Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(84)

His feet carried him a mere inch closer, giving me the sense he was restless to close the distance between us but determined to restrain himself. “You mean you want us to date in secret.”

“What?” I balked. “No.”

“No?” He also balked, visibly surprised.

“No.” I gave my head an adamant shake, but then stopped. “Wait, do you mean from the kids? Then, yes. I wouldn’t want the kids to know that we’re dating—not for a while—but we wouldn’t keep it a secret from anyone else.”

His confusion seemed to double. “You wouldn’t care if folks around town knew?”

“No, Hank,” I said softly, his uncertainty making my chest hurt and I could’ve strangled Patty and that lawyer woman for making him feel like he was only worthy of being dated in secret. Unthinkingly, I reached for his hand and cradled it in mine. “I would be proud to date you.”

“Charlotte, no. No.” Frown persisting, he leveraged my hold on his hand to pull me forward, his arms coming around me. “We can’t date openly,” he said, like he found the very idea appalling.

Before I could force my mouth to argue, he continued, “At least not yet. Now that I know you’re willing, I’ll make some changes. I’ll sell the club—”

“What?!”

“And make nice with folks in town,” he went on, his eyes no longer focused on me but over my shoulder, maybe on this theoretical future he’d conjured. “I’ll donate money to the garden club and the church and wherever else it takes to make those people think of me as worthy of you. I’ll win your momma over. Once she thinks of me as respectable, then—”

I yanked out of his arms and lifted mine to ward off his words. “Hank Weller, you will do no such thing.”

His frown returned. “Yes, I will.”

“No, you won’t. You will not change a single hair on your head for me, is that clear?”

He reached out as though to pull me back, but I evaded him, twisting to the side. “No. Now, you listen. You are perfect just the way you are. And if the small-minded people don’t like you, then who cares?”

“I care,” he said flatly.

“Since when?”

“Since I wanted to get serious with a woman who has kids—kids who could be hurt by my sleazy reputation.”

I gaped, startled by the severity of his words, his tone, and the look in his eyes, like he was disappointed with me. With me!

“Don’t look at me like I’m off my rocker, you know I’m right.” He set his hands on his hips. “I’ve spent my whole life being merely tolerated, and the last few years, ever since your ex and Carli skipped town together, being scorned and shunned. It’s only been recently that folks have stopped being outright hostile. When I was younger, I didn’t mind. In fact, I craved it. I wanted to be on the outside.”

“And you don’t anymore?” My question emerged strangled.

“If it were just me, I wouldn’t mind being simply tolerated again. I don’t need folks in town to like me. But I couldn’t do that to you, or your kids. And that’s what would happen, Charlotte. Being tolerated would be the best-case scenario. Worst case, you and Kimmy, Joshua and Sonya, and that littlest one, Frankie, you’d all be spurned, disinvited, whispered about. You must see that.”

Meeting his stare, I swallowed around a lump as my mind tripped over and then halted on my ex-mother-in-law’s gleeful sharing of Kevin’s current whereabouts. I didn’t believe for one second that Kevin had any interest in my children, but Mrs. Buckley? And Kevin’s daddy? They’d dragged their feet on finalizing the custody agreement once, there was nothing stopping them from petitioning the court to modify the terms. The possibility was why I’d secured that modest beach house in the divorce, why I’d fixed it up and rented it out.

Folks in this town love to gossip and judge.

Hank was right. Of course he was right. And I was stupid, coming in here like a Pollyanna after my discussion with Hannah where she’d pointed out the exact same danger, convincing myself that everything would be fine, folks would get over it. Who would care?

Maybe people wouldn’t care, but they certainly would judge.

I briefly considered and then dismissed telling Hank about Kevin’s return to the area. Kevin wasn’t Hank’s problem, he’d never been Hank’s problem, and he’d already been through enough thanks to my ex. No, I’d deal with Kevin on my own, if or when the time came.

As much as it pained me to admit it, my mother was also right. I was denser than dirt sometimes. We couldn’t be together publicly. Not unless Hank’s reputation underwent a serious makeover.

And yet . . .

“This is ridiculous. I can’t ask you to sell the club.” My eyes stung and my voice cracked on the last word. “We don’t even know if things will work out between us. I don’t want you to change who you are for me. I like who you are.”

Hank’s eyes turned soft, and he gathered my cheeks in his palms. “Angel, I like who you are, too. And I wouldn’t want you to change a hair on your head either.” Apparently unable to help himself, he brushed a gentle kiss across my lips, then retreated a few inches. “But this isn’t me changing, not really. This would be me putting on a show. I need to play by their rules so I can win without you and the kids losing.”