Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(76)

“Thank you,” he said. Then he laughed lightly, a supremely pleased, sexy, rumble of a sound. “I think I really needed that.”

I also laughed, but mine was bewildered. “You’re welcome?” Reality had begun to set in. If I’d been confused and unsettled before, I was downright discombobulated now.

The truck was still running, the air was still on, and this was not good for the environment. Being a responsible global citizen, I latched on to this irresponsible use of fossil fuels.

“We should, uh—” I had to swallow around the dryness in my throat. “We should get going. To work. The exhaust isn’t good for the glaciers and I have Hannah to train and . . . uh, yeah.”

It was rare for me to be at a loss for words. I felt verbally bankrupt at the moment.

His arms squeezed my shoulders. Placing one more kiss on the back of my hand, then forehead, he gracefully set me back in my seat. Realizing my skirt was still up, my camisole still askew, and my underwear around one ankle, I yanked down the hem of the floral fabric while yanking up my shirt straps, putting myself back together after our—our—

Our whatever that was.

My body hadn’t quite recovered. It felt loose and happy and lazy and wonderful, and I blamed it for my fumbling attempt to pull up my underwear. Meanwhile, Hank had buckled his seatbelt with self-assured movements and was now looking mighty satisfied with himself.

I glared at his profile as he backed out from under the trees where we’d parked, some sort of utility road with a pull-off.

“Did you just win a bet?” I asked, working to keep my tone light. I pushed my hair behind my shoulders and tucked it behind my ears so I’d have something to do with my hands.

“No. Why?” He smiled at me, his eyes vivid and attentive, like he thought I was cute, or delightful, or something like that.

I folded my arms over my stomach, not knowing how to cope with this strange turn of events and how easily I’d been seduced by Hank Weller. I wasn’t embarrassed; I didn’t know what I was. “You look . . .”

“What?”

“Sorta smug, I guess.”

We’d reached the main road and Hank stopped the truck before pulling into traffic, even though there was no traffic. Turning toward me, his smile softened and he sighed. It sounded content.

What the heck was going on? What man ever looked that pleased after giving an orgasm but not receiving one?

“I suppose I’m just relieved we got everything settled.” Still grinning, his eyebrows pulled together as they moved over me. “Buckle up.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to need some help here. What, precisely, did we get settled?” I reached for the belt, my fingers clumsy.

Hank’s look told me he thought the question was strange. “You know.”

“Humor me. What is it that you think we settled?”

“You’ll come to me”—his attention returned to the windshield—“when you need me. I’ll take care of you.”

“I’ll come to you when I need you?” What was he talking about?

“Yeah.” His smile slipped, just a tad. “Like I said, I know you have a lot going on, no time for thinking about a future with anyone, no room in your life for another commitment.”

My mind working frantically, I could do nothing but stare at him, certain I had to be misunderstanding what he was offering.

But then he continued, his tone easy and light. “There’s no pressure here, no bad stuff, no inconvenience to you, nothing that will require you to spend any time on me. Whenever you want me to step in and see to your needs, say the word and I will.”





CHAPTER 20





CHARLOTTE





“We must respect the other fellow's religion, but only in the sense and to the extent that we respect his theory that his wife is beautiful and his children smart.”

H.L. MENCKEN, MINORITY REPORT





“Hank, you had one job. One. Job.” April shook her head as she served herself some fruit, disappointment prominent on her features.

“I’ll get her gift before next week, I promise,” he said. Seemingly unfazed by the tall blonde’s admonishment, he smirked at me. “Charlotte can even pick it out in person if she has the time. And only if she wants to.”

I dropped my eyes to the plate of cake sitting on my lap. Cheeks burning and stomach rolling ever since the interlude with Hank in his truck earlier, I hadn’t been prepared to eat cake. But upon arriving at The Pony, the entire staff and all the dancers had been gathered in the breakroom, waiting for me, primed with excited smiles on their faces and a going-away cake with my name on it baked by Serafina. They’d even purchased balloons.

“We missed you on Sunday, Charlotte,” Everly said, taking the seat next to mine.

Fighting a spike of alarm, I affixed a smile to my face while I chewed on the big piece of cake I’d just shoveled in my mouth. Swallowing hastily, I asked, “Sunday? What? Why? What happened on Sunday?”

“After the car wash.” Jiff took the seat next to Everly and pushed a streak of purple hair off her forehead. “We went out to Genie’s, went dancing.” Jiff studied my face for a minute. “Wait, did no one tell you?”