I tried to grab his wrists. Instead, he grabbed mine, pul ed them over my head and, after a brief tussle, held them in one hand.
“Don’t cal me dude,” he said but he was grinning.
I frowned.
“Dude,” I replied, just to be stubborn.
At my use of the word “dude” he used his free hand to torment me by tickling me again.
Half-giggling, half-squirming under him, some of the time shouting at him to stop, alternating with cal ing him dude just to be annoying, we eventual y rol ed off the couch.
I landed on top of him, my hands were freed, I sat up astride him and I started to search for ticklish spots on Hank (I found none, though he didn’t let me try for very long, as in I was searching for about two seconds). This deteriorated into wrestling (because I was stil trying) which degenerated to groping which became far more serious and we ended up never seeing the end of the movie.
I didn’t mind, it didn’t seem like it was going to be a good movie anyway.
* * * * *
Early Sunday morning, I left for Chicago. I’d packed a few suitcases to take back with me. Hank and Uncle Tex were going to move the rest of my stuff to Uncle Tex’s while I was gone. Hank took my bags out to the car while I finished getting ready at the same time I was eating a breakfast of Hank’s scrambled eggs and toast.
I put my dishes in the dishwasher, grabbed my purse, shoving my lip balm into the easily accessible side pouch (because everyone knew, on a road trip, you needed easily accessible lip balm) and walked out the front door.
Hank was leaning against the side of the hood of my car (which he’d had returned from the impound the day after Bil y was caught). He had his ankles and arms crossed and Shamus was sitting by his legs.
Hank was staring at his feet, looking both handsome and lost in thought.
I nearly tripped at the sight of him but pul ed myself together and walked forward.
Hank’s head came up and he watched me approach him.
When I got to within reaching distance, he uncrossed his arms and ankles, grabbed me and pul ed me between his legs.
My arms went around his waist, I relaxed into him and I rested my cheek on his chest.
“You’re stoppin’ in Iowa?” he asked over my head.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“You’l cal me when you get a hotel,” It wasn’t so much a question as a demand. A worthless demand, we’d already had this conversation.
“Yeah,” I said, feeling my nostrils beginning to sting.
“You’re stayin’ with Annette and Jason when you get there?” he asked, even though he knew that too.
Annette and Jason had left the day before my parents. I had no idea of the state of my loft but I didn’t want anything to do with it anymore. I didn’t want anything to do with any aspect of my life that included memories of Bil y, except to clean it up, pack it up and let it go.
“Yeah,” I repeated.
His arms, already tight, got tighter.
“Jesus, Roxie,” he muttered and his voice sounded hoarse.
My arms got tighter too and the tears started to fal down my cheeks.
“It’s only a few weeks,” I said into his chest but you could hear the tears in my voice.
“Yeah,” he murmured.
After awhile, he demanded quietly, “Look at me, Sunshine.”
I tilted my head back to look at him. The minute I did, his came down and he kissed me.
I knew Hank’s light kisses, necking kisses and make-me-dizzy kisses. This was a forth kind of kiss, long, sweet and ful of promise. It might have been the best of them al (okay, maybe not, but a close second).
His mouth came away from mine and he wiped the tears from my cheeks. Then he walked me to the driver’s side, his arm hooked around my neck, mine around his waist. He gave me a light kiss, I got in, started the car, looked up at him and gave a weak smile and a stupid wave and I drove away.
At the end of the block, I looked into the rearview mirror and he was standing in the same spot, eyes on my car, Shamus at his side.
I turned the car left toward University Boulevard.
* * * * *
When there was nothing but highway in front of me and Denver in my mirrors, I pul ed out my cel , flipped it opened and said Hank’s name into the phone. It rang twice.
“You okay?” he asked in greeting.
“My life began when I met you,” I told him.
There was a beat of silence.
Then, I heard him say, “Sunshine –”
I flipped the phone closed, pushed it deep in my purse but it rang once before I turned up Springsteen and I started singing with him to “She’s the One”.
Together, Bruce and I drowned out the sound of the ringing phone.
* * * * *
Now, I was back. It was nearly noon. I was on I-25 and wel into Denver when I pul ed out my phone, flipped it open and said Hank’s name.
I was now beyond nervous, no longer excited, just total y scared to death.
For three weeks, Hank and I had talked almost daily.
He’d missed cal ing me twice (I counted) because of work.
Sometimes, we could only talk for minutes; three times (I counted) we talked over an hour.
“Jeez, Bitch! Starving people in Africa would get a new lease on life with the money you two spend on phone cal s,” Annette shouted each of the three times.
I ignored her.
Never did Hank give an indication he was going to back out.
Always, he was just Hank.
Stil …
In my car, Denver sliding by me, I listened to the phone ring and held my breath.
On the second ring, he answered.
“You in Denver?” he asked by way of greeting.
I let go of my breath. “Wel , hel o to you too,” I answered, sounding uppity.
“Sunshine, are you in Denver?” Hank repeated.
“You could say hel o. It’s the nice thing to do. What?
Have you been taking Luke Etiquette Lessons while I’ve been gone?”
I was trying to cover my nerves.
A beat of silence and then, “Sweetheart, I’m gonna ask one more time…”
I bit my lip.
Then I said, “Yeah, Whisky, I’m in Denver. Exiting I-25
now.”
“See you at our place.”
Then he disconnected.
I flipped my phone shut and my brows drew together.
Our place?
He must mean Fortnum’s.
I pointed my car toward Fortnum’s.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Our Place
I walked into Fortnum’s and everyone was there.
Everyone, that was, except Hank.
Lee, Mace, Vance, Eddie and Luke were relaxing on the couches with Jet sitting on the arm of the couch by Eddie.