He opened his mouth but was stopped by the tall, blond god who walked into the kitchen in a pair of boxer briefs and a lime-green T-shirt that read: Calm down, Karen.
The god dropped a kiss on Cesar’s cheek before turning to Hannah. “You must be Hannah.” She shook the hand he offered. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Pete.”
“It’s lovely to meet you.” She cut her gaze over to Cesar, making sure her expression said,Aha! I knew it!
Cesar rolled his eyes again and told Pete to have a seat next to Hannah. “Do you like your omelets plain or would you prefer some veggies tossed in?” he asked.
“Veggies.” Pete the Golden God said. “I’ll help you chop.”
As Pete grabbed a knife from the block, Hannah pointed to him and announced to Cesar, “It’s not my alien romances that have ruined me for dating. It’syou, bringing home the likes of Pete who’s all polite and charming and too pretty to look at head-on. It’s not that real men don’t compare. It’s thatstraightmen don’t compare.”
“Aw.” Pete winked at her. “Aren’t you sweet? You’re just as sweet as Cesar said you were.”
“Inevercalled her sweet,” Cesar contradicted with a twist of his lips. “I said she was smart and funny and sometimes a serious pain in my balls. But sweet?” He shook his head. “Never. Well”—he screwed up his mouth in consideration—“sweet like cyanide maybe. But back to the lamentable subject of your straightness.” He pointed the tip of the knife at Hannah. “You know if it were up to me I’d wave my magic wand and turn you into a femboy.Poof!Oh! And then the fun we’d have!”
“No.” She shook her head. “Femboys have nine-step skincare routines. I’d want to be a bear. All burly and charismatic with a big, booming voice.”
He stopped chopping to study her. “You’d never make it as a bear. There’s just not enough of you. Maybe you could be an otter or—”
Her phone blared Lizzo’s “About Damn Time.” “Who in their right mind would be calling me before eight AM?” she snarled. Then she saw the number on the screen and nearly fell off the barstool. “Cockwaffle.” The three syllables wheezed out of her.
“What is it?” Cesar was instantly serious. “Whois it?”
“S-Sam,” she rasped. Saying his name had blood rushing into her cheeks until they felt like they were on fire.
“As intheSam? Samuel Harwood?”
“Who’s Samuel Harwood?” Pete asked from the side of his mouth. “And what’s a cockwaffle?”
“Sam was Hannah’s older sister’s high school boyfriend,” Cesar explained. “Hannah’s been in love with him since she was in braces. And a cockwaffle is her favorite expletive when—”
“Shut up. Shut up!” She flapped her hand as she stared down at the number glowing on her screen. “I need to think.”
She remembered the first time she’d seen those ten digits. It’d been six months earlier and she’d been in the middle of scrounging through the refrigerator for her last tub of strawberry yogurt when her cell had blared to life.
“This is Hannah,”she’d answered absently, pushing aside fancy jars of preservatives and Cesar’s expensive blocks of cheese.
Sixteen years had passed since she’d heard Sam’s voice, but she’d known it was him in an instant. There was no mistaking that deep rumble. Plus, he was the only person on the planet who called her Hurricane Hannah.
She’d been high-key shocked by his request, which had been for her to remotely disengage the security system to a Panamanian telecom guru’s compound. But when he’d said it was a matter of life and death, she’d done as he’d requested.
She’d then spent the next sixteen hours refreshing all her news tabs. And wouldn’t you know it? Reports had begun popping up about an “unknown group of men” rescuing the DEA agent who’d been held hostage.
Coincidence?she remembered wondering.I think not.
Sam had joined the Marines the day after graduating high school. But no matter how hard she’d looked. And she’d lifted every online rock and peeked around every cyber corner, she’d been unable to determine what, exactly, he’d been up to since he left the military with a chest full of medals and a file full of commendations.
In the days following the hack, she’d called his number a dozen times. To her frustration, her attempts to reach him had gone straight to voicemail. And all her text messages demanding an explanation had been left unanswered.
Then, a dozen white roses had arrived at her door. The card attached to them had read: You’re a lifesaver, Hurricane Hannah. And that was the last she’d heard from him.
Until now…
“Think about what?” Cesar waved emphatically at the phone that was still blaring with Lizzo’s unbeatable voice. “It’s Sam! The wonderful, witty, sexy, Southside Sam. The one you haven’t stopped talking about for the last six months. No. Scratch that.” He shook his head. “You haven’t stopped talking about him since I’ve known you.Answer it!”
Blowing out a shaky breath, she thumbed on the device and held it to her ear.
“Sam?” It sounded like someone had shoved a fist full of loose keyboard keys down her gullet. She had to clear her throat before going on. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
