Hook, Line, and Sinker (Bellinger Sisters, #2)(23)

Yeah. A ruse was all this could be. A friend helping a friend. Unfortunately, he knew enough about women to know Hannah wasn’t faking her enjoyment. Those breathy whimpers were for his ears alone. It was on Fox to make sure they didn’t take this too far. As in, all the way back to his bed.

Despite the effort it cost him, Fox broke the kiss, pressing their foreheads together as they both struggled to catch their breath. “All right, Freckles,” he said. “I think we convinced him.”

Her eyes met his in a daze. “What? Who?”

For the first time, Fox felt his heart speed up into a sprint while off the water. Had Hannah just kissed him . . . to kiss him? Because she wanted to? He thought of the way she’d stopped dancing when he walked in, the way she’d moved in his direction as if drawn by a magnet. Had he misread everything? Was this not about making the director jealous? “Hannah, I . . . thought you were trying to show Sergei what he’s missing?”

She blinked at him several times. “Oh. Oh. Yeah, I know,” she said in a rushed whisper, shaking her head a couple of times. “I knew what you meant. S-sorry.” Why wouldn’t she look at him? “Thank you for . . . being so convincing.”

Fox couldn’t account for the ripple of pain in his stomach when she glanced sideways at Sergei to see if he’d been watching.

Oh yeah, the guy was looking, all right.

This plan was already working.

He suddenly ached to bury his fist in the wall.

When Hannah shifted, Fox realized he still had her flattened against the entryway and backed off before she felt his erection.

“How, um”—she cupped the base of her throat, as if to hide the pink skin there—“how did you know I was here?”

“I followed the trail of drunk people.” He remembered the red cup in her hand when he’d arrived and concern drew his brows together. “You’re not one of them, are you? I didn’t realize—”

“Stop, I haven’t had enough to drink that you took advantage of me, Fox. Only enough to dance to electronica.” She puffed a laugh. “Anyway, I kissed you, remember?”

“I remember, Hannah,” he assured her in a low voice, unable to keep his gaze from dropping to her swollen lips. “Do you want to stay awhile?”

She shook her head. Stopped. A smile bloomed across her face, and all he could do was watch it happen, dazed. “I did it,” she murmured. “I asked to assist with the musical score and they said yes. And I didn’t fall and nearly crack my head open this time.”

Dumb heart. Dumb, pointless heart, please stop turning over.

The problem was, Hannah was extra cute after a few drinks and happy with her good news. All Fox could think about was kissing her again, and he couldn’t. He’d done his job; now he needed to move back into friend territory fast. She seemed to have no problem putting him back there, right? He treasured this friendship, so he needed to follow suit. Pronto.

“Congratulations,” he said, returning her smile. “That’s amazing. You’re going to be great at it.”

“Yeah . . .” A little line formed between her brows. “Yeah. I will. I’ll wake up tomorrow and the songs will be back.”

Songs were the way she communicated her moods and feelings. How she interpreted everything. He’d known it last summer, and that knowledge of her had only grown over seven months of text messages. Knowing exactly what she meant made him feel . . . special. “Where did the songs go?”

“I don’t know.” Her lips twitched. “Maybe some ice cream would help?”

“We’ll have to stop on the way home. Only the vanilla side is left.”

“The not-chocolate side, you mean?” She surveyed the room. “I guess I should say good-bye. Or . . .” An odd look crossed her face. Something like reluctance, but he couldn’t be sure. “Or I could introduce you to, um . . . There were some interested parties . . .”

It took him a minute to realize what she was getting at. “You mean the girls who called dibs on me when I walked into the room?” He kissed her forehead so she wouldn’t see how much that bothered him. It shouldn’t. He’d embraced the way people saw him. “Hard pass, Freckles. Let’s go get ice cream.”

*

The first three times Hannah teetered in her heels, Fox started to worry that she was, in fact, shit-faced. Had she really wanted that kiss? At the very least, if he’d known she’d had a lot to drink, he wouldn’t have let it go on so long.

The clear quality of her speech put most of his fears to rest—all except the one about Hannah breaking her neck in those heels. So on their way out of the convenience store, he stepped in front of her, gesturing impatiently so she wouldn’t suspect that he wanted to carry her. “This is not the kind of ride I usually offer women.” He bent his knees a little to accommodate their height difference. “But the ice cream is going to melt if we have to take a trip to the ER, so hop on.”

He loved that she simply jumped. Not a second’s hesitation to read his intentions or tell him a piggyback ride was crazy. She just shoved the pint of chocolate ice cream under her arm and leapt, looping her free arm loosely around his neck. “You noticed my lack of high-heel game, did you? Know what’s crazy? I actually like them. Piper wouldn’t tell me how much they cost—I highly suspect because she never checked the price tag—but the astronomical price means they’re kind of like walking on cotton balls.” She yawned into his neck. “I’ve been judging her for wearing uncomfortable shoes for the sake of fashion, but they are cozy and they really do elongate the leg, Fox. I think I just need some practice.”