Series: Chicago Sin Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
I climb on the bed and sit with my back against the wall beside her while she takes a tentative sip of the coffee and then moans softly.
“It’s good?” I ask.
“So good. What is it?”
“Just a latte.” I look at her curiously.
“It’s stronger than I usually get. Or, less sweet. I usually get the kind with all the sugar and syrups and stuff. I didn’t think I’d like it this way.”
She’s talking to me like everything’s normal. It eases some of the chaos in my chest that’s been there since I made her cry last night.
I open the paper bag of food and hand her the wrapped breakfast sandwich then take out mine. Her kitten, Shadow, jumps onto the bed and pads over, purring. I eat my sandwich, careful not to let any crumbs fall onto the bed and ignore the little thing, but he chooses my lap to curl up in, his little paws playing the piano on my thighs.
I finish eating and push the wrapper back into the paper bag. The kitten stands up to investigate, putting his little nose in the bag then reaching a paw in to touch the crinkly paper.
He’s still purring.
I open the mouth of the bag and change the angle, so he can get in, and he crouches down and slips inside, turning around and making the bag bump and move as he does.
Hannah makes a small sound of amusement beside me.
It’s cute. I know it is, but I don’t quite feel it. It’s like the centers in my brain where all that shit takes place got turned off. I picked up that kitten last night when we first got here. Looked right in its face, knowing intellectually it was cute as hell, trying to feel something, but I hadn’t. Same as how I didn’t feel anything when I hugged my mom at that welcome home party. And a mom-hug is usually the thing that brings on all the emotions, even if they’re mostly shame and regret.
But Hannah’s tears did something to me last night. She makes me feel.
That’s something.
She’s still eating, her bites delicate, and her chewing slow. I climb out of bed and pick up my coffee, carrying it to the bathroom where I search for a razor and shave my face.
When I come out, Hannah’s getting dressed. She’s wearing a grey t-shirt dress that hugs her every curve, with a white lace midriff top layered over it. She has on an artsy pair of chunky sandals in turquoise, tan and orange. Her toes peek out, toenails painted hot pink with tiny white flowers. I want to suck on those toes.
She turns to face me, her face taut. She’s nervous.
Fuck. Is she afraid of me now? I should be glad, but it’s like getting kicked in the gut.
“I have to go to the shop.” There’s a challenge in her words, but a slight twitch in her lips belies her bravado. “I have flowers to sell, and if I don’t sell them, I can’t pay the bills.” She lifts her chin, her nostrils flaring slightly as she pins me with her demanding gaze.
“What time?” I ask mildly. I’d kinda figured she had to work. I’d seen the hours posted in her window.
She blinks a moment, like she’s surprised I didn’t say no. “I open at noon.”
I glance at the clock. It’s already ten. “You ready?”
Her body springs to life, and she takes a quick step toward the bathroom then stops. “Um… what’s happening, Armando?”
“I’m staying on you, Hannah—until I’m sure. So we’re both going to the shop.”
“This is crazy.” She mutters and pushes past me to enter the bathroom, but the tension’s gone out of her. Like before, it seems she’s more worried about her business than she is about me. And for some reason, that lightens my mood, too.
I pull her purse out of the cupboard where I stowed it and grab her charger from the desk. I put her phone in my back pocket.
She comes out of the bathroom with makeup on and a colorful piece of fabric wrapped around her head, keeping her curls out of her face. She’s wearing mascara, and her lips have a sheer color on them. I want to kiss it off, but I know better than to try.
“Let’s go.” There’s another challenge in her posture.
I hand her the purse and take the keys.
“This is so weird,” she says when I lock her door behind us. “I am trying to roll with this situation, but if I think about it too hard, I’m pretty sure I will flip out,” she says as we walk down the stairs.
I put my hand lightly on her back. I shouldn’t touch her—not after last night—but her body’s irresistible. I want to have my hands all over her, all the time. “I’m amazed you haven’t, Flowers.” I rub my forehead. “You’ve shot straight to the top of my list.” I stop myself because I don’t even know what the fuck I’m saying. Only that it’s true. She is way at the top of my list. Of everything.