“I’m right on time.”
“But today felt ninety hours long.” He grinned and stepped back. “Are you coming in?”
As soon as Hannah crossed the threshold, Rob hauled her up against him and kicked the door closed. She was ready when his mouth claimed hers and she wrapped her arms around his neck. The kiss was hungry and she moaned as he backed her up against the door.
Only when she was melting in his arms and she wasn’t sure if being pinned between his body and the door was the only thing holding her up did Rob break off the kiss. He smiled, the heat in his gaze almost as potent as the feel of his lips on hers.
“Wow,” she said breathlessly. “Way better than a welcome mat.”
“Wait until you see dinner.”
She wouldn’t say it out loud, but the last thing Hannah wanted to do right now was sit down and eat a meal, because food was the last thing on her mind. The first thing on her mind was stripping Rob’s clothes off. But he’d invited her for a date night and dinner was part of it.
She toed off her shoes and kicked them toward the small pile of men’s shoes next to the door, and then she followed him into the kitchen. From what she could see of the house from here, there wasn’t much in the way of decor—which wasn’t surprising since they’d been focused on the campground—and it was badly in need of updating. But it was clean, and not the kind of clean that spoke of a panicked surface cleaning because a date was arriving.
“It was hot today and we both eat a lot off the grill, so I hit my aunt up for her Cape Cod chicken salad recipe and made wraps, with a side salad,” he said. “I hope that’s okay. I do have some microwave pizzas as a backup.”
“Sounds perfect,” she said, and she smiled when he pulled her chair out for her. “The wraps, I mean, though I do like a good microwave pizza from time to time.”
All the anxiety about this date that had built up over the last few hours melted away over dinner. They fell into easy conversation, and Hannah liked that they both seemed to be avoiding talking about anything that could circle back to their families or their jobs.
This night was just about them, as it should be, and the light meal was delicious. It also made for minimal cleanup, which was a bonus.
“What do you want to watch?” he asked while he dried the few dishes they’d used. She’d offered to wash since drying and putting away were hard when you didn’t know where anything went.
“I don’t know. I like most things, but I don’t watch horror. I’m not a huge fan of movies about or set in space. And I should warn you it’s really annoying to watch historical movies or true crime with me.”
“I’ll watch almost anything, but my warning, I guess, is that it’s not a great idea to watch a movie with me if it’s based on a book I’ve read.”
She laughed. “Oh, that probably should have been on my list, too.”
“I suspected that about you.” He chuckled. “It might be fun to watch one based on a book we’ve both read and see which one of us is more annoying.”
“We’d need a third party to judge objectively, and somehow I don’t see people lining up for that job.”
“If Stella was here, we could have her lie down between us and whoever’s speaking when she sighs and leaves the room wins.”
“I’m not sure Stella is impartial,” she pointed out.
“I’ve seen her running off to visit your site.”
Hannah pulled the plug in the sink and used the sponge to wipe around it while Rob dried and put away the last of the dishes she’d washed. Then she wiped down the table and called it good.
“How about a tour of the house?” he asked, running his palms over the sides of his jeans. “I mean, there’s not much to see, but I guess it’s something people do.”
She shrugged. “I’m more of a point-out-where-the-bathroom-is-and-my-bedroom-is-none-of-your-business kind of a host, but it is something people do. And I want to see it. Maybe I can claim I was gathering counterintelligence if the paranoia crowd finds out I was in here.”
“You can tell them you were on a mission to disable the spy doorbells.”
Hannah laughed as she followed him down a hallway, past doors that were closed over enough so she couldn’t see in.
“I guess we’ll start at the end of the house and work our way back,” he said, pushing open a door.
They walked into a small and plain but very neat bedroom. It had a queen bed and a dresser, and a small closet. There was a line of shoes—mostly of the rugged work boot variety—under the window, and a folded pile of sweatshirts on what looked to be an extra kitchen chair. On top of the dresser was a zipped case she assumed held toiletries, and there was one nightstand with a small lamp and a charging dock.
“Straight for the bedroom,” she teased. “I like that. I thought you’d be messier, though.”
“Confession—this is Brian’s room. With fresh bedding, of course, but I, uh... I have a twin bed. Joey and I have twin beds in the other room. Also, hey! Why did you think I’d be messy?”
