hands through his hair. “What’s going on, Hannah? You don’t have just a minute to talk to me?”
“Nope.” She turned on her heels and marched back to the jukebox. It was time to pick another song.
“Fine.” She could feel his breath move her hair. “Then maybe you’ll just listen.”
She punched in the combination for the song, Love Hurts , side-stepped him, and power walked behind the bar. Roxy stood against the liquor shelf along the back wall with her arms folded and eyebrows raised. She ignored her.
A stool at the bar clattered and then scraped along the floor. He’d followed her.
“Rox. I need to get out of here for a while. You got the bar?” She matched her stance and waited while she looked at her and then Chris over and over again.
“Do you need to leave, or is it him,” she paused to tilt her head in Chris’ direction, “who needs to leave?”
Heaven help her, the tears spilled over before she even knew they were coming. “Him, please,” she whispered as she grabbed a clean towel for her face.
“Time you found somewhere else to drink, Chris.”
The seconds ticked by, but she didn’t hear the stool move. She dared a peek over her shoulder. Damn it.
All of the color had drained from Chris’s face, and he flinched when she looked back at him. He shook his head in a slow, disbelieving shake before sliding to the floor and walking out of the bar.
“You sure about what just happened?” Roxy placed a hand on her shoulder. The gesture was too sympathetic for her raw emotions. Hannah lost control and let out a sob.
No one bothered her during the mad dash to the ladies’ room where she burst through the door and locked it behind her. Screw anyone who needed to use it. They’d have to go to the men’s room. There was no way she could go to Roxy's office.
She slid down the door onto the floor and drew up her knees. How dare he come in here and try to talk to her! He had to know she was on to his game.
All these years she thought she knew Chris, but last might had made it obvious he was just another one of the guys. If one quick lay wasn’t available, just move on to the next slut willing to open her legs.
That’s what her father had done for years. When her mother was sober enough to confront him about it, he’d just smack her around until she’d turned to the bottle again.
She’d had her head in the clouds about love and how she would never be like her parents until her senior year in high school. The star football player had asked her out. For four years, they’d been friendly, but on the last day of school he’d asked her to hang out at his house.
Little did she know that she’d been selected as the lucky girl who would be lured into his basement where he and a bunch of his football buddies were waiting to hold her down and force themselves on her. She’d never forget the terror of being held down on the pool table while huge, strong hands ripped at her clothes and touched her in ways no one had done before.
Chris had gotten there just in time. He’d heard through gossip about the plans and raced to her rescue. His deep, steady voice shouting, “Stop or I’ll shoot!” and the sound of the hammer clicking on the gun remained with her now.
She’d thought Chris was different. He’d fooled her into thinking he was one of the good guys.
Now everything had gone to hell. Her worst fear had come true. She’d lost her best friend. She’d also lost the tiny shred of hope she’d had that there might be a chance for her to find true love after all.
Admitting that last one made her stomach cramp. For years she’d pretended to hold out no hope for a loving, lasting relationship. But the truth was, deep down, she’d hoped it could happen. She’d wanted it for herself. And Chris was the one who’d given her that hope.
“Screw him.” She sniffled and smacked her hand against the floor. No one needed love in their life. Right?
She took her time washing her hands and
“Nope.” She turned on her heels and marched back to the jukebox. It was time to pick another song.
“Fine.” She could feel his breath move her hair. “Then maybe you’ll just listen.”
She punched in the combination for the song, Love Hurts , side-stepped him, and power walked behind the bar. Roxy stood against the liquor shelf along the back wall with her arms folded and eyebrows raised. She ignored her.
A stool at the bar clattered and then scraped along the floor. He’d followed her.
“Rox. I need to get out of here for a while. You got the bar?” She matched her stance and waited while she looked at her and then Chris over and over again.
“Do you need to leave, or is it him,” she paused to tilt her head in Chris’ direction, “who needs to leave?”
Heaven help her, the tears spilled over before she even knew they were coming. “Him, please,” she whispered as she grabbed a clean towel for her face.
“Time you found somewhere else to drink, Chris.”
The seconds ticked by, but she didn’t hear the stool move. She dared a peek over her shoulder. Damn it.
All of the color had drained from Chris’s face, and he flinched when she looked back at him. He shook his head in a slow, disbelieving shake before sliding to the floor and walking out of the bar.
“You sure about what just happened?” Roxy placed a hand on her shoulder. The gesture was too sympathetic for her raw emotions. Hannah lost control and let out a sob.
No one bothered her during the mad dash to the ladies’ room where she burst through the door and locked it behind her. Screw anyone who needed to use it. They’d have to go to the men’s room. There was no way she could go to Roxy's office.
She slid down the door onto the floor and drew up her knees. How dare he come in here and try to talk to her! He had to know she was on to his game.
All these years she thought she knew Chris, but last might had made it obvious he was just another one of the guys. If one quick lay wasn’t available, just move on to the next slut willing to open her legs.
That’s what her father had done for years. When her mother was sober enough to confront him about it, he’d just smack her around until she’d turned to the bottle again.
She’d had her head in the clouds about love and how she would never be like her parents until her senior year in high school. The star football player had asked her out. For four years, they’d been friendly, but on the last day of school he’d asked her to hang out at his house.
Little did she know that she’d been selected as the lucky girl who would be lured into his basement where he and a bunch of his football buddies were waiting to hold her down and force themselves on her. She’d never forget the terror of being held down on the pool table while huge, strong hands ripped at her clothes and touched her in ways no one had done before.
Chris had gotten there just in time. He’d heard through gossip about the plans and raced to her rescue. His deep, steady voice shouting, “Stop or I’ll shoot!” and the sound of the hammer clicking on the gun remained with her now.
She’d thought Chris was different. He’d fooled her into thinking he was one of the good guys.
Now everything had gone to hell. Her worst fear had come true. She’d lost her best friend. She’d also lost the tiny shred of hope she’d had that there might be a chance for her to find true love after all.
Admitting that last one made her stomach cramp. For years she’d pretended to hold out no hope for a loving, lasting relationship. But the truth was, deep down, she’d hoped it could happen. She’d wanted it for herself. And Chris was the one who’d given her that hope.
“Screw him.” She sniffled and smacked her hand against the floor. No one needed love in their life. Right?
She took her time washing her hands and
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