Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(85)

I heaved a sigh. “I understand that, I do, but like I said, we don’t know if things are going to work out between us. And you selling the club, making all these changes . . . What if we don’t work out? Then you’ve lost everything and that would not be okay with me.”

“That’s a—that’s a fair point. It would be putting you under a lot of pressure, right from the get-go.” His forehead wrinkled, his eyes moving between mine. “How about this: if you agree to see me in secret, then I won’t sell the club. We’ll take things slow. We’ll see what happens, no pressure. But”—he stole another quick kiss, his hands smoothing down my neck, to my arms, gathering my hands in his—“if after, let’s say, six months things are going well, then . . .” Hank lowered his head to my neck, placed a kiss just under my ear, and whispered, “Then I move forward with publicly rehabilitating my reputation so we can be together in the open.”

I struggled to think, trying not to moan as he nipped at my skin. “I don’t know, six months might not be enough time.”

“How about six months and a day?” His hot breath caressed my skin as he continued trailing kisses under my jaw.

I laughed, but it caught in my throat as he sucked on my earlobe. “No, Hank,” I panted, heat swirling in my abdomen. “Hank, I’m being serious. There are still some things you need to—need to—oh, please stop doing that. I can’t think.”

Hank removed his tongue from my ear and sighed heavily. His hands found their way to my bottom and he gave me a possessive squeeze before lifting his head.

“Fine. Talk. Tell me what I need to know.”

He looked so grumpy. It was cute. But I couldn’t let myself be sidetracked again.

Setting my palms on his shoulders, I forced myself to spell things out. “My priority is my children. Those four humans are my responsibility. They come first.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” His grumpiness morphed into a tender, accepting smile.

Now I frowned. “No. Listen to me, really listen. You were right, we can’t date openly—for the kids’ sakes. But even if we’re dating in secret, I will cancel on you last minute. It’s inevitable. Someone will be sick, or the sitter will cancel on me, or I’ll be too tired to go out and I’ll need to save my energy for them, for when they need me.”

“Makes sense.”

I wasn’t finished. “I won’t be able to see you for long stretches of time when things are busy. The start of the year is always hectic. Someone will get sick—it never fails—around the second or third week of September. Then it’s Halloween and costumes and decorating and fall plays and pumpkins. Then we have a short lull before Thanksgiving and the holidays. The holidays are completely bonkers. I likely won’t be able to see you between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, and then even longer if the kids get sick again after the winter break. Six months might mean four dates, possibly even less.”

“I see . . .” His eyes, sober and contemplative, drifted to some spot behind me.

My heart sank, but I soldiered on. This is what I’d come in here to do; this is what I’d decided after my discussion with Hannah.

“This is what I’m talking about,” I said, and his gaze refocused on mine. I gave him a bleak smile. “I can see now you were right about us dating publicly being bad for the kids, but I’m right about this. And this is why me expecting you—or anyone—to put in the effort, to sit around and wait, to put my kids’ needs above your own, to accept that you’d be fifth and they’re all tied for first, that’s too much to ask.”

“I don’t—”

“But there is no other way.”

“It’s not that—”

“I’m incapable of changing my priorities.”

“Charlotte. I accept.”

My mouth snapped shut.

Jaw set in a determined line, he said, “Thank you for spelling things out. I do accept. Consider my eyes wide open.”

“Oh.” Since I’d almost succeeded in convincing myself he wouldn’t accept, this came as another shock.

“But I do have a question,” he said, sounding hesitant.

“What? What is it?” My heart hung suspended.

Hank’s eyes grew speculative in that way of his. “Is it my job? Is that the reason you want me to keep my distance from the kids?”

I rocked back on my heels. Everything out of his mouth recently were the last things I’d expected him to ask, say, or offer, which had me blurting, “I thought you didn’t like kids.”

“I don’t.” He shrugged. “But I really like Jet’s kids from what I know, and your kids. Or I like the three of yours I’ve talked to so far. Jury is still out on the youngest since we’ve never been properly introduced.”

Taking a step back, and thereby removing myself from the circle of his arms, I asked, “You really like my kids? How—how would you know if you like them?”

He scratched his chin through his beard. “I don’t know them well, that’s true. I sat with Joshua and Sonya at that thing a while back, at Jet’s place. We talked for a while and I really enjoyed the conversation, the company. And your oldest, Kimmy, I took an immediate liking to her even though she’s stubborn and mean.”