Page 73 of When We Were Us
It wasn’t that I was hiding Derek, or our failed engagement, but that kiss, that...situationbetween me and Hank had changed things. I wasn’t sure I wanted to dredge up all the stuff with Derek. Hank and I were finally making progress, and I didn’t want to mess that up.
He holds open the door for me and we walk through to the kitchen, where we find Mrs. Hayes making lunch.
“There you two are!” she exclaims, wiping her hands on her apron. “I was just making sandwiches. Take a load off and I’ll make you both a plate.”
She smiles at me when I try to protest that the coffee and cake earlier were plenty.
“Nonsense. You two have to be half starved.” She clicks her tongue, ushering us both toward the countertop stools. “And, Wrenley, please call me Emily. I feel as though I should look around for my mother-in-law when you call me Mrs. Hayes.” She laughs.
“Ok, Emily.” I shoot Hank a look and he gives me a wry grin from the other side of the island. He grabs two cans of Pepsi from the fridge and cracks the top on one, handing it to me.
My eyes drop to his damned forearms again and I get the urge to trace those veins with my tongue. I clear my throat.
“Thanks,” I say and take a small sip, dropping my gaze to the remarkably interesting countertop because I could get used to the way Hank is watching me. It’s not the grumpy scowl face he typically reserves for me, but one of playfulness and promise. The one that leads to hands and tongues in fun places.
Mrs. Hayes— Um, Emily, busies herself making ham and cheese sandwiches and filling our plates with cut fruit and potato chips before sliding them across the counter toward us.
“You two enjoy your lunch. I’m off to the community center.” She removes her apron and hangs it on a hook by the stove, patting her hair into place.
“You’re not eating?” Hank asks, his eyes dropping to the plates and then moving to the empty countertop behind her.
It’s clear to us both that we’ve been played. Just making sandwiches, my ass.
“Your father and I are grabbing a bite at the café,” she says, with a small knowing smile, and she pats my hand as she walks by. “And, Wrenley?” she calls as I take a gigantic bit of my ham and Swiss.
I chew quickly and try to swallow it, but it gets stuck to the roof of my mouth. So, I just hum in acknowledgment, turning sideways on my stool to nod at her.
“We’re having the family over Saturday night for Duke’s birthday. I hope you can makeit. I have already invited Finnley. Duke’s not much for cake, but dinner’s at six sharp.”
Hank stiffens beside me, and I finally manage to swallow the lump of food clogging my throat to shake my head. “I couldn’t impose on your family dinner, but thank you for the inv?—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Wrenley. Youarefamily,” she says with a wink, and then she’s gone.
After she leaves, we sit in an awkward silence and eat our lunch. I’ve just finished the first half of my sandwich when Hank finishes his second. All he has left on his plate is a few chips.
A smile touches my lips as I glance at his plate.
He raises a brow. “What?” he says around a particularly large handful of chips he’s just shoved in his mouth.
“There’s the twenty-something kid I used to know.” His body shakes with quiet laughter and his eyes sparkle.
They fuckingsparkle.
“What does that mean?” he asks after swallowing his food and taking a drink of his soda.
I shrug, my smile widening. It feels good to tease him.
“You eat like a caveman.” I spear a ball of melon with my fork and bring it to my lips. His gaze tracks the movement to my mouth, and I’m drawn to the crinkles around his eyes as he smirks at me.
“Never heard you complain about my eating back then.”
There is clear innuendo in his words and, coupled with the heat in his gaze, it has me swallowing hard.
There is no denying he’s referring to that night behind the flour mill. The one when the chief caught us and just missed being witness to the one and only time Hank went down on me, three days before I left for college. It had been nothing short of mind-melting.
I bite my lip and try to suppress a smile but fail. “Cute.”
He leans forward to swipe a grape from my plate. “Thanks.” He pops the grape into his mouth and chews with a wide grin. It’s so uncharacteristic of the grumpy man I’ve come to know, and I could swear I’m transported back seventeen years at that moment. It’s refreshing to see this side of grown-up Hank, and a gigantic stab of nostalgia rips through my heart.
