Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(73)

Even so, try as I might, I couldn’t completely shake the absurd notions—they clung to my consciousness like toilet paper to a shoe. Which was likely why Hank’s atypical display of manners made me so nervous.

As soon as we relinquished the kids to my momma, Hank placed a hand on the small of my back, encouraging me to walk a little in front of him unless someone else blocked our side of the sidewalk, in which case he stepped carefully and closely to my side and held his free hand out, which ultimately diverted the other person out of our way. Really, out of my way. It was like walking with a bodyguard and it made me feel strange, like I was someone important. Plus, you know, his hand on my back had me feeling other things.

I wasn’t entertaining those things. I’m retired from having a sex life.

And if his handling of me on the sidewalk wasn’t enough, he opened the passenger door of the truck for me and offered a hand to help me up, saying, “Watch your step,” and “I’ll have the AC on in a tick,” before shutting the door carefully once I settled and buckled.

And then, as soon as he started the car, he turned on the AC and adjusted all the vents to point at me, even though it was hot as baked potatoes outside, asking, “Comfortable?”

I nodded, watching him out of the corner of my eyes. “I’m just fine, thank you. How are you?”

He buckled up and checked his rearview mirror. Instead of answering my question, he said, “For the record, I did not talk to Kimmy about my job or the club.”

Oh. That’s why he’s being so mannerly, treating me like glass. He didn’t want me to holler at him. Ha!

I felt my shoulders relax. “I know that. I can tell when she’s trying to ruffle my feathers. And I trust you. No worries on that front.”

He pulled out of the parking lot, casting a quick look my way. “You trust me?”

“Uh . . .” I hadn’t necessarily meant to vocalize it, but it was the truth. Obviously. “I wouldn’t have left Kimmy with you if I didn’t trust you, Hank,” I said softly, making sure my smile was just as soft.

His gaze strayed to my lips and his parted, giving me the sense a critical thought rested on the tip of his tongue. But then he frowned and pointed his glare out the windshield. I released the breath I held, my chest tight.

I’d been dreading this moment. Ever since I left The Pink Pony on Sunday, I’d been dreading seeing him again, and being alone with him, and it being awkward. But I’d done this to myself; I’d asked him to drive me into work specifically so I could rip off the Band-Aid and get this conversation over with.

The tick, tick, tick of his blinker and the whoosh of cool air leaving the vents was the only sound in his truck for what felt like an hour, but it couldn’t have been more than ten seconds. We were paused at a stop sign, waiting for pedestrians to cross in front of us. My brain was so full of contradictory thoughts and wants, irrational anxieties and unrealistic notions, I didn’t note who the pedestrians were or what they looked like.

“Charlotte.”

I closed my eyes briefly, then forced them open. “Yes?”

He pressed on the gas. “May we please discuss what happened on Sunday?”

Here we go.

Shoving all thoughts of Kevin’s return and his despicable momma to the side—I’d think about those trash fires later—I twisted my fingers in the fabric of my long skirt and stared forward. “What is there to say?”

I had no idea what he’d say next or if he’d say anything at all. And I had no idea what I wanted him to say if he did speak. See? Contradictory thoughts.

“You said it was a mistake.” His hands moved on the steering wheel. “Why was it a mistake?”

Forcing myself to release the skirt, I smoothed it over my knees. At least his question was an easy one. “I’m—like I said, I’m retired from doing that kind of thing. With anyone.”

“This is what I want to talk about, you being ‘retired from having a love and sex life.’ Why are you retired?”

Another easy question. “I realized a while ago that I can't have everything I want. I’ve prioritized what I think is most important, and I’m content with my priorities. Compromise isn’t always a bad thing, especially when it’s good for the people you love.”

The truck slowed then halted at another stop sign. More pedestrians were crossing, and he took the opportunity to face me. To my surprise, he wore a smile that felt both amused and disbelieving. “That answer sounded rehearsed, Ms. Mitchell.”

“Well, you know . . .” I tilted my head back and forth, growing warm around the neck at his pointed attention. “Sometimes I say it to myself in front of the mirror for morning affirmations when I get—” I snapped my mouth shut, realizing what I was about to say.

He lifted an eyebrow. “When you get what?”

I persisted in pressing my lips together. I couldn’t say, When I get horny. I might’ve been a brazen loudmouth at times, but even I knew that statement was inappropriate.

“Charlotte?”

Crossing my arms, I held myself stiffly. “Why do you want to know? Why do you care? I said it was a mistake. I apologize if I sent you mixed signals by kissing you back, but to be perfectly candid, you caught me off guard. I’m not sure what you think you want from me. I responded the best I could, given the circumstances.”