No Weddings (No Weddings #1)(34)

I snorted. “No, there isn’t.”

Regardless, she held a dubious expression and stared at the bag for several more seconds before shifting her attention back to me.

I put down my fork, wiping my mouth with my napkin. “I don’t have any pets either. We did growing up, but I haven’t since I bought the house. Mason keeps hounding me to get a dog. I told him no dog. No cat. No bird. No turtle. A goldfish would be doable, but only because we could flush it when it dies. That’s how anti-commitment I’ve become.”

She gasped. “You would not flush a goldfish!”

I arched my brows. “Only after it died. I’m not a goldfish murderer.”

Laughing, she shook her head, like she couldn’t quite figure me out.

Well, that made two of us, because in the next breath after saying how noncommittal I was, I felt drawn toward her in a way I hadn’t with anyone in a long time. And it scared the shit out of me. But even knowing how I could be hurt again, betrayed to my core, I still couldn’t fight how I felt about Hannah.

Unthinking, I blurted, “I think we need to go out.”

Her brow furrowed. “Go out where?”

“On a date.”

She blinked. “What about your rule? What about your sisters?”

I blew out a hard breath. A twinge of guilt tripped through me, but I banished it as quickly as it appeared. The Cade who my sisters made promise not to f*ck the clients or the help wasn’t sitting here with Hannah. And Hannah was not “the help” to me.

And as much as I advocated no fraternizing in the workplace, something had shifted inside me, knocking me off-kilter. In fact, the ongoing shift kept unbalancing me every time I was around her.

Hannah had become the exception to every rule.

“Forget what I said. Clearly, the rule was made to be broken with us. I know you feel a magnetic pull between us just as strongly as I do.”

Her brow furrowed. “But you just said you’ve become noncommittal.”

I gave her a hard stare. “You make me want to reform.”

She tilted her head a fraction, eyes narrowing. “I think the first step would involve burning one yellow sticky-note list.”

I leaned toward her. “Hannah, from the moment I realized you were more than a business partner, that list ceased to exist for me. I will torch the damn thing.”

Her expression darkened, her hands clasped tightly together on the table. “Because I could never be a girl you would ever put on a list.”

I put my hands over hers. “Look, I know the idea of that list is intimidating. Don’t let it be. They were just girls. It was just sex. Some guys turn to alcohol or drugs. Others get professional therapy. That list was my therapy.”

Her gaze fell to the table, her voice quiet. “I could never have ‘just sex.’”

I lifted my hand and, with a gentle finger beneath her chin, lifted her face until her big eyes met mine. “You will never have ‘just sex’ with me. When we decide we’re ready, it will be a mind-blowing heart and body experience.”

She fought a smile. “That good, huh?”

I smirked. “Yeah. That good.”

Her expression turned serious again. “How long do we have to wait for that?”

I coughed out a laugh, leaning back in my chair.

Her look grew pensive. She is serious.

My smile faded. “Do you want it to be tonight?”

She stared at me, giving the matter thought, then shook her head.

I tilted my head, holding her gaze. Now that she’d brought it up, I wanted the topic to play out. “Why?”

She smiled shyly, turning away from me, staring out at the water beyond the windows. “I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “I guess I’m not ready yet.”

I’d thought as much. Hannah was a date kind of girl. She wasn’t a girl you got only physical with. She was a girl you got everything with.

“How long has it been since…” I didn’t know what to call it. The Ultimate No-Show? The Jilting?

Her gaze shifted to meet mine. The sparkle in those beautiful eyes went flat. “Since I was stood up at my wedding? Nineteen months.”

I leaned forward, taking her hands in mine. “And have you seen anyone since then?”

A slow shake of her head.

“Not even one date? Coffee?”

“No. Nothing.”

I suddenly understood the ice-queen demeanor. It only appeared as a protective mechanism, showing itself when potential suitors were in the vicinity. The shield had been activated like a blinding neon sign when I’d first met her at the grand opening of Loading Zone, warding off any and all men. The cold, hard mask was an effective deterrent. Men didn’t want to try that hard to see beneath a woman’s armor.

But it wasn’t Hannah’s true self. This was.

She hadn’t put on her armor for Ben and Mase because, in her mind, they would never bother trying. And she was right. That was my territory, and guys had an unwritten man code: you don’t poach another man’s girl, no matter the reason for her being there—friends, cooking, or otherwise.

I nodded. “And now? Do you think you’re ready to try coffee? Or maybe a date?”

Her answer didn’t matter. She would be going out on a date with me. This didn’t count. Our dinners were only glorified prearranged business meetings and fell into the safe zone.