she was completely aware that they were alone in this room. That what they were doing could be considered incredibly intimate . . .
And he was pulling away from her, his hands circling her throat loosely, all business again. Hannah had to admit that she preferred the mischievous, laughing side of Blake more than Mr. Reserved, but since this was what she’d asked for, she wasn’t going to complain. At least he was here, helping her and spending time with her. She wanted to know more about Blake, to get to know him outside the diner, and so far, this was working out splendidly for that.
“Now, when you’re faced with an attacker who goes for your throat, you need to attack his eyes or even use your knee for his groin while ripping his ears down.”
A horrific image popped into her head at those words, and her stomach turned a bit. “Ripping his ears down? What is that?”
“You grab the top of his ears and pull downward as hard as you can. They’re sensitive and easily injured.”
“That’s pretty gross.”
“Hey, you gotta get over being squeamish, especially if it’s your life on the line,” he said.
He was right, but Hannah couldn’t imagine ripping off someone’s ears.
Hannah checked out Blake’s ears briefly, noticing for the first time that they stuck out slightly, an adorable imperfection to his otherwise handsome visage.
“Unfortunately, not everyone is going to have ears so easy to grab onto,” he said, practically reading her thoughts.
Hannah giggled and reached up, running her finger over the shell of his ear. “I think they’re cute.”
Blake’s hazel eyes twinkled. “No one has ever called my ears cute. My wife used to . . . ”
His mouth snapped shut, and his face became unreadable.
Hannah’s heart squeezed painfully. Blake had been married?
He’d never mentioned a wife before.
“Your wife used to what?”
Blake cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze as he went to the fridge in the corner. He pulled out two bottles of water, not answering right away. Finally, as he handed her the cold plastic, he spoke.
“She used to tell me they looked like catcher’s mitts, and I’d tell her it was why I did so much better in school; I caught every word.”
Hannah smiled. “That’s clever.” She hesitated briefly, then asked, “Where is she now?”
By the starkness of his expression, Hannah already knew. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“When did it happen?” She couldn’t stop the question, even if she’d wanted to. It was the first time Blake had ever given away something so personal about himself, and she wanted to know everything. Was she the reason for Blake’s black moods? She had never lost anyone close to her, but she could fully imagine a time when her parents would be gone. That was heart-wrenching enough, but to lose your spouse so young?
“Two years ago.”
Hannah opened her mouth to ask more questions but noticed the tense set of his shoulders; causing him more pain was unthinkable.
Then, to her surprise, she boldly stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head against his chest.
She didn’t say anything else, just hugged him, offering comfort and empathy without a sound.
Slowly, she felt him move, his hands sliding across her back until his arms were looped around her waist, holding her against his body.
Hannah closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of the hard wall of his chest under her cheek, to the thump of his heartbeat steadily drumming. He smelled of spicy cologne and the musk of sweat beneath, something that should have been unpleasant but instead was actually very sexy.
Suddenly, she wanted to snuggle deeper. To chase away his pain and bring back that smile that turned her knees to mush.
Stroking her hands over his back, she turned slightly and, before she lost her nerve, kissed his chest.
They both froze, and it took Hannah a minute or two to work up the courage to look him in the eye. When she did, he was staring at her intensely, his hazel eyes blazing.
And then he kissed her.
BLAKE WISHED HE could call it a mistake, but the minute his lips touched Hannah’s, it felt too good to pull back. Her mouth softened automatically, and the kiss was a mix of salty and sweet as their tongues brushed together.
It had been so long since he’d been touched, let alone held, that when she’d put her arms around him so lovingly, he hadn’t been sure what to do.
And then she’d kissed his chest, a comforting gesture that had been his undoing.
The moment she’d looked up at him, he knew he was going to kiss her. He might regret it later, but there was no way to resist her after that.
Blake’s hands came up to cradle her face, and he slanted his head to deepen the kiss. Shocks of desire raced from his mouth down his body, settling into his groin. The whole time he’d been training her in self-defense, he’d been aware of her. Of his reaction to her, and it was finally too much. He needed to feel that sliver of happiness that only came in her presence since . . .
Jenny’s face surfaced, shattering the moment like a hammer against a mirror.
What am I doing?
He pulled away, nearly stumbling back to put some distance between them.
“Blake?” The way she said his name, husky and dazed, was so fucking hot he tried to push back his qualms, to tell himself that Jenny was gone and he could kiss Hannah without feeling any guilt.
But as he stared at Hannah, Jenny’s blue eyes swam through his mind.
Two years was really all Jenny meant to me? God, I’m an asshole.
“Blake? Are you okay?”
Blake blinked at Hannah, clearing his vision, and realized that he wasn’t at all okay. That he had no right to drag Hannah into his fucked-up crazy life and kiss her until they were both gasping for breath. His chest was still heaving, partly from panic, but mostly from Hannah and his reaction to her.
Which made her dangerous to his heart and his peace of mind. Hannah was beautiful, kind, and funny. She deserved someone who wasn’t still dreaming of his dead wife. She needed someone without bag
gage.
“I am so sorry I did that.”
Blake wasn’t prepared for the way her face fell, for the excitement to drain from her eyes and be replaced by hurt and confusion.
“Okay.”
Hannah didn’t say anything more, just went over to where her sweatshirt was and pulled it over her arms.
“Hannah, wait, it has nothing to do with you—”
“Please don’t give me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech.” The snap in her tone surprised him, and he took a step back as she spun around to face him. Shy, sweet Hannah had been replaced by a firecracker whose expression said she was ready to give him a piece of her mind. “You can regret doing something, but don’t insult my intelligence by kissing me and then saying it was a mistake, that it has nothing to do with me, because it is bull. Kissing someone implies that you wanted to kiss them, but for whatever reason, you changed your mind, so you stopped. That is all it is. You don’t have to lie or make up some excuse about why it’s not my fault that you don’t find me attractive—”
“I do find you attractive. That’s the problem.”
“Why is being attracted to me a problem?” she asked.
How did he put all of his feelings into words without sounding like a complete head case? Even with Jenny, he’d struggled with communication and putting his emotions into perspective for her. Now Hannah was standing there, asking him to lay his shit bare and tell her all the reasons why he shouldn’t want her?
Why did women have to have everything spelled out for them?
“Because I’m not ready for anything beyond friendship right now.”
Hannah slowly nodded, walking toward the door. She paused with her hand on the knob and turned.
“Just a word of advice, but if you aren’t ready for anything more than friendship, then you shouldn’t go around kissing women like that.”
She pushed out of the door and out of sight before he could tell her he didn’t kiss other women like that. That she was the first since Jenny. But then she might read more into that than he intended.
Just let her go. It’s better this way.
“What the hell did you do?”
Blake caught Best standing in the doorway, looking incredulous.
“I kissed her.”
Best’s eyebrows shot up, and he came in fully, shutting the door behind him. “And your breath was rancid?”
“No, I . . . I stopped it.”
Best dragged in a deep sigh that reeked of exasperation. “Why? That girl obviously likes you, and you’ve got some weird thing for her.”
“Why is it weird?” Blake asked.
“Because if any other woman gets near you, you act as though they have the plague, but you offered to give this girl self-defense lessons. You fucking smell good, dude, which means you snuck into the kid’s showers and cleaned up before she got here, which tells me you care what she thinks.”
“I do.”
“Then why are you standing in here? Go out there and tell her you’re an idiot.”
Blake shook his head. Best didn’t understand. If he chased her down with anything but an apology and an invitation for a date, she was going to be pissed. He’d bungled their first kiss so badly; he wouldn’t blame her if she never spoke to him again.
I AM SUCH a stupid, desperate idiot.
Hannah pulled her keys from her pocket and unlocked her car door, slumping into her front seat with a cry of frustration. She usually never lost her temper like that, but she also didn’t let people walk all over her.
She was so angry with Blake, but mostly with herself. Why would she think it was okay to let Blake kiss her after he had just told her about his dead wife?
Because you wanted him too much to move away.
It was true, but how in the hell was she going to face him if he came into Dale’s? He’d tried to let her down easy, to explain that although he’d had a moment of weakness, he wasn’t ready, and she’d blown up at him. She was a jerk.
A knock on her window made her jump, and she turned to find Blake standing outside her car in the dark, waving at her.
“Sorry for scaring you. Can we talk?”
Hannah was so tempted to take the coward’s way out and escape, but she was an adult, and avoiding your problems was just something you didn’t do.
She opened the door and climbed out, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Sure, what do you want to talk about?”
“Hannah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
She couldn’t look him in the eye as she scoffed. “Embarrassed? Me? No, I’m fine. Really.”
“Okay, well good. Because if you . . . if maybe you thought . . . ah, hell. I am screwing this all up. As attractive as I think you are, it’s not just that my wife died. She was murdered, killed while another soldier was having a psychotic break in our Base Exchange. It was just the wrong place at the wrong time, but I have a lot of unresolved stuff I’m still working on, and I really don’t feel like it’s fair to drag you into it. I like you, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
Hannah didn’t want to tell him that she was already hurt; it seemed like a petulant move for such a heartfelt admission.
Hannah reached out to lay her hand on his arm. “I am so sorry.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t change anything. She’s still gone and I’m still here, and I just . . . I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I just got caught up in the moment.”
Me, too.
Trying to muster a smile for him, she said, “I’m sorry for flying off the handle. It’s just, I’ve liked you for a while. I still think you shouldn’t kiss someone unless you mean it, but I understand that you aren’t looking for anything.”
His smile spread across his face, a flash of white in the dark. “I like spending time with you. I’d still like to finish our lesson sometime, and maybe we can still be friends?”
Ugh, the f word.
The last thing she wanted was to be just friends with Blake.
But she also didn’t want to give up being around him. Of seeing his hazel eyes light up or hearing his amazing voice saying her name.
Dear Lord, she was pathetic.
“Sure, we’re good. We can hang out and do things and be just friends.” The words were like salmon bones in her throat, hard to get out, and she almost choked on them.
“That sounds really good, actually,” he said.
“Then it’s settled. You have my number, if you ever want to talk or hang out.” At least she sounded cool and casual, if she didn’t exactly feel it.
“I will, and thanks for understanding.”
She nodded, climbing into her car and closing the door. He moved away from the car, and Hannah gave him a little wave as she backed out of the space.
Of all the ways she’d imagined the night ending, that had not been any of the scenarios.
Chapter Twelve
HANNAH’S CELL RANG the next afternoon just as she was getting on the freeway on her way to her substitute teaching job in West Sacramento, and she tapped the answer button on her car’s stereo screen.
“Hey, Nicki.”
“What’s up? You sound down.”
Hannah grimaced. It was the third time someone had commented on her sour mood. Kenny had asked her if she’d left her smile at home, and Chloe had asked her if she was okay right before she left. Luckily, Blake hadn’t stopped in to see how glum she was.
With Nicki, though, she could be completely honest about what was eating her. Twenty years of friendship had given her that.
“Oh, I’m fine. Just got a big fat no thanks from a guy I liked last night. No big thing.”
“What a dick! What did he say? I will beat his ass!”
Hannah laughed a little. “No, really, it wasn’t like that. He was really nice about it, even gave me the ‘it’s him and not me.’ ”
“Oh, hell no, that is some bullsh—”
“Nicki, really, he’s got his reasons, and they are good on
es. His wife was murdered two years ago, and he’s just not ready to date.”
“Oh, well, then I’ll refrain from trash talking. This is actually good for my next announcement.”
Hannah groaned, passing a slow-moving car. “Please tell me you haven’t set up another blind date.”
“Better! I got us tickets to this awesome single ladies’ ball on Valentine’s Day!”
“A ball? Like poofy gowns and tiaras kind of ball?”
“Hell yeah!”
“And how is that better?”
“Don’t be a party poop head! It’s gonna be like freaking prom, baby!”
Considering she’d skipped prom in lieu of a plate of nachos and a Gossip Girl marathon, she had no response to that.
“But what about our anti-Valentine’s Day? Horror movies? Junk food? You want to give all that up?” It was actually one of her favorite traditions, one that had started when Nicki and she were twelve and weren’t invited to Kelsey Wilson’s first boy-girl party. Since then, even if Nicki or Hannah had a boyfriend, they would ditch them to have their traditional Valentine’s Day together.
“Oh, come on, Han, it will be great. We can break tradition this once. We’ll go shopping, and get our hair and nails done. Maybe our makeup. When is the last time you went and got pampered?”
It had been her last birthday. She’d gone to get a pedicure, and it had been great except she’d almost kicked the woman in the face. The curse of ticklish feet.
“It’s been a while, but I don’t know if I want to spend my Valentine’s Day dressed like Cinderella with no prince.”
“That is the best part! Princes will be provided. It’s some charity event, and they will have a ton of guys from the base there to dance with us and tell us we’re pretty.”
“Military guys?” Thinking of Blake, a scene flashed through her mind of her in a cream-colored gown, her hair atop her head in a riot of curls, and Blake staring at her as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
“Hannah? Did I lose you?”
“No, I’m here.”
“So, what do you say? And before you say no, the tickets cost me fifty bucks each and I really want to go, but I need my best friend so I don’t look like a loser.”
