Hannah looks down at herself, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.“You think this is fancy?”
I nod, unable to stop my lips from twitching into a smile.
She giggles, the sound light and infectious.Then, with a playful wink, she adds, “You should see me in an LBD and six-inch red heels.”
“LBD?”
“Little black dress.”
The mental image nearly stops me in my tracks.“You’d probably stop traffic.”
Hannah laughs, the sound soft and melodic, but there’s a faint nervousness underneath.Her cheeks tint pink as she shakes her head.“Maybe once, but not now.”
I narrow my eyes, confused.“Why not?”
Her smile falters, and she looks down, brushing her fingers against her sweater as if she’s trying to smooth out an invisible crease.
Her face flushes red, and she hesitates before pointing to her cheek.“I have scars.”
My stomach tightens at the vulnerability in her voice, and I take a slow breath.“So?”I say, my tone even.“Scars prove you’ve lived and survived.I’ve got scars, too, although most of mine are hidden under ink.”
She chews her bottom lip, her gaze darting to mine, unsure.For a heartbeat, I think she’s going to brush off what I said, but then she blurts out, “You don’t mind my face?”
Her question hits me hard, and I place Grace on the floor, stand, and step to Hannah.Tilting my head, I search her eyes.“What’s wrong with your face?”
Her eyes widen slightly, and then something shifts as if I’ve lifted a weight off her shoulders.Her lips part in a slow, genuine smile, and my chest swells with warmth.She’s beautiful, and for the life of me, I don’t know how anyone could’ve made her think otherwise.
“I’ll just grab my coat, and we can go,” she says, her voice lighter now.
As she disappears into the hallway, I move back into her kitchen.I rinse out my mug and leave it neatly on her dish rack.The sound of her soft voice reaches me as she coos to Grace.When I return to the front door, she’s crouched down, scratching behind the cat’s ears.The little gray furball purrs so loudly.
Bending, I stroke Grace’s head, and she stretches up, nuzzling against my hand.“See you, Grace,” I say, my voice low.
The cat leans into me one more time before padding off toward the couch.
“You know, you’re not so bad yourself.That cut gives you a dangerous vibe.”
I arch a brow, the corner of my mouth tugging upward.“Dangerous, huh?Is that a good thing?”
She shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes as she shuts the front door behind her.Then, slipping her arm through mine, she says, “Depends on who you ask.But for me...yeah, it’s a good thing.”
The words settle over me, warm and unexpected, as I guide her toward the truck.The cold Alaska wind nips at us, but it feels different tonight, less harsh, less biting.There’s an electric charge in the air, and for once, it’s not just the weather.
It’s her.
Hannah hesitates as I open the passenger door.“Thanks,” she says softly, climbing in.
I shut the door and pause, my breath visible in the icy night.My fingers linger on the edge of the doorframe, the faint scent of her lavender shampoo still hanging in the air.Grinning to myself, I round the truck and slide into the driver’s seat.
This is going to be an interesting night.
