"Of course. I'll just put the meal on your tab?"
"Yes, thank you, Jamie."
I slip a couple of twenties under the edge of the plate for a tip, then flash Hanna a grin. “I know how to make sure no man in town will even consider being inappropriate with you.”
“Really? How?”
“By announcing to the world that you’re with me.” Leaning close, I whisper in her ear. “I want to tell the entire town that you’re my girl. Is that being bossy again, or is it a good idea?” My breath stops as I wait for her answer.
She smiles slowly, fluttering her eyelashes. “It feels ultra-fast.”
“It is. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
“What if you change your mind tomorrow?”
As if that would ever happen. “Highly unlikely. But if you change your mind aboutme, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still protect you.”
Her eyes sparkle and dance. “You’re aware this is totally crazy, right?”
“I am.”
“Okay. I’m curious. Whatever your idea is, go for it.”
I read something once about Marilyn Monroe being able to walk around with a scarf over her hair, and people wouldn't realize who she was. If she wanted to be noticed, all she had to do was sort of lift her chin and adjust her posture. Within seconds people would begin whispering, "Look – that's her!"
Strangely, my brothers and I have a similar kind of thing. If we truly try, we can be mostly ignored, at least until someone examines our faces straight on. Then there's no mistaking who we are.
Well, now it's time for me to pull a Marilyn Monroe. I would never have imagined doing that before today.
I stand up, taking Hanna's hand. Normally I soften my voice, since it's deep and tends to boom. Now I let it ring out through the restaurant. "Shall I take you home, darlin’?”
I've seen many wonderful things in my life: blazing sunsets, incredible summer storms, and iconic works of art in museums around the world. Nothing comes close to the pure beauty of Hanna's smile at this moment.
"Sure," she murmurs.
On the way out, I make a point of flashing a grin to every other diner. Once we're on the street, I slip an arm around Hanna and keep it there while wishing everyone we see on the street a good evening. We take the long way back to my truck, passing two more restaurants and a café. At each front window, I look in and make eye contact, nodding a greeting to anyone who looks even vaguely familiar.
By the time we get to the truck, Hanna is failing miserably at holding back her giggles. "They all looked completely shocked!” She slaps my arm playfully as I unlock the door. "You could've been wearing a hat decorated with glow sticks and rubber chickens and they could not have been more amazed."
I’m surprised at how easily I laugh with her, but I like it. "They know I'm not a people person. I've never been seen out and about with a woman. Trust me, this is big news that will be all over town within the hour." I help her into the truck, making the most of the opportunity to hold her elbow and lean in close.
She gives me her address, then as we drive, I ask, "Other than the potential for men to be…well,men… How is the rest of your job?"
"Not bad. Mainly sorting and organizing shoeboxes. Nothing thrilling, but it's fun updating the displays around the store and in the front window once in a while."
I pull up in front of a modest red brick house. "You’re close enough to walk to work, so I guess you don't need a car. That would help keep expenses down. Although I'm sure your aunt is paying you fairly."
I turn just in time to see a strange expression pass across her face. Racing around to her side of the truck, I help her down, then wrap my arms around her. "Hanna, please tell me she’s paying you what you deserve."
Her body feels so good against mine, but I hate the way she trembles. “I've had part-time jobs before, but Aunt Blaire says that shoes are an entirely different market. So technically, I was an unpaid intern for the first two weeks, then got bumped to minimum wage. I get the apartment at fair market rent, of course."
Jesus. For the moment, Hanna seems okay with it, so I don't want to upset her, but I’m going to fix this.
There's a wide stretch of lawn between the houses, and I take her hand and lead her to a flowering tree. Her aunt’s yard is pretty untidy compared to the next door neighbor, featuring a few underwatered buckets of plants, scraggly grass, and a cobbled together pizza oven structure made with what seems to be leftover bricks.
"Look." I point up at the perfect crescent moon above us.
"So pretty," she whispers.
