The sushi had been a hitwith Hannah. I wasn’t sure it would be, because?in my limited experience?kids could be temperamental when it came to trying new things. But Hannah had loved all the flavors. I’d even gotten her to try a gyoza, which she grudgingly admitted to liking but said she couldn’t have more than one because it was fried, and she even glowered at me a little when I put away the rest of the dozen I’d ordered.
The entire meal had been lighthearted. Laughter. Smiles.
A mood so different than the heaviness that had settled over Tristan right before she’d kissed me. A mood very different than the craving desire that had consumed me when she’d pressed those sweet lips against mine. The kisses had wound their way deep inside me, making me doubt my reasons for not sleeping with her, even when I knew I was everything she didn’t need.
After dinner, Hannah asked me to read with her, and I obliged not only because it was impossible to resist her, but also because I wasn’t ready to leave. Tristan hadn’t spilled the beans about what was going on with William, and I found myself feeling as protective of her as I normally did of Cassidy. Maybemore…But I also wasn’t ready to leave because I needed another taste. More of her lips and her hands and her body pressed up against mine.
As I sat on the couch with Hannah’s little frame leaning against my shoulder while I read, my heart flipped and swirled in a very different way. Elana’s sweet, smart, talented granddaughter was struggling with so much loss it made me hurt for her. I wanted to fix everything for her when it wasn’t my place to do so.
When the clock on the mantel chimed seven-thirty, Tristan called a stop to the reading. “It’s time for bed,Chiquita.”
Hannah sighed, slid off the couch, and stuck out her hand to me.
“You want to see my room?”
I looked up at Tristan. Her face was tight, jaw working, as she fought off a wave of emotions. “Maybe another night,Chiquita. Brady’s already given us enough of his time today. You go up and start getting ready. I’ll be there in a second.”
Hannah threw herself into my arms, and I hugged her tightly.
“Thanks for the sushi. Thanks for teaching me ‘I Have a Dream.’”
Then, she rushed away, going up the stairs while I stared, my heart?like the dog?chasing after her.
“Thank you for dinner,” Tristan said, and she walked to the door, making it clear my stay was done. That she wanted me to leave.
I stood and joined her, standing close enough that I could smell the sugary scent of her again.
“Saying goodnight to me now will not stop us from having the conversation we need to have,” I said quietly.
She raised her chin defiantly. Was it directed at me or herself?
“There’s nothing to talk about, Brady.”
“Keep telling yourself that,Cariño.”
She inhaled sharply at the nickname. Just like she had the night before. But it fit her. Sweetheart. Dear one. I could see why Elana called her it. She was sweet. But also sexy. Gorgeous. Heart-stopping.My body called to her. Or she called to me. Like she’d said about Hannah and the piano. It was the same. This mingling of souls talking in a way I was unused to.
I pulled on my shoes that were caked with farm muck before turning back to her. I took a risk and grabbed her hand, intermingling our fingers and tugging her gently toward me. She resisted, but only half-heartedly. When she was close enough to me that I could kiss her, I stared down at her pink lips and then just bent and placed a kiss on her forehead.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the store.”
Then, I left before I did more. Before I couldn’t walk away without touching every single part of her body. Before she and Hannah marked me in a way that wasn’t recoverable. I wasn’t sure it hadn’t already happened.
I walked home, plotting and planning. Thinking of the two females. Thinking ofLa Musica de Ensueños. Thinking of Kincaid’s and Cassidy’s words from earlier.
That was where my head was at when I walked in the back door of the house.
“Where have you been?” Mom demanded.
I spun around. She was sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread out around her, the way I’d seen her so many times growing up that it was embedded in my memories of who my mother was—especially if she was waiting up for me. I fought off the sheepish feeling of being caught sneaking in past curfew. It was way too early for curfew even if I wasn’t a grown man with no curfew and no reason to feel guilty.
“Romeros’ chicks hatched. We went to see them.”
“We?” Mom looked up, red pen poised in the air like a wand.
“Tristan and Hannah and their friends.”
Mom frowned. “Is that Elana’s granddaughter?”
