I extend my hand and the beautiful woman takes it, her palm soft and warm in mine. "Hanna Myers. But really, you don't have to… I mean…"
"Hanna." I lean as close as I dare, still holding her hand as I whisper near her ear. "I've never seen a woman as beautiful as you. If this dress makes you smile, I need you to have it."
Straightening up, I flash her a cheeky wink. "Also, snacks make people happy. I think we should have dinnerandsnacks. What do you say?"
She smiles, looking up at me with a smile blossoming across her pretty face. I'm going to remember this moment and the light in her eyes for the rest of my life.
"Sure." She grabs her things and I tell the saleslady to put the dress on my family account, along with anything else she’d been trying on that she liked.
Hanna turns to grab her purse as another saleswoman appears holding two bags, one with the clothes Hanna wore into the shop and the other with the new items. She also quickly cuts the price tag out of the dress. I take the opportunity to glare at the black-haired woman. "You will never make Hanna feel small or insult her again. Do you understand?"
She nods quickly, her eyes narrowed to slits. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wolfe, I?—"
I turn on my heel, taking Hanna's arm as we walk out of the shop. Once we're three doors away, Hanna bursts out laughing. "I've never seen anyone shut Aunt Blaire up like that before. Thank you."
She looks up at me with another of those precious, soft smiles. "Thank you for the dress. You really didn't have to."
"Didn’t have to make you smile, when she was being nasty? Yes. I really did.” I turn to take her hand. "I know: I'm being too forward. But I've never had this feeling about anyone before – this need to make you happy, and to make you understand just how truly stunning you look in that dress."
Her cheeks turn pink, and her shoulders cave again.
I place my hands on them, easing them back, then tipping her chin up with my finger. "See? I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be rearranging your body when I barely know you. It's wrong. But here we are."
She laughs. "You know, you're right. She does make me feel small. All the time."
"Do you like Mexican food?"
"Yes."
"Have you been to Herbie's Hideaway?"
She shakes her head, sending a few tendrils of hair swirling around her cleavage, which makes it impossible not to stare. "No. I've only been here for a few weeks.”
"Well, please consider me a one-man welcoming committee. You can ask me anything you like about the town. But first…" A store between us and Herbie's catches my eye.
"We’re making a three-minute pit stop. I need to look like I deserve to be with you.”
2
HANNA
When I first caught a glimpse of Knox in the store mirror, I thought he was handsome, with those dark, mysterious eyes.
But then he ran into a menswear store and quickly bought a black button-down shirt that stretches over his shoulders and chest in a way that suggests he’s a barely restrained, hungry wild animal.
My stomach quivers from the way he looks at me. I’ve never felt flushed with desire like this – it’s a wave of heat washing down my spine and then up my thighs.
Also, he got a green silk tie that matches the color of my dress exactly. What kind of man pays attention to details like that? It's sweet.
It was weird that my aunt suddenly shut up when she heard his name. That’s not like her. I'm going to have to find out what’s up with that.
Herbie's Hideaway is utterly charming. Knox keeps an arm protectively around me as we walk in, which I like. Not that anything bad would happen in a nice town like this. But it'scausing all kinds of electric sparks to surge through my nervous system.
I’ve never been so close to a gorgeous, tall…maybe around six foot three?…man who looks like he could bench press a truck. Plus, there’s a tattoo on the side of his neck that makes me wonder if he has more ink elsewhere. It makes for an interesting contrast to his nearly shaved, almost military haircut, with a scruff of two-day beard.
I get the distinct impression that Knox doesn’t really like being around people. There’s a prickly look in his eyes, as if he doesn’t want to be noticed.
A hostess with a blonde ponytail snaps to attention as she takes us in. "Good evening, Mr. Wolfe." Her gaze drops to the list on the stand in front of her. "Do you have a reservation tonight?"
