“Maybe you should take it up with Hank,” Jet suggested.
“Have a conversation, ” then she smiled like what she said was funny. Daisy smiled too, obviously agreeing.
I didn’t think it was funny.
“Damn tootin’ we’re having a conversation. We’re going to have the conversation to end al conversations,” I declared, stomping up to the espresso counter.
Everyone grinned at everyone else.
I ignored al of them and Uncle Tex made me his latte with chocolate and burnt marshmal ow syrup with a graham cracker on the side.
It was lush.
Five minutes later, Hank walked in.
I felt the air leave my lungs in a rush and decided immediately I was more than happy to move in with him.
I’d forgotten how handsome he was (wel , I hadn’t real y, just that it hit me again and hit me hard).
He looked so good I felt my mouth go dry. He was wearing jeans, running shoes and the col ar of a white t-shirt could be seen over his zipped up, col ared, navy blue sweatshirt.
“Whisky,” I said (or, more like, rasped).
He walked up to me, not saying a word, pul ed my coffee out of my hand, put it on the counter, took my hand in his and dragged (yes, dragged) me toward the bookshelves.
I came out of my Hank Stupor and immediately decided I wasn’t so happy to move in with him.
“Whisky!” I snapped.
He walked us through the front section, through the album section and into the back room.
A lone, male customer was perusing the travel books.
“Can you excuse us?” Hank asked the man.
The customer stared at him.
“I’m looking for a book on India,” he said. “I’m going there on vaca –”
Hank turned to the travel section, pul ed out five books at random and shoved them into the man’s arms.
“Go,” he said.
The man looked from Hank, to me, to Hank, shocked into near-immobility.
“Hank –” I started, feeling sorry for the guy.
Hank leaned into the man.
The man caught the not-so-subtle hint and walked swiftly out of the room.
“I cannot believe you just did that!” I hissed to Hank.
Hank turned to me, backed me into the shelves, and, without further ado, he kissed me.
Long, deep, lots of tongue with his hands going up my sweater.
I went dizzy.
His mouth came away but his forehead rested on mine.
His hands kept roaming the skin of my back and he was looking into my eyes.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he murmured.
Then he rubbed his nose against mine.
Okay, so I was back to deciding I’d move in with Hank.
“I missed you too,” I whispered.
His hands stopped roaming and pressed me deeper into his body.
“Let’s go home,” he said softly.
I stil ed.
“We need to talk about ‘home’,” I said.
“No talk. Tex and I decided.”
I went rock solid and changed my mind again about moving in with Hank.
“You and Uncle Tex decided?” I asked.
“Sunshine –”
“What about me?” I asked, taking my hands from around his neck and planting them on my hips while I pul ed my head away from his.
Hank grinned.
I forgot how great his grin was (wel , not real y, but you know what I mean).
“Let’s go home and I’l convince you,” he suggested.
Good grief.
I had a feeling he could do that.
Stubborn to the last I replied, “We’l go to your place, get my stuff and go to Tex’s.”
Hank shook his head.
“Tex won’t let you move in with him. We’ve talked, he agrees,” Hank told me.
“Then I’l move in with Indy and Lee for awhile.” Hank responded immediately. “Lee won’t let you.” I knew that was true.
“Al y –” I started.
“She loses her Christmas present, she lets you move in with her.”
“You give good Christmas presents?” I asked, curious for more than one reason.
“Concert tickets. Every year.”
Damn.
Al y was out.
“Daisy.” I tried.
His body started shaking with laughter but this time he didn’t bother to answer.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Hank Nightingale…”
He pushed me back into the books, his mouth came to mine and he said softly, “Roxie, move in with me.” Good God.
My heart squeezed and my stomach melted.
I guessed he wasn’t going to back out.
I thought about it (wel , not real y, but I pretended to think about it).
Then I sighed.
“Oh, al right,” I said.
He kissed me again.
So, it wasn’t the conversation to end al conversations.
Whatever.
*
We went back to the front of the store.
I decided to get it over with immediately.
“I’m moving in with Hank,” I announced.
There was general merriment and a good deal of ribbing, mostly at my expense.
I scowled at everyone and nabbed my latte.
“One for the road?” Uncle Tex asked, correctly assuming we weren’t going to hang around.
“Yeah,” Hank said, wrapping an arm around my neck.
Uncle Tex started to make Hank a coffee and I stood, plastered against Hank’s side and felt the ugly scar on that secret, private place inside me that had been ripped apart and then mended. Wel … it just disappeared.