Jared has the audacity to look affronted, but Happy shrugs a shoulder, continuing, “It’s not any of my business either. I’m just glad I was able to give him the pep-talk he needed to be able to admit it to himself because… it’s been going on for a while as far as I can tell.”
Patrick steps forward, smacking Happy on the back. “Thanks for coming by, Happy.”
Happy’s gaze slides to me, a small smile ghosting his lips. “Any time.”
Between the look in his eyes, and the thought that maybe he’s talking directly to me, that he’ll be here for me any time, I feel my cheeks flush. Happy Slater is truly something, and I’m only starting to see that he’s nothing like I, and so many other people, wrote him off to be.
“Do you need a ride?” Happy asks. “Hannah?”
I almost laugh at how he says my name, like he’s trying to keep it professional. Biting back my smile, I nod, feeling Patrick’s knowing gaze on me. “Um, yeah. Thanks. I’ll just say goodbye to Brookes and grab my things.”
CHAPTER 20
HAPPY
Hannah is uncharacteristically quiet, and I’m worried that finding Brookes’s unconscious body affected her more than she’s letting on. Is she okay? God, this is all so foreign to me, it’s confronting. I genuinely care about this woman. Like, I want to make her feel better. And in a totally non-sexual way. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I want her ineverysexual way—but right now, I just need to know that she’s okay. What happened with Brookes is a lot for anyone; I know firsthand the fear she felt when she saw him like that.
Glancing across at her, I take her in. She’s dressed cute. A short black skirt that does things to me I don’t even want to admit to myself because, even in my mind, I sound like a pervert. Shiny black loafers. And an oversized white button down that looks like she could have picked it out of my very own closet, with a red sweater knotted around her shoulder. Totally preppy. Totally fucking hot.Totally not the time or place, big guy, I silently chastise my twitching dick.
“You hungry?”
Hannah startles, pulled from where she’s been staring out the window as I navigate the city streets. I place my hand on her smooth knee, squeezing gently.
“I’m starving,” she admits as if she’s only just realized it herself. “But we’re probably too late to make our dinner reservation, huh?”
I sniff a laugh. Honestly, if I walk into any restaurant in this city and they don’t know who I am by face, the moment I tell them my name, I’m guaranteed the best table, whether they’re fully booked or not. It’s the same back in Los Angeles; it’s been like this for my whole life. But, of course, I don’t tell her that. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean I can’t still feed you.”
I glance at her to see her flash me a serious side-eye. “Are you talking about your penis, because I really am hungry. For, like, actual food.”
My head falls back on a laugh I can’t contain. “I mean…” I trail off, tamping down my laughter. “Maybe later. But for now, I’m pretty hungry too. Foractualfood.”
She smiles, and fuck me, she’s gorgeous; that smile could light up the darkest midnights, I swear to God. I swallow back that thought, clearing my throat. “I know a place, but it’s out of the city,” I say. “You up for a drive?”
Hannah nods. “Yeah, Toast Malone stayed with his doggy daycare momma tonight, so I’m down for a drive.”
I flash her a grin and make a left at the next turn. And my hand remains on her knee like that’s where it belongs from now on, driving in a companionable silence to the tune of Taylor Swift singingly softly in the background.
I pull into a spot on the street outside Sal’s in the depths of Queens, unfastening my seatbelt and grinning at Hannah when she looks at me with a curious smile.
“Best sandwiches in all of the five boroughs,” I assure her.
“That’s a big claim,” she says, unfastening her seatbelt and following me as I hop out of the truck.
I walk around and wait for her. “Just you wait, Baby Draper. Juiciest fucking pastrami you’ve ever had, trust me.”
As we walk across the street, I reach for Hannah’s hand, but then I stop at the last second, second guessing myself for some reason. But this was originally supposed to be a date, and it’s normal for people to hold hands on a date… I think. From what I’ve seen in the movies, at least. So, shaking my head at my self-doubt, I take her hand, relieved when she links her fingers through mine. And, as I open the door and we walk into the nondescript hole-in-the-wall twenty-four-hour deli, I’m smiling like a smug asshole.
I order two sandwiches—pastrami because it’s the bomb, and turkey because, well, it’s also the bomb. In fact, I’ve never had anything that isn’tbombfrom this place, and I’ve been coming here for years.
We sit at one of the two tables in the back of the store, and it’s so small that my knees bump Hannah’s beneath the table. I spread my legs enough so that she can insert hers between my thighs, and we smile at one another, the position close and intimate despite being in the middle of a goddamn deli.
I watch as Hannah bites into her half of the pastrami, waiting for her reaction. If she hates it, I might just question my very existence. She takes a big bite, chewing a few times, and then I see it, the way her eyes start to glaze over as the taste hits her all at once.
“Oh, wow,” she murmurs around a mouthful. “That’s… really good.” She nods, taking another big bite, and I release a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding, inwardly victorious.
“I’m not one to sayI told you so, but… I did,” I say smugly, taking a bite of the turkey with a satisfied groan.
Looking around at the store, Hannah smiles. “This may very well be my new favorite place.”
