Hook, Line, and Sinker (Bellinger Sisters #2)

Bounce the quarter off the table. Land it in the pint glass.

But in Cross and Daughters, there was a twist. Every time a player landed a quarter in the glass, they had to tell the entire bar an embarrassing fact about themselves. The tradition started one night when a sunburned tourist decided to play quarters and was somehow convinced this rule was the norm. What started as a way to razz an out-of-towner had become standard game play.

Hannah hadn’t even flinched at the rules, just nodding as if they made perfect sense. Not for the first time, he marveled over how easily she fit into this place, like she’d always been there. She’d come here last summer and gotten a part-time job at Disc N Dat, melding seamlessly with the younger generation slowly making their mark on this old fishermen’s town. What would life here be like if the pair of Bellingers hadn’t shown up? Brendan would still be wearing his wedding ring, years passing as he turned harder, more closed off. Fox . . .

Nothing would be different on his end, he thought hastily.

He’d be exactly the same.

So, all right. Maybe he wouldn’t be standing on the edge of the crowd, with a smile on his face a mile wide, watching Hannah laugh so hard she could barely stand up. There was no helping it. She felt like the sunrise coming up over the water after a bad storm. And she was terrible at quarters. Her only saving grace was that Piper was worse.

Both of their quarter rolls had run out before getting a single one in the glass. Now they were scooping quarters off the floor into their pockets and getting back in position, trying to compete while doubled over in laughter. Fox wasn’t the only one held in complete thrall, either. The locals were enamored with both sisters, but he couldn’t for the life of him take his eyes off Hannah. The entire place surrounded the girls, cheering them on—and finally, finally, Hannah got a quarter in the glass, sending the customers into a frenzy.

“What’s your embarrassing fact?” Fox shouted over the noise.

Hannah cringed. “I failed my driver’s test because I kept changing the radio station.” She held up some fingers. “Three times.”

“What she lacks in concentration behind the wheel, she makes up for in driving me home from jail,” Piper added, laying a kiss on Hannah’s cheek. “Just kidding, Louise!” she called to her gaping mother-in-law, sending her and Hannah into a fit of hysterics. She almost lost her balance completely, and Fox figured that was his cue to take her home.

He set his half-empty beer down on the closest table and approached Hannah, acutely aware of everyone within earshot, including Piper and Brendan. They were already wary of Hannah staying in his spare room. Every word out of his mouth, every action was being scrutinized to gauge his interest and intentions. The last thing Fox wanted was another “talk” from Brendan. He’d had enough of those on the boat.

So he tried to sound as casual as possible when he stopped in front of Hannah, ducking down a little to her level until their eyes met. “Hey, I’m heading home if you want to walk with me.” Briefly, he met Brendan’s eyes. “Or stay and get a ride. It’s up to you.”

Without a doubt, if she went with option number two, Fox knew he’d sit in his room and wait until she was safely inside.

“I should definitely go now if I don’t want to be a zombie on set tomorrow,” she said, turning and throwing her arms around Brendan and Piper. “I love you guys. See you soon.”

“We love you, too,” Brendan said, patting her on the head and earning heart eyes from his wife. Not that he saw it, because he was busy giving Fox a death stare.

Right.

It was easy to see what his friend was trying to communicate to him.

Walking out of the bar with Hannah would send the wrong signal. A bad one. Get everyone’s tongues wagging and ultimately make her look bad. God, that was the last thing he wanted. He needed to be more careful. As of now, they’d kept her temporary stay in his guest room pretty quiet, but leaving the bar together on a Saturday night would whip up any speculation that might already be brewing.

“I’ll meet you outside,” Fox said in a rush, turning and walking blindly through the crowd with a pit in his stomach. When he stepped out into the cool spring mist, he couldn’t resist looking back through the window from where he’d just come, watching Hannah wave to everyone on the way out, getting caught up in long good-byes, until finally she joined him in the nighttime shadows.

Without a word, Hannah linked their arms together, laying her head against Fox’s shoulder, the show of trust cementing right over the hole in his belly.

“Jesus, Freckles,” Fox said, tracing the part running down the center of her head. “We need to work on your quarters game.”

She gasped. “What do you mean? I won!”

“Ah, no. You were the least-worst loser.”

Her laughter rang down the misty street. “What is the advantage of winning when you have to tell people something embarrassing about yourself? It’s backward.”

“Welcome to Westport.”

She sighed, rubbed her cheek against his arm. “On nights like this, I think I could live here.”

Fox’s heart lurched so hard he had to wait a moment to speak. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. But then I remember what a crazy idea that is. I can’t live in Westport and continue working in entertainment. And the bar . . .” She smiled. “The bar is Piper’s.”

Well, that’s that. Right?

How the hell would he handle it if Hannah moved here, anyway? He’d see her constantly. Every Saturday night would be like this. Pretending to her and everyone watching that he didn’t want to take her home. Really take her home. And once that happened, well. He’d be screwed. He’d have broken his own rule about not hooking up in Westport, fucked his relationship with Brendan, and potentially hurt Hannah’s feelings. It was best for everyone if she stayed in LA.

But tell that to the disappointment so heavy that it almost dragged him down to the cobblestones.

They turned right on Westhaven and crossed the street, walking along the water without verbally agreeing to it. “Do you love the ocean as much as Brendan does?”

There she went, asking him questions that made him think. Questions that wouldn’t allow him to skate by with a quip—and he didn’t really like doing that with Hannah, anyway. He liked talking to her. Loved it, actually, even when it was hard. “I think we love it in different ways. He loves the tradition and structure of fishing. I love how wild nature can get. How it can be more than one thing. How it evolves. One year, the crabs are in one place, the next they’re in another. No one can . . . define the ocean. It defines itself.”

Hannah must have been holding her breath, because she blew it out in a rush. “Wow.” She looked out over the water. “That’s lovely.”

He tried to ignore the satisfaction of being acknowledged and understood because of something that came out of his mouth. It wasn’t often that happened to him. But he couldn’t shrug it off, so he just let it settle in.

“Okay, I think you’ve convinced me. I want to hunt king crabs.” Hannah nodded firmly. “I’m going to be your newest greentail.”

He couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

She better be joking.

“A rookie is called a greenhorn—and that isn’t happening, babe. You can’t even keep your balance during quarters.” An actual shiver blew through him thinking of Hannah on the deck, fifteen-story waves building in the background. “If you hear me screaming in the middle of the night, you’re to blame for my nightmares.”

“I can just be in charge of the music on the boat.”

“No.”