Chirp(57)

“You remember the lecture you gave me about hurting her? You’re on dangerous ground.”

Rance laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Anytime you’re between a woman’s legs, it’s dangerous. She understands our relationship. I made sure of that before I brought her back home.” He strolled away.

Seth sauntered out to the back porch. Hanna confused him. She’d cried. Women didn’t cry over men they hated. They screamed. Cursed. Threw shit. She’d overreacted, and that didn’t make sense. He came to his feet. Fishing keys out of his pocket, he quietly closed the door behind him. Blaze was right. Hanna couldn’t kick out a paying customer, so that’s what he’d be.





Hanna


Two hours into her shift, Hanna still felt sick. Why hadn’t Seth left? And why had he come to see her? Stupid. He wanted one last fling before giving up his freedom. Even though she still loved him, she’d never let that happen.

Regardless of how Seth had treated her, he deserved to know his son. But after what Blaze had said about Heather, Hanna couldn’t bring herself tell him. Not yet. She’d fantasized about Seth spending time with Noah, but according to Blaze, his new wife would be against it. She’d hire a nanny so she and Seth could socialize. So what would be the point? Child support? Sure, she could get money out of him, but that wasn’t what she wanted. No need to worry. After how she’d treated him, he had probably left by now and her secret was safe for a while longer.

She turned her attention back to the candy rack she was refilling and thought of more logical things. Like contacting more businesses about her soap line. Another order had arrived from a boutique in Houston, so that was encouraging. The Facebook page was paying off. But she had to give credit to Blaze. The wrappers she’d designed were real eye-catchers.

Hanna discarded the empty box and moved to the next one. Since the festival was over, the town was dead. If business continued to be slow, she’d get all the stocking done before her shift ended. She loved when that happened. The door chimed, putting an end to her musings. She slid the carton aside and called over her shoulder, “Come in.”

The customer went down the next aisle, so Hanna tossed the empty box into the storeroom behind the register. When she turned around, Seth stood before her. He handed her a family-size bag of chips and a jar of salsa.

Her heart jumped into her throat, and she struggled to get the words out. “Will this be all for you, sir?”

“I believe so.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

She rang the sale and bagged it. “That’ll be seven dollars and thirty-three cents.”

He slid a ten-dollar bill to her.

Instead of handing him the change, she placed it on the counter. “Thank you.”

He turned to go, then hesitated. “You know what? I should get something to drink with this.”

He left the purchases, walked to the refrigerated case, and returned with a soda.

“Will this be all, sir?” And there was that damn smile again. Her knees weakened.

“I think so.”

She put the money in the register. “Thanks.”

“On second thought, I might want something sweet after I eat this.” He disappeared around the corner and came back with two candy bars.

“Will this be all, sir?”

“Not sure. Let me think a minute.” He folded his arms across his chest, looked up, and tapped his foot.

She didn’t need this aggravation. “Milk, bread, eggs?”

He shook his head.

“Cereal, butter, cheese?”

“No.”

“Athlete’s foot powder, hemorrhoid suppositories?”

That got a laugh from him, and God, how she’d always loved his laugh.

“Now we’re talking.”

She fought a smile. “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re talking, and that’s what I want. For us to talk. Without anger. Without hate. Can we do that?”

“I never said I hated you.” Her stomach rumbled, and she didn’t know if it was from hunger or misery.

“Good to know, because from our earlier conversation, I would have sworn you did.”

“Well, I don’t. So you can go home now.”

“Okay.” He gathered his bags and left.

Hanna braced against the wall and hung her head. No, Seth. I don’t hate you. I hate myself because I’m still in love with you. She rushed to the window and found the parking lot empty. Thank God.

For the next few hours, her mind ping-ponged between her soap business and Seth, with him winning most of the time. She wanted to hate him but couldn’t. It had taken every ounce of willpower not to throw him to the floor and rip off his clothes. She’d reached a new low. Lusting for another woman’s man. He belonged to someone else, and she needed to accept that.

Someday she’d confess, but not now. Not when he was about to start his life with Heather. Note to self: throw out all heather essential oils. Don’t want to be reminded of Seth’s wife every time you make soap.

At eleven-thirty, the owner, Mr. Ross, showed up to help close. She checked the sales, and he took out the trash. When he came back inside, he joined her at the register.

“Slow tonight, huh?”

She studied the detail tape, then wrapped it around the bundle of bills. “Real slow. Only thirty-one customers all night.”