The upbeat feeling he had since walking into Moe’s hearing half the place singing loudly to “Your Mama Don’t Dance” died quickly. Hank jerked his head back as if someone punched him straight in his jaw. A chill moved down his spine. Grabbing Arissa’s hand that was laying on the table, he said softly, “Honey, my nights in Charleston stopped.” He assured her, expecting that her sudden illness had to do with his confession. “I’m sure there were guys before me,” he added.
Her heart hurt watching him because she knew down to the bone the man was trustworthy, she just also suspected that his heart belonged elsewhere and that’s what hurt. That she made him think she didn’t trust him…she squeezed his hand. “I’m not upset that you went into Charleston, Hank. And I trust you; don’t doubt you for a second. I think it’s just, honestly, I’ve felt like shit all day, the tension this morning, it’s been eating at me. When we have naked steak, I don’t want the ghost of earlier haunting me.” She smiled. “Besides, it’s just more anticipation.”
“Baby,” he started softly. “I know the shit with my ma is eating at you. But really…” He squeezed her hand. “She means well, just…” He paused, shrugged and ended with, “Overprotective. Once she realizes your intentions are good all will be golden.”
Arissa wasn’t so sure about that, but if things went the way she thought, it wouldn’t matter what Catherine thought of her. To him she said, “I hope so.” She studied him before she said, “Maybe tomorrow night for naked steak?”
Hank didn’t press anymore, just lifted the bottle off the table, drained it and said, “Okay, let’s get you to my place. I’ll run you a warm bath.” He let her hand go and started to slide out of the booth.
This was going to be harder than she thought because all she wanted was to go home with him, but feeling as she was she needed space before she went off to sabotage them. She wasn’t going to be able to go through with it otherwise. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been to my place. I think I’m just going to go home.” She saw the look so added, “There aren’t words good enough to express what you make me feel, Hank. It’s the kind of thing you live for, fight for. You are everything I’ve ever wanted. With your mom, I’m sure in the end it will all work out. I just need tonight, Honey.”
The chill that had run down Hank’s spine resurfaced and coursed through his body. He stopped his exit and leveled his eyes on her. Something more was bothering her. He could see it floating behind her beautiful eyes. The water wouldn’t settle long enough for him to catch what it was. His thoughts of earlier came to the forefront; maybe she really did just need a break. He was just thinking that afternoon how quickly they jumped. He cocked his head and said softly, “Okay, Baby.” He rose from the booth, held his hand out toward her. When she took it, he held hers tightly as he walked her across the street to her car. He didn’t push, although he wanted to. Instead, he gave her a kiss and told her to call him when she got settled.
Hank watched as the distance between them grew, and once she had turned onto Magnolia Lane, he went to his truck, folded in and headed straight for Hya’s house. It was time for another talk.
* * *
Hank opened the door an inch and put his mouth to the opening. “All clear?” he shouted into Hya’s kitchen. He knew a lot about Hya, maybe too much seeing what he did the last time he was there. This time, he wasn’t taking his chances because with Hya you never knew.
“Just in time,” she called back. “Get your ass in here.”
He entered at the sight of Hya with a meat cleaver, her focus on him when she brought it down with too much force on what looked like the best damn ribs he’d seen in a while. She studied him a second. “So, you pull that handsome head out that sexy ass?”
Hank took careful steps inside, not getting too close to Hya’s butcher block island. That counter had more marks in it than a dartboard. He wasn’t stupid, he knew the damage she could do with just words, so any sort of prop in tandem with those words would be extreme fucking torture. “It depends, you still pissed, old lady?” he asked while eyeing the cleaver.
Her cackle was his answer. “Never could stay pissed at you.” She looked behind him. “Where’s your better half? You can tell me while we eat. You know where the plates are.”
Hank let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Moving around her kitchen, grabbing plates from the cabinet and silverware from the neatly placed ceramic colored canisters on the counter, he told her. “You know what you’d be good at? Interrogation torture.” He heard the loud thud of the cleaver on the block and added, “Hell, you’d get all the shit outta them in a day as opposed to the months it takes others.” He placed the dinnerware on the table and headed for the fridge to retrieve the pitcher of margaritas because Hank knew Hya only drank that when she ate her barbecue.
Hya watched Hank move through her kitchen, waited until she caught his eyes and said, “It’s about time you noticed…” She eyed him from head to toe. “How good I am with my hands,” she said with a salacious grin. She plated up the ribs, grabbed the potato salad on the counter and dropped both dishes on the table unceremoniously. “Grab what you want cause I’m fucking starving like I’ve got a goddamn bun in the oven.” Her head jerked to him. “And before you say anything, plenty of action for that just don’t got
