I wondered how long it would have taken him to get to Hannah, had I not broken down and told him after Randy, the town dick, had earned the business end of Vaughn’s fist.
I knew I’d always be Mutt, and there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it, but at least there was one person who saw me as Hannah. And, if I had to choose, I was glad it was him.
“I had a good night, too,” I said as he pulled onto the gravel lane at my house. The rain was beating down so hard at that point I knew for sure I’d be soaked by the time I reached my door.
“So you think you like me a tiny bit more than just a little yet?”
I laughed. He had to know better. My hard-to-get game wasn’t that strong.
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“What do I think?” He repeated while putting the SUV in park, after pulling as close to my front door as he could get it, driving up in our grass. That alone made me warm on the inside.
“I think you looked so good tonight that I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. I think every time you laugh a timer starts, and I tick down the seconds until I hear it again. I think that I’m going to need a serious cold shower when I get home. I think I’m really glad, regardless of how I got it, that I know your name now. I think it suits you—if I didn’t tell you that already. I think that I like that granite in my kitchen more than I did before. I think I miss that van,” he said, looking in the back of the Escalade, which was a whole hell of a lot nicer than Dad’s old Astro van. “There’s a lot more open space in the back of that classic. And let’s see … I think there are too many hours in between now and tomorrow.”
My mouth watered, wanting to taste his lips, as he grew closer. Lips that were saying some of the most simply perfect things. He adjusted so that he could get closer, apparently I was frozen in place, and I appreciated his struggle, liking that he did something about it when he couldn’t reach me.
I wasn’t sure if I knew how it felt to fall in love, but if it was anything like that moment, I’d been a wise fool to wait that long. At the same time, I’d been so blind, believing I didn’t care about having someone all my own, and I was loving the discovery. Glad that I’d waited for something better than a town leftover. Because I was so pleased in that moment to be there—with him. It was almost validation that good things do come to those who wait, and maybe that was just what I’d been doing all along.
He went on. “I think kissing you is better each time. I think your eyes look even prettier when I’m this close. I think I could go on, but I’d rather you kiss me goodnight.”
I didn’t care anymore if the things he said sounded cheesy. It’s not cheesy when it’s real.
I leaned closer, the only inch he gave me, and traded it in for his mouth on mine. It was a good trade.
This kiss was slower and it made my neck weak and my shoulders slump forward into it. Leisurely, he proved that although our previous kisses—like pushing the throttle forward on my boat, wind rushing through my hair—were exhilarating, slowly floating along in the warm sun felt just as nice.
For unrushed minutes we floated together, the rain pounding down on the roof, me in his passenger seat, dressed up like a woman on a mission, praying that it wasn’t all too good to be true.
When I finally went inside, I saw my dad in his recliner, snoring like a bear, and a can of soda next to his chair. I grabbed the blanket off the couch and covered him up.
He blinked a few times, still drunk and more than half asleep.
“I miss you so much, Katie,” he said, his voice lenient and sad.
“Good night, Dad,” I said and kissed his forehead. He must have been pretty drunk to call me by my mother’s name. I couldn’t imagine how much he missed her, or even why he’d still be thinking about her after what she’d done.
I wished he’d move on and find someone who’d love him like he deserved. It killed me to think that he’d be lonely forever.
Upstairs, I got in my bed and thought about everything that had happened, but it all came back to one thing.
I liked Vaughn a lot.
I liked me with him a lot, too.
For as late as it was when I went to bed, I rose with the chickens. Well, we didn’t have chickens, but you know what I mean. I slept well, not waking once, and popped out of bed, hitting the ground running, like it was the first real day of summer.
And since I was getting the boat out for the first time that year, it kind of was.
I was showered and dressed before seven.
I’d packed an overnight bag and grabbed some clean towels for the cabin.
I had about an hour before the store opened. There were things I needed to grab for my day, and hopefully night, while I was in town.
As I put my to-go mug under the coffee pot, I heard my dad stir in the living room, pushing the forever-broken-foot part of the recliner into the chair.
“Morning?” I asked more than offered.
I peeked in there to see what kind of state he was in. I could count on one hand how many times I’d seen my dad that wasted, and I was sure he wasn’t going to be very good company, at least until after lunch.