Happy Hour

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Happy Hour Page 8

by Piper Rayne


  Reed’s deep chuckle interrupts us. “You guys are horrible. The man is trying to win her over. You act like he’s plotting her murder.”

  We both whip our heads over to him.

  “He’s not trying to win me over. He’s trying to get up my skirt.”

  Reed’s face turns a nice shade of red. “Well, I can’t say I wasn’t trying to get up Vic’s, but I wanted more than just that.”

  Victoria glances over her shoulder out the patio door to find Jade and Lucy running around the small backyard. Well, Jade’s hopping on all fours and Lucy’s pouncing back not really understanding the game.

  “Roarke Baldwin doesn’t exactly scream carpool man.”

  Reed shrugs, filling a cup full of milk. “No offense, Hannah, but you don’t exactly scream carpool woman.”

  Victoria smacks him on the chest. “Reed!”

  I wave her off with my hand. “No, he’s right.”

  “Do you ladies want my opinion?” Reed sets a cup down in front of Jade’s plate.

  “Not really,” Victoria says, patting his cheek as she walks by.

  “I don’t need to hear bullshit. Marriage is off the table for me. If Roarke is expecting more than to get up my skirt he’s going to be disappointed.”

  It’s not until the words fall from my mouth that I realize what I just said.

  The two of them are staring at me and my eyes widen.

  “Not that he’s getting that either.” I shoot them a look that dares either of them to say any different.

  “Well, then I’d go with Victoria’s plan because I’m not sure Roarke Baldwin is used to not getting what he wants.” Reed grabs a beer and heads to the patio door. “Jade, it’s dinner time.”

  She looks up and heads back inside.

  “Why do we keep referring to him by his full name? Like he’s the president or someone important,” I grumble.

  Victoria sits down at the table, her eyes focusing anywhere but on me.

  “What?” I ask.

  Jade points to Lucy and dictates for her to sit before she’ll give her a treat. With any luck, that dog will be fully trained when I return.

  “Nothing,” she says and shrugs.

  “Vic?”

  She looks at Reed and they exchange a look. “I just think he’s like a five-year-old with a candy bar.”

  “Meaning?”

  Jade begins to walk toward the table, but Victoria directs her attention over to her daughter. “Wash your hands, sweetie.”

  Once we hear the hall bathroom faucet start, Victoria sets her eyes on me.

  “I’m just suggesting that he doesn’t seem to have a lot of willpower when it involves you.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” Reed asks, bending over her chair and kissing her neck. “I had no self-control when it came to you.”

  Her hand lands on the side of his head and his lips never move. “I guess it depends if Hannah wants the attention. I did.”

  He whispers something I can’t hear and his lips don’t stop devouring her neck.

  “Ew!” Jade screams. “Not in front of the kid.”

  Reed doesn’t stop though and Victoria doesn’t move away.

  “Love is a beautiful thing,” Victoria mumbles to her daughter.

  Jade meets my gaze and she rolls her eyes. “I don’t agree. I love Henry, but neither one of us will ever be doing that.” She twirls her finger in a circle near her temple.

  Reed sits down in a chair between Victoria and me. “We’ll see about that.”

  Jade rolls her eyes again, something I notice she’s gotten very good at.

  “Watch it,” Victoria warns and I can’t believe they’re already at that age. Jade having an attitude.

  “Don’t you think so, Hannah?” Jade picks up a fork and waits for me to respond.

  “Totally. I never want anything like that.” I smile over my forkful of food, purposely dodging Victoria’s look. “One and done is my motto.”

  I place my hand up in the air and Jade high fives it. Sad that the only person who gets me in this room is the eight-year-old.

  Chapter Thirteen

  At seven pm on the dot, a grey SUV stops alongside the curb of my condo building downtown. The low hum of energy surrounding my body that seems to be ever present whenever he’s near, tells me it’s Roarke.

  “See you Sunday, Nate,” I say to my doorman. “If I don’t return by Sunday night, find that man.”

  I point to Roarke exiting his vehicle and ignoring the honking horns and taxi drivers flipping him off because he’s double parked.

  Nate steadily walks across the foyer of the building and opens the door for him.

  “Good evening,” he says to Roarke.

  Roarke nods before his gaze falls on me. His teeth lock over his bottom lip and his gaze flies down my body lighting off sparks inside me like flint to steel. Nate lets the door close and moves to retrieve my bags, but Roarke beats him, snatching up the bags at my feet.

  “I thought you’d have more,” he says, a smile tipping his lips up.

  “Are you saying that you expect me to be high maintenance?”

  He shrugs one shoulder. “You are Hannah Crowley.”

  “Now who’s making assumptions?” I follow him out of the safety of my condo building. “Thank you, Nate. Please take down the license plate number should anything happen to me.”

  Roarke glances over his shoulder, lightly shaking his head.

  “You are sort of kidnapping me.”

  He places my bags into the back of what I now see is a high-end Range Rover. Like the man would drive a Ford.

  “If memory serves, you’re getting something for coming with me.” His hand moves up in the air, telling Nate to not open my door. Nate slinks back toward the building. He’s obviously used to arrogant men like Roarke who like to tell him how they want things to go.

  “Have a good trip, Ms. Crowley,” he calls out before he re-enters the building.

  “Thank you, Nate.”

  Roarke opens the passenger door for me.

  I climb inside and turn to address him. “I suppose you’re right, but I still think three nights is pushing the envelope of what can be considered a favor.” I place my purse on the floor near my feet, relax into the leather seat and reach for the seatbelt.

  “As usual, we can agree to disagree.” The door shuts and he rounds the front of the car, looking especially good in his three-piece suit while he continues to ignore the insulting names screamed at him from passing taxi drivers. He sits down in the driver’s seat, inserting the key in the ignition. “You ready?”

  I nod, keeping my head buried in my phone. Good a time as any to organize my apps.

  “Are you going to make me use a favor to get you to ditch your phone?” I can see from my peripheral vision that he doesn’t bother looking at me when he speaks but turns the wheel to enter Chicago traffic.

  “When do you think we’ll arrive?”

  The SUV stops two feet down the road.

  “In about four hours. Sorry, I had a late business meeting and that’s why we’re leaving late. Just think though, it’s less time you have to be around me.”

  For some reason, his words make it clear to me what a bitch I’m being. Yes, I’m here under the pressure of these favors, but he did secure the venue for me and I did agree to the favors in the first place. Clicking my phone screen off, I cross my legs and stare out at the sea of red taillights in front of us.

  “It will probably take us an hour to get out of the city,” I say.

  He looks at the mirrors, his hands on the steering wheel and then swiftly changes lanes. “Yeah, that’s why this isn’t ideal, but it won’t be half as bad as if we left at five.”

  For the next ten minutes, Roarke weaves through the side streets of Chicago like a veteran cabbie. I won’t tell him, but his driving skills are impressive. If I’m truthful, they’re sexy and the truck’s not even a stick shift.

  “Music?” I ask, pointing to the dial.
>
  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  “Anything in particular you feel like?”

  He slams on the brakes, his arm swinging out over to my torso as my body shifts forward on the seat.

  Cars whizz by in front of us. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

  “Impressive mom skills you got there.” I wait for my seatbelt to loosen and reach for the dial on the radio.

  “How do you know I wasn’t just trying to cop a feel?” He glances over at me and a tingle erupts in the pit of my belly.

  “I don’t think you’re that daring at this point.” I scroll through the presets on the radio.

  “Assumptions again. Don’t forget, I am hoping to seduce you, Hannah.”

  Why is it that every time he says my name, it stirs something inside of me?

  “I thought I was just a date to a wedding?”

  “Everyone knows women are more willing to give it up at a wedding.”

  I tilt my head and stare at him for a second. He keeps the act up for a good couple seconds before a laugh bellows out. His lips tip and his smile sends a warm sensation through my body.

  “Did you just make a joke?” I ask with mock astonishment.

  The car speeds up once we reach the freeway clear of the downtown traffic.

  “Some people enjoy my sense of humor,” he says before checking the mirror and changing lanes.

  “Can’t say I’ve ever seen it.”

  Roarke shakes his head at me and presses a radio preset button and classical musical streams through the car. Then he puts his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel and focuses on the road. He hums the tune, oblivious to me watching him.

  We continue sailing down the freeway since rush hour is over, the only sound besides the tires running over the cement are oboes and violins. Roarke switches lanes to pass a slow driver in the left lane, effortlessly moving back into the fast lane.

  So he’s one of those drivers, huh? Not that it surprises me. Never stops or slows, just whizzes back and forth. He’s the guy you hope to see pulled over a few miles ahead, though I will say his arrogant and cocky Mario Andretti driving style suits him.

  “Okay, even I can’t pretend that long.” His long fingers press a dial on his steering wheel and the volume decreases.

  Confused by the whole situation, I glance over and he’s got a shit eating grin on his face.

  “What?”

  “I just put that on because you keep making assumptions about me. I’d never listen to that shit out of choice. You want to know my music? This is what I listen to.” He switches from the radio over to Bluetooth, his phone lighting up in the center console signaling that it’s streaming.

  “Regulate” by Warren G. begins playing.

  I turn my head tilts his way and he raises his eyebrows. “Surprised?”

  I nod toward his phone. “May I?”

  “Please.” He picks up his phone and hands it over to me.

  I scroll through his music and all that’s listed is nineties hip-hop. Snoop Dog, House of Pain, Salt-N-Pepa, LL Cool J. “Vanilla Ice?” I ask.

  He shrugs and a pink tint warms his face. “Don’t even try to deny that you loved that song at one point in your life.”

  I roll my eyes. He’ll never get me to admit that I knew the choreography of that dance video by heart and that my best friends and I used to perform it for each other.

  “Are you going to stop typecasting me anytime soon?” He lowers the volume of the music and shoots over three lanes to head up the north exit ramp.

  “I’d like to survive this trip.” My knuckles whiten on the handle of the door.

  “Sorry, you’re distracting.”

  We follow the signs to Milwaukee. “Wisconsin?”

  He nods.

  “Huh, never would have thought.”

  “I figured.” He eases back in his seat, his hands resting on the bottom of the steering wheel as he slows our speed down.

  I’m reflecting on his musical tastes when something dawns on me. “Why were you listening to the Dave Matthews Band that morning in your house if you’re a hip-hop fan?”

  He doesn’t speak for a beat, but I continue to wait out his answer. Finally he shrugs and says, “I thought something like that would be more your speed.”

  That’s actually kind of sweet.

  When I don’t respond right away he asks, “Do you ever listen to hip-hop?”

  “If it comes on the radio maybe.”

  “I figured.”

  “Who’s assuming now?” I tease.

  He chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Note taken. I did assume you were more of a Backstreet Boys girl.”

  Damn him for hitting it on the mark.

  “Sorry, or was it N’Sync? Ninety-Eight Degrees?”

  I fidget in my seat. “You had it right the first time. Your PI guy must be good.”

  “I only hire the best.” He smirks the usual one that makes my mind conflict on whether I want to slap it or kiss it off his face. Lately, it’s been the latter as much as I try to deny my attraction to him.

  “That’s one thing we have in common, I guess.”

  “Listen, I don’t want to fill this weekend with conversation about how we know each other from the past, but I just want to say…if you’d come to me before Todd, I would have happily represented you.”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to talk about Todd or the circumstances that led me here.” I cross my legs and lean against the passenger window.

  “I’m just saying, you have no idea how hard it was for me when I got the paperwork back from my PI guy. Your beauty and intelligence and strength radiated out of the pictures. I knew the hell he was putting you through. Then when I saw you at the first meeting.” He inhales deeply and pauses for a second. “You have no idea how hard it was for me to keep my composure. For the first time in my career, I wanted to fire my client.”

  My shoulders lose all the tension from the previous mention of Todd’s name. “Why are you telling me this?” I almost whisper.

  His hand reaches over, grabbing mine. “Because I’m not trying to torture you by making you do these favors. I’ve always followed my gut intuition and they’re leading me to you. Has been since the moment I saw you and especially after you opened your mouth that first time and threw a jab my way. There’s something between us worth exploring.”

  He lets go of my hand and I miss the warmth of his skin immediately.

  God, what is wrong with me?

  “I don’t know what to say,” I admit.

  “I don’t want you to say anything. I just want you to be open to the possibility that the anger you have toward me could dissolve into something else.”

  A breath falls from my lips. He’s already figured out one number to the safe I’ve locked myself in since my divorce. I’m not sure I can give him the opportunity to figure out the rest.

  His phone rings over the Bluetooth through the small space of the interior and I’m thankful for the interruption.

  He glances at the dashboard, where I see the word ‘Mom’ on the screen. With a groan, he clicks a button on the steering wheel.

  “Hey, Mom, is this important? I’m busy.”

  “Roarke, your sister is in a panic and she wants to call off the wedding!”

  His gaze shifts to mine. “I’m driving. Let me pull over and call her.”

  “She’s hyperventilating. She swears Wyatt is cheating on her. I don’t think that’s the case. I think she’s making excuses.” His mom sounds traumatized and I feel bad for overhearing what is clearly a family matter. “I swear my own problems with men have turned both of you into a mess of adults who can’t believe someone would love you for you.”

  Again, he glances quickly to me at his side. I try to keep my back straight and eyes out the window like his mom didn’t just out his vulnerability to me.

  “Mom? I have Hannah in the car.”

  “Oh, shoot. I’m so stupid. How did I not realize that?” She pauses. “Hello, Hannah, I’m Edie, Roar
ke’s mom.”

  I look to Roarke for permission to talk which pisses me off the minute I realize I did it.

  “Hello, Mrs. Baldwin.”

  “No, don’t you proper speak to me. It’s Edie.”

  I laugh. “Okay, Edie it is. Feel free to continue your conversation. Don’t mind me.”

  Roarke’s hand moves to the phone, but we pass by a cop sitting in the median and he drops it back down.

  A rule follower. Interesting.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting you,” Edie says.

  “Mom, where is Allie now?”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting you, too, Edie.” I lightly slap his shoulder for interrupting.

  An amused smile crosses his lips.

  “She’s at Daysie’s and you know that girl is just plain trouble. She won’t help Allie see Wyatt loves her. Probably take her out to that dive bar down off the highway to get half pissed instead. Please, Roarke.”

  “Okay, we’re a little over three hours away. I’ll call her now, drop Hannah at the hotel, and then go to Daysie’s if I’m not able to reach her on the phone.”

  “Oh, I’m such an idiot, I forgot to tell you.”

  “What?” There’s an edge that Roarke has with his mom that I recognize from my own relationship with my mother.

  “Well, Wyatt’s uncle was able to get leave and we gave him one of your rooms. I hope that’s okay. I don’t understand why you and Hannah wanted different rooms anyway.”

  My eyes widen and my stomach churns. Could he have concocted this entire plan?

  “Then you have a houseguest for the weekend. I’ll stay with you,” he says, not sounding pleased.

  I guess not.

  “Really? Okay…well… I’ll have to arrange some things.” Her voice is shaky and unsure and I’m wondering who she thinks I am to her son. “I’ll wash some sheets, I’ll run to the store now and get milk and what other health foods do you eat?”

  “It’s okay Mom. I’ll make do.” Roarke shifts in his seat and I’m starting to realize he does this when he’s feeling uncomfortable. “I’ll be there soon. Let me go call, Allie.”

  “Okay. Bye Hannah.”

  “Bye Mrs…Edie.”

  “Can’t wait to meet you and see if you’re as pretty as my son says. Now Roarke, drive responsible especially once you get past the county line. You know Sheriff Wiltaker waits for out-of-towners.”

 

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