Letting Go: A Contemporary Romance of Snark and Feels

by Abbie Zanders

  Oh yeah, we were probably the biggest topic of conversation since Tom Hanks was filming a movie down in Philly and his driver stopped at the Muskrat Falls Mini-Mart for gas and a TastyKake (nobody bakes a cake as tasty, you know).

  Had I been a more devious person, I could have had a great time with this, but as it was, I couldn’t summon the energy.

  “Ethan’s father and mine served together. He’s helping out with dad’s care until the M-Fu-—uh, the home health agency finds someone permanent.”

  “Yeah, I heard about that,” Jake said, nodding empathetically. “Is it true your father threatened one of them with a butcher knife?”

  Okay, I had a little energy. Jake made it hard to resist. “Not exactly. It was a Ka-Bar Zombie knife,” I said, keeping a straight face. “But she was totally asking for it. You don’t mess with a man’s pudding, you know?”

  I saw Jake’s eyes go wide just as I heard a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh coming from the hallway. Ethan. I should have been annoyed that he was skulking around, obviously eavesdropping, but for some reason, knowing he was nearby eased me somewhat.

  “Just a minute, Colonel,” I heard him yell down the hallway. “I’ve got the AK and the gun oil, but I think Hannah hid the ammo in the flour jar again.”

  I had to turn away so Jake didn’t see my smile. He left rather quickly after that, suddenly remembering an ‘important appointment’ (ha!).

  “You were listening,” I accused later, after Jake’s hasty exit.

  Ethan grinned unrepentantly. “Well, you were talking rather loudly. Anyone with their ear to the door would have heard you.”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed before I could stop myself. Ethan had that effect on me. With nothing but a look from those twinkling blue eyes and a quirk of his firm male lips, he weakened my defenses. “How would you like it if I eavesdropped on you?” I asked, flushing slightly as I remembered my ear pressed up against his door earlier that morning.

  He gave me a long, intense look that had heat pooling in an area that should have been satisfied after my morning appointment with BOB. Sessions as intense as that one usually held me for a couple of days at least.

  “What people do in the privacy of their rooms should remain private, don’t you think?”

  I don’t know if it was the tone of his voice or the smolder of those blue eyes, but I suddenly felt very... hot. I knew what I’d done in my room. Did he seek out self-gratification behind his closed door, too? I knew for a fact he hadn’t gone out with anyone since he’d been here. A man with that much testosterone probably had to release the pressure fairly often.

  My mind took another wayward turn. If I did cozy up to his doorframe some evening, would I be able to hear him? If I was in just the right place at just the right time, would I hear the soft slap of palm on hard, velvety flesh? Did he moan, groan, or grunt when he came? What did he imagine in his mind’s eye when he did?

  They were all questions I definitely, definitely, shouldn’t have been asking myself.

  “Definitely,” I finally answered, choking on the word. Next time me and BOB got together -—which was going to be very soon based on the ache in my happy place -—I knew what images were going to go through my mind. Just thinking of him fisting himself with those big hands...

  “Hannah? Did you hear what I said?”

  My eyes snapped up to find him watching me closely. My face burned, as if I’d held it too close to an open flame. “What? No, I’m sorry. Just thinking about the water heater.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. Thankfully, a quick look down confirmed that my jeans remained flame free.

  The look in his eyes said he knew I was full of shit, but he didn’t call me on it. “It’s all fixed?”

  “Yeah,” I said, grateful for the change to a nice, safe topic. “Jake says I’ll probably need a new one soon, though.”

  “I’ll bet,” he muttered. “What else did he say you need?”

  His sarcastic, suggestive tone wasn’t lost on me. “Excuse me?”

  He sighed. I’m pretty sure what he ended up saying was not what he’d originally intended. “You don’t need a new water heater, Hannah. He just wants an excuse to come out here again. He wants you.”

  I laughed, shaking my head in denial. There was no way Jake Schaeffer wanted me. He’d proven that twelve years ago when he’d left me at the prom and skipped out with Cindy Kowalski to have a private party of their own.

  “I doubt it. He wants my business, maybe. You should have seen the way his eyes lit up when he saw the old copper pipes and the state of some of the fixtures.”

  Again, Ethan looked like he wanted to say something. He didn’t.

  “So what did you want?” I asked, hopefully putting an end to this ridiculous discussion on Jake Schaeffer’s ulterior motives. “You were obviously skulking around for a reason.”

  He shrugged, not bothering to deny it. “Your dad said he wanted steaks tonight. I’m not much of a cook, but I’m a boss with a grill.”

  “You’re offering to make my father’s dinner?”

  “Yeah. And yours, too. Steak and potatoes, maybe some of that fresh corn on the cob you picked up at the farmer’s stand down the road. If you want a salad though, you’ll have to make that yourself. I don’t do green.”

  “Deal,” I agreed easily, shoving aside the totally absurd notion that Ethan O’Malley was jealous of Jake Schaeffer.

  Angus

  It did my not-so-old heart good to see my little girl smiling. I sat on the deck, beer in hand, watching her blush each time Cal’s boy managed deliberate “incidental” contact. I had to give it to him. He was smooth.

  You probably think a father watching his daughter get hit on would elicit a different response. Well, you’re probably not dying. Let me tell you, that’s a game changer.

  I’d feel a whole lot better about things if I knew she had someone looking out for her. God knew, I’d sure as hell dropped the ball. When my Maggie died, so did a big part of me. I couldn’t look at Hannah without feeling the crushing grief all over again. She is the spitting image of her mother, except for her eyes. She has my eyes.

  And, apparently, my stubbornness and predilection toward skepticism.

  It was too late for me to undo the damage I did by leaving her with my parents while I threw myself into the job. I’ve never been one for all that Dr. Phil shit either, talking about feelings and whatnot. Hannah knew that about me, and as she seemed to have inherited the same intolerance for touchy-feely bullshit, I knew she understood.

  Actions had always meant more to us than words anyway.

  So if I had the chance to stack the odds so that she ended up with a real man, a good man, who would take care of her the way she deserved, who would build with her the kind of marriage her mother and I had, I sure as hell was going to take it. And the way those two were making eyes at each other, I’d chosen well.

  The phone rang inside the house and Hannah went in to get it. Ethan cast a questioning glance my way and I nodded my approval.

  When Hannah returned a few minutes later, she wasn’t smiling. “Who was that?”

  “Jake.”

  “What did he want?”

  “He wants me to come into town tomorrow and look at some new water heaters.”

  Ethan snorted. I knew he was a smart boy. I also knew that sometimes, fate doesn’t just need a nudge, it needs a good, swift kick in the ass. Have I mentioned that I don’t have a lot of time?

  “You should go,” I said. Both Hannah and Ethan gave me the stink eye. “The thing’s got to be close to thirty years old,” I rationalized with a pointed glare back at my daughter. “Not going to be serviceable much longer.”

  Yeah, I can be a sneaky, shit-stirring bastard.

  “It’s working just fine,” Hannah said, and I delighted at the fire in her tone at my not-so-subtle reference to her biological clock winding down. “Besides, Ethan says we don’t need a new one.”

  He nodded in agreement. Good. The
y were teaming up against me.

  “Ethan’s not a plumber though, is he?” I pointed out. And then, just because I was feeling especially devious, I added, “Didn’t Jake Schaeffer take you to your senior prom?”

  Hannah stiffened, and Ethan went unnaturally still.

  Bullseye.

  Ethan

  “You went to the prom with him?”

  I stalked across the kitchen with the last of the dirty dishes and silverware to where Hannah was rinsing them off and stacking them so I could load them into the dishwasher. She got annoyed the first time I rearranged everything, but eventually she deferred to my superior spatial perception and just let me have it.

  “Yeah.” Her voice was resigned, like she knew the moment we were alone I was going to bring it up. Damn straight.

  “Why?”

  “Does it make a difference?”

  “It might.” In my experience, if a man showed the kind of interest and eagerness Jake Schaeffer had after that many years, then yeah, it fucking mattered.

  “Trust me, it doesn’t.” Hannah refused to meet my eyes.

  “He’s never gotten over you,” I guessed. “And now that you’re back in town, he wants to rekindle the old flame.”

  “Flame?” she laughed, turning on me with the supersized salad tongs pointed menacingly in my direction. “The only reason he took me to prom was because his parents would have shit their pants if he’d taken Cindy Kowalski like he’d wanted to. Which would also explain why he left me stranded at prom and spent the rest of the night up at Mount Lookout banging her brains out.”

  I hadn’t expected that. “What?”

  She’d turned away from me again, but there was no mistaking the quick back-of-the-hand swipe she tried to hide. “You heard me.”

  “What an asshole.” Yep, that’s me. Mr. Sensitive. But she laughed a little in the midst of a half-hiccup.

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “You want to know the best part?”

  Christ, there was more? I nodded.

  “I don’t even think he remembers.”

  I doubted it, but that was me. I might have been biased when it came to Hannah. “I take it back,” I told her. “He’s not just an asshole, he’s a fucking idiot.”

  She looked at me then. I saw the moisture in those big gray eyes, the lingering hurt and embarrassment mixed with gratitude for my last comment, though I could also see that she didn’t believe me. Without conscious effort, my feet closed the gap between us and I was standing only inches away from her. Close enough to feel her body heat and get a whiff of that delicate, feminine fragrance so at odds with her prickly demeanor.

  Her head tilted up and looked straight into my soul. Christ. That little pink tongue poked out of those slightly parted lips and I was lost. Before I knew it, my head was lowering and I was gently sucking it into my mouth, drawing in the taste of something surprisingly sweet and instantly addicting. Was the rest of her just as juicy, just as sweet?

  I felt her hands on my chest, her fingers curling into the thin cotton of my T-shirt as she returned the kiss with equal fervor. In those moments, everything else ceased to exist. I heard nothing but her soft, breathy pants. Scented only her delicate fragrance. Felt only the silk of her hair as my hands clutched her head to tilt her to just the right angle to fully ravish her mouth. My body bowed toward hers, wanting more contact, more heat, more.

  I’m not sure who pulled away first. I just remember I was kissing her, then I wasn’t. When I managed to open my eyes, it was to find hers glassy and dazed, staring at my mouth with something like awe. She blinked, and they cleared, flooding instead with shame.

  She stepped back abruptly and dropped her gaze to the floor. It was all I could do to keep myself from reaching out, pulling her hot little body against mine and finding out once and for all what she was hiding beneath those formless clothes.

  I wanted to kiss her until she lost focus again.

  “That... shouldn’t have happened,” she said. I felt a surge of satisfaction that I had been the one to make her voice go all husky and hitch like that. It made me wonder what kind of sounds she would make as I buried myself deep inside her wet heat and took her to the edge over and over again.

  “Bullshit.” I took a step toward her; she took one back. I felt every bit the big, bad predator I was.

  “It can’t happen again.”

  “Oh, it’s going to happen again,” I promised and took another step. So did she. Her back was up against the counter. She had nowhere else to go.

  “You know it, and I know it,” I told her, bracing my arms on the counter top, caging her in. Her big gray eyes grew even larger. Her pulse skittered rapidly beneath the delicate skin of her neck. I leaned down to nuzzle it, knowing I could make it go even faster.

  She ducked and twisted beneath my arm to escape. I allowed it, this time. There was no guarantee I’d be able to do so again, not after that kiss. If I’d had any doubts that Hannah was the one for me, that kiss had blown them away with extreme prejudice.

  I also knew that I wanted Hannah to come to me on her own. She had some issues, that was clear, and I wanted to help her through them, but she had to be willing to let me. She didn’t fully trust me yet, but she would. Until then, I would be there, doing whatever I could to build that trust.

  The next morning, I was still feeling pretty full of myself. Hannah was avoiding me (even more than usual), which told me she’d been as affected by our kiss as I was. In retrospect, I was glad she’d run last night. The sheer intensity of that kiss had taken me by surprise. I’d expected it to be good. I hadn’t expected it to be that good.

  Like rock my world good.

  Like I-would-have-taken-her-right-there-on-the-counter good. Probably not an advisable move, considering her father had been near enough to hear the cries of pleasure I planned on drawing from her.

  Hannah wasn’t in the kitchen, but breakfast was waiting for me. I lifted the lid from the warming tray and inhaled the heavenly scents of fluffy, scrambled eggs mixed with onions, peppers, and big chunks of ham, along with slabs of thick crusty toasted bread slathered in real butter. My inner caveman grunted in approval. I had the odd urge to pound my chest.

  Like everything Hannah had prepared so far, it was delicious. I ate every last bite and washed it all down with some excellent coffee, strong and fresh, before heading in to the colonel. We’d set a morning routine right out of the gate that was working well for all of us.

  It went something like this: Hannah rose early and went for a morning run. Then she and Angus shared breakfast together, though from what I could gather, she only ate those damn protein bars. Then I came in, did some PT, helped him with whatever else he needed till lunchtime while Hannah grabbed a shower and then holed herself away in her office for a few hours.

  Simple, but like I said, it worked. It gave me a chance to find out more about this woman who had captured my interest so effortlessly. Colonel McGinnis was a great source of information, but I learned a lot from simply being around her, too. And every day, she unknowingly drew me in farther.

  I liked to think I was having some kind of effect on her as well. Acclimating her to my presence. Doing little things to make her life easier, like taking it upon myself to fix things around the house, mow the lawn, even tune up her car. I know she appreciated it. Not because she came out and said so beyond a polite ‘thank you’, but because she made me breakfast and included my laundry in with hers and her father’s.

  Actions spoke a hell of a lot louder than words in my opinion, and not only had she accepted me as a part of her daily life, but she was depending on me more and more, too. I wanted her to get to the point where she couldn’t imagine a day without me in it, because I’d already hit that point where she was concerned.

  I stuck my head in her office, surprised to find it empty. Maybe she was still in with her father. Or getting a shower. Thoughts of a naked, soapy Hannah had me adjusting myself and concentrating on the steps involved in stripping down an
assault rifle before walking into her father’s room.

  Hannah wasn’t there, and the telltale rush of water in the ancient pipes above me was noticeably absent. It bothered me. I’d come to need my morning Hannah fix as much as I needed my coffee. There was something about seeing her first thing, all flushed and pretty from her morning run, that put me in a good mood and set the tone for the rest of the day.

  “Morning, Colonel. Where’s Hannah?” I asked casually. The Colonel wasn’t fooled for a minute. His lips quirked.

  “Something you want to tell me, Sergeant?”

  “Permission to speak freely, Colonel?” He nodded, looking more amused than ever.

  “I kissed your daughter, sir.”

  To my surprise, he started chuckling. “Ah, well, that explains it.”

  “Colonel?”

  “Must have been a hell of a kiss, son. I haven’t seen Hannah so out of sorts in a long time.”

  It was hard not to feel a little smug after that comment.

  “The flowers were a nice touch, too.”

  “Flowers, sir?”

  My confusion must have been evident; the amused glint in his eye grew stronger. “Ahhh. Not from you then.”

  Who was sending Hannah flowers? The image of that douchebag plumber came to mind. Oh, hell no. He had his chance twelve years ago. His loss, my gain.

  “You have your work cut out for you, son.”

  The grin I gave him was genuine. “I do like a challenge, sir.”

  Chapter 10

  Hannah

  Flowers. No one had ever sent me flowers before. Gertie Hausenberg looked like she was just about ready to birth a litter of kittens when she rolled out of her truck and handed me the fragrant, colorful bouquet. Only a couple of years older than me, Gertie had held the title of town gossip even back in high school.

  With the tragic death of my mother, my father’s disappearance, and my prom disaster, my life had been the equivalent of an all-you-can-eat buffet for Gertie. Oh, and she’d been Cindy Kowalski’s best friend back then, too, which meant that I really, really didn’t like her.