Chapter Seven
Hannah sat in the car watching Matt, fingers itching to trace the curves and swirls of the tribal tattoo peeking out from under his shirt sleeve. She forced herself to look away, turning her attention to warming her frozen skin now that the heater had finally kicked in. Slipping her feet out of her shoes, she held her toes right up under the vent so they could thaw out.
For his part, Matt remained stoically silent. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his jaw flex over and over, and he looked like he might try to rip the steering wheel off the car altogether. She held back a sigh. What she was doing with him? This couldn’t be a good idea. It didn’t matter how well he kissed or how good she felt with his arms around her again. He was still the guy who’d stopped answering her emails after a few weeks. That had hurt her, to know that she could be so easily forgotten by someone important to her. To think that she was never as important to him. He’d broken her heart.
She needed to remember that. Whatever she decided to let happen between them, she needed to remember that she was never as important to him as he’d been to her.
When he pulled into a driveway and turned off the car, Hannah let out a sigh of disappointment, looking down to put her shoes back on. They were still warm from the heater, but it didn’t feel as good as having the hot air blowing directly over her toes.
“Are you okay?”
She looked up and gave him a little smile. “Yeah, fine. My toes are still cold, though, and now they don’t have hot air blowing on them.”
With a wicked glint in his eye, he returned her smile. “I’ll make sure you get nice and warm inside. Come on.”
He got out of the car before she could respond, meeting her at her door, offering his hand as she set her feet unsteadily on the uneven concrete of the driveway, rocks and pebbles scattered around, barely visible by the light thrown from the porch. He led her up to the front door, holding her hand the whole way.
After flicking on the light just inside the door, he dropped her hand. Moving into the living room, Matt scooped up a couple of empty bottles and a plate from the coffee table that sat in front of a battered-looking couch. A blanket lay over the back, and a few mismatched throw pillows nestled in the corners. An equally battered tan recliner sat next to it, signs of wear at the corners, the arms and seat darkened from use and age. Her eyes ran over the space, taking in the large flat-screen TV, video game consoles, controllers, and assorted electronics stuffed in a small entertainment center that was the same as hers.
“Make yourself at home.” She looked up at the sound of Matt’s voice as he disappeared through a doorway at the back of the room into the kitchen. He poked his head back around the open doorway. “You want anything to drink? Beer, water, uh …” He trailed off and disappeared for a second. “Yup, beer or water are the choices. Megan would be mad if someone drank the last of the milk.” His head came around again. “So?”
Hannah shook her head, confused. “You live with a girl?”
Matt chuckled and came back to the living room with two open bottles of beer in hand. He handed one to her, and she took it automatically, waiting for his answer.
Tipping back the bottle, he took a healthy swallow and nodded. “Yeah, Megan moved in with Chris and me in August. They’re together.” He pointed toward a doorway off to her right, in the wall behind the recliner. “That’s their bedroom.” He nodded toward an opening on the opposite wall adjacent to the kitchen doorway. “My room and what’s become Megan’s painting studio are that way. As is the bathroom if you need it.”
Absently sipping her beer, she glanced around the space. There were paintings on the walls, abstract looking ones full of nuanced shading as well as landscapes of local landmarks. Matt turned his head to follow her gaze. “Megan did those. When she ran out of wall space in their room she started putting them up out here, claiming that we were barbarians for never having decorated. She’s also responsible for the pillows and blankets.” He shrugged. “When it was Lance, Chris, and me, we didn’t give a shit so we never bothered.”
Hannah nodded dumbly, unsure of what to say. Stepping toward her, Matt took the beer from her hand and set it on the coffee table along with his. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, which made her realize she still had on his sweatshirt. It almost covered her dress, and she could imagine how ridiculous it must look, but the heat in Matt’s eyes told her he disagreed with her assessment. She drew in a sharp breath.
His hands traveled up her arms to cup her jaw and the base of her skull, tilting her head up so he could touch his lips to hers. A brief touch, so light that she almost questioned whether it actually happened. From the look in his eyes, she’d expected to be devoured, but instead he touched her lips with his again. And once more before pulling back to look down into her face. “Are you still cold?” His voice came out as a rasp.
“Yeah.” Hers was breathy and soft, too. He pulled her with him toward the couch, settling her with her back against the arm and her feet in his lap. He slipped her shoes off, then pulled the blanket over her but left her feet exposed. His
