Page 75 of Claim to Fame

“From both of us,” her mother amended. “We’re just so darn proud of you, Hannah.”

“Thanks, Mom. I wish you guys could be there.”

“We’ll be there in spirit. And we already bought tickets to see it at the theater here for Saturday night.”

“Tell her we’re taking Bob Carmichael and his wife,” her father shouted.

“She doesn’t care about Bob Carmichael,” her mother tutted to her father, before saying to Hannah, “You don’t care about Bob Carmichael. But your father is very excited to show you off. And don’t forget to send me pictures tomorrow. I want at least one good photo of you and your young man from the evening.”

“There will be plenty of photos in the press, I’m sure,” Hannah said.

“I don’t want a photo everyone else gets to see. I want the photo you want to send your mother. The photo I would take if I was there to see you off.” Hannah could hear the tears gathering in her mother’s voice. “Just like when you went to prom.”

Hannah groaned. “This is nothing like prom.”

“Maybe I should bring both ties in case something happens,” Ethan said, reappearing in the living room doorway with the same two ties still in his hands.

“Is that him?” her mother asked into the phone. “Let me say hello!”

“Mom, I don’t think—”

“Hannah Matthews, you put that young man on the phone right now.”

Hannah sighed and covered the microphone on her phone with her palm. “My mom wants to say hi to you.” She grimaced. “You don’t have to.”

Ethan dropped the ties on the arm of the couch and held out his hand. “Give me the phone.”

“I can tell her no.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Hand it over, city girl.”

Hannah lifted the phone to her ear again. “Be nice,” she said, before handing it over to Ethan, just as her mother said, “I’m always nice.”

“Hi, Mrs. Matthews. This is Ethan Hart.” He held the phone to his ear, his other hand resting on his hip and his eyes glued to Hannah’s, a playfulness dancing across his face as he listened to her mother on the other end. “Mmhmm, I agree.”

“What’s she saying?”

Ethan pressed his lips together like he was holding back a smile. Ethan chuckled. “You have a very nice voice yourself.”

If she only knew how nice of a voice he has...

Another pause.

“I’ll be forty-five this Saturday, ma’am.”

Oh, not the ‘ma’am.’Her mother would eat that shit up with a spoon.

He laughed again, his eyes sparkling as they skated over her, like he was cataloging the exact way she looked sitting on his couch. “It’s been my pleasure.”

Hannah’s face was hot. Listening to him talk to her mother shouldnotbe a turn on.

“I promise I’ll take good care of her, Mrs. Matthews.”

Hannah groaned and flopped back on the couch, draping an arm over her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Her mother was not giving Ethan a “be good to her” speech. Hannah was thirty-two years old, for God’s sake. And yet, there was something about the gravel in his voice that made his promise feel like it was meant just for her.

“I’d like that,” he said, his lips quirking up in a grin as he watched Hannah, like he knew exactly how goddamn sexy he was. “Take care now.”

He hung up the phone and tossed it on the couch beside her as he crawled over her, the weight of him pressing her down into the soft cushions.

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