Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(83)

I couldn’t help but feel indignant on his behalf. Also, flattered. Also, confused. “Why?” It was selfish of me to ask, seeing as how I’d already made up my mind about him and us, but I wanted to know. “I don’t understand you. Why do you suddenly want to help me with anything? Is this about Kevin? Do you feel guilty about what happened? Please don’t. Like I told you, me wanting a divorce was never about him and that woman who worked here. I’ve never blamed you or associated you or The Pony with his choices. I left him before he—”

“It’s not about Buckley. I don’t feel guilty—I’ve never felt guilty about that. I’m glad he left town.” He stepped forward. Reaching for my hands, he pressed them between his palms, a desperation bleeding into his tone. “Getting to know you while you’ve been here, spending time with you, watching you interact with literally every person in your life, it’s been like being carried over a waterfall I didn’t know was coming, or getting hit by a car.”

I winced. “Tragic and violent?”

“No.” He pressed his lips together in an obvious attempt to not laugh. “No, angel. It blindsided me.” Both his voice and gaze softened. “You blindsided me. Your accepting ways. How down to earth you are, how easy to be around. Your generosity, and fuck, your competence. You can do anything, whether it be unloading a whole damn truckload of liquor crates, reorganizing and streamlining the finances of this place in less than a week, arranging a damn car wash that makes us more money in one day than we usually make in a whole weekend, or effortlessly tricking sixteen exceptionally untrusting exotic dancers to eat out of the palm of your hand.”

I felt my mouth tug with a smile. “They’re lovely people. I like them.”

“And they like you. They like you more than they like me.”

I chuckled. “That’s not true.”

“It’s a little true.” He squinted but also grinned. “And you’re funny. You make me laugh. Not many people can make me laugh. I would miss you if I didn’t get to see you.” Hank relinquished my hands to one of his and threaded his fingers into my hair behind my ear, his thumb moving against my jaw, his gaze cherishing. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Nor do I wish to stop. I want you to have everything you want. You deserve everything you want, and you said on Sunday that you wanted me.”

I opened my mouth to clarify that, yes, I wanted him; and in an alternate reality, a future with him where I could put him first and we could be that for each other. But I also wanted an end to world hunger and a self-cleaning house and for my kids to always get along. Wanting something impossible didn’t mean I expected to get or have that impossible thing.

Hank pressed his thumb to my lips before I could vocalize the point. “You want to be with me, fact,” he said firmly. “Don’t try to deny it. But you don’t think you can, right? You don’t think you have the time or the energy to dedicate to building a future with anybody. And make no mistake about it, that’s what I’d want if it were possible.”

My brain, too busy processing his words and the feel of his thumb on my lips, couldn’t decide how to react.

“You are so lovely, in every single way,” he said, his eyes growing hazier the longer they stared at my mouth, his thumb brushing against my bottom lip. “You talk about fairness for me, but what about for you? What about what you deserve? What about someone making you their priority?”

I sensed he spoke these words mainly to himself. As much as they made my stomach flutter, I still couldn’t accept my gratification at his expense without making sure he felt valued in return.

Covering his hand, I pulled it away from my face, drawing his eyes back to mine. “Thank you for clarifying. Thank you for saying those pretty things about me. I—” I gathered a deep breath, admiration and desire for this man making my chest tight and hot and achy. “I appreciate you wanting to put your own needs to the side to take care of mine, but I still can’t say yes.”

His frown was immediate. It looked pained rather than angry.

“Charlotte—”

“But . . .” I moved our threaded fingers out to our sides and gave him a quick kiss, saying a short prayer it wouldn’t be our last.

Hank blinked, startled.

“If you meant what you said, and you’re willing to give things between us a real try—building a future and all that—then I think that’s what we should do.” Grinning but feeling shy, I tried not to get my hopes up. “I think we should date.”





CHAPTER 22





CHARLOTTE





“When I look at a person, I see a person—not a rank, not a class, not a title.”

CRISS JAMI, KILLOSOPHY





He blinked again, his lips parting, the shock seizing his features almost comical.

In the very next second, he dropped my hands and took a step back. “Wait a second. Are you serious?”

Without his hands in mine, my fingers twisted in my skirt again. “I am serious. I think we should give it a try.”

On a short, stunned breath, he said, “Are you sure?”

“Yes. But if we do this, you have to understand what this means, that you come into it with your eyes wide open.”