Chapter Eleven

Hanna hadn't laughed this much in months. Maybe longer.

She enjoyed his company over lunch, and during their quick stop at the hardware store for supplies. Everyone greeted him by name, which seemed both odd and sweet to her. Very small town. On the drive back out to the house, he informed her it was known around the area as the Yellow Rose.

She liked that. It was both cheerful and distinguished enough for a house with so much rich history. The instant he'd told her that, she could already picture the Victorian painted in yellow and white, with pops of blue and lavender—just like an Easter egg.

"I have this thing tonight," he said. "I'd really like it if you'd come with me."

"A date?" she asked, her eyebrow raised in question.

He chuckled, and his deep voice washed over her like a warm caress. "Nothing so intimate as that. It's bingo night at the rec center, and I am in charge of calling the numbers. It can get a little wild, and I could really use the help if you're not busy."

"Bingo? Wild?"

"Our residents take their bingo seriously. Come with me tonight and you'll see what I mean."

Hanna knew she should say no, but she couldn't. Not when he'd dangled wild bingo out there for her to witness. How could she go the rest of her life and not see a spectacle like that?

"Okay," she said. "I'm in. As long as it's not a date."

"Sweetheart, if we go on a date, you'll know it," he said, shooting a warm, potent smile in her direction.

His confidence made her tingle all the way down to her toes. That sexy grin made her belly clench around an empty ache. His thick forearm rested on the console between them, so close she would barely have to move to touch his tanned skin.

Lunch and laughter had been a potent aphrodisiac, loosening her resolve to keep her hands to herself. No touching, no dating, no sex.

Hanna shivered, and it had nothing to do with the soft sweep of the summer breeze coming in through the open windows to slide over the bare nape of her neck.

She needed to get laid.

It had been way too long since she'd had sex, and her body was making its needs known. Like any other hunger or thirst, the longer she went without, the more desperate she'd get.

If this kept up, she was going to have to get herself off just to keep her lips to herself.

"Bingo it is," she told him, but her voice wobbled precariously on the words.

He glanced at her as he drove up the cracked driveway toward the Yellow Rose. Concern flickered across his face, but as soon as his gaze hit her, the corner of his mouth lifted in a knowing grin.

She wasn't hiding anything—at least not from him. A man like Nate would have seen sexual need on a woman's face enough times to know it on sight.

His grin widened as he stopped the truck in front of the little garage apartment. "I'll pick you up at four. They serve dinner at the rec center, so come hungry."

Hanna slipped out of the truck, feeling the damp glide of her panties across her slick mound. "I don't think that will be a problem."

***

She wanted him.

That was the thought that lightened Nate's stride and straightened his spine as he went about the rest of his day. A quick stop by the motel he owned told him all was well there. The rooms were all clean and ready to receive tonight's guests. The supplies he'd ordered had come in, and nothing had been broken or stolen the night before.

His next stop was at the lumber yard where he went over his order for supplies to start repairs on the Yellow Rose. He'd been working with Bill for years, so the job went faster than he'd expected. There was still time to run by his house, shower, shave and change before he went back out to pick up Hanna.

Not that this was a date or anything, he reminded himself with a grin.

Let her think what she wanted. As long as he got to spend time with her, she could call tonight a church revival for all he cared.

He needed to kiss her again. He knew it wasn't smart to get involved with a woman who was just passing through, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy her while she was here. Sex between consenting adults. Nothing heavy, nothing serious, no strings or promises. Just fucking.

Besides, if that look on her face when he'd dropped her off was any indication, it had been as long for her as it had for him.

He showered and dressed casually, wearing lightweight clothes. Tonight's festivities attracted more retirees than younger folks, so the rec center's thermostat would be set high to make all the little old people comfortable.

Nate's blood was already running hot enough, thanks to Hanna and that sexy body of hers.

His cock jerked to life at the thought of her mouth on his, her body pinned to the wall, kissing him back like she'd die without his breath in her lungs.

Maybe the lightweight shorts weren't such a good idea after all. Still, the idea of jeans was unbearable, so he was just going to have to keep his cock in check. It was bad form to scandalize the elderly with his public boner.

When he went back to pick up Hanna, she was waiting for him on the front porch of the Yellow Rose.

He almost didn't recognize her with her hair down like it was now, long and flowing in soft waves that fell all the way to her slim waist. The light brown locks caressed her breasts and face as they swayed on a gentle breeze.

She wore a pale green sundress that fell just above her knees, showing off the rounded curve of her calves. The strappy sandals on her feet were worn, but showed off pretty peach polish on her toenails.

She'd put on makeup, which lent a dramatic quality to her already beautiful eyes and a soft sheen to her kissable mouth.

He was so used to seeing her with no makeup and her hair in a knotted bun, this new sight shocked him.

She'd been pretty before, but all dressed up like this, she was utterly stunning and completely edible.

He parked the truck and made slow work of getting out. The thin shorts were definitely a bad idea, considering there was no way he was going to keep his cock in check when in such close proximity to a woman as alluring as Hanna.

Her smile of greeting was shy, almost girlish, and it was that expression—so out of line with the vixen she appeared to be—that got this body to cooperate. By the time he'd crossed the yard and made it to the bottom of the steps where she met him, he was once again the master of his own cock.

"You look amazing," he told her.

She smelled even better. Whatever perfume she wore went straight to his head and made it spin a little.

"I wasn't sure what one wore to bingo, so I had to improvise." She lifted a hand self-consciously to her throat. "The dress needs a necklace, but I sold all mine."

"Sold?"

She shrugged. "Had to unload a bunch of stuff before the big move, so I had a garage sale."

He could tell by the tightness in her features that there was more to it than that, but decided not to press the issue.

"I hope the dress is okay. It's the only one I own," she said. "The rest had to go the way of the jewelry."

He steeled his expression to keep any sign of pity from showing. "It's perfect."

And it was. So was she, all perfumed and made up like this, and a small part of him wondered if she'd primped for him. Just a little.

The dimple in her left cheek—the one with no match on the right side—deepened with his praise. "Good. I was worried. I've never been bingoing before." She paused, considering. "Is that even a word?"

"It is now."

He led her to the car, his hand on the small of her back. The silky strands of her hair tickled his skin and made his fingers tingle with the urge to slide deep and get a nice, firm hold.

Hair as long as hers would wrap around his palm at least twice. Once he wound all that wild bounty around his fist, she'd be trapped, unable to get away from him and all the lovely things he wanted to do to her.

He tucked her into the truck and resisted the urge to reach in and buckle her seatbelt. The need to strap her in was strong, but he didn't want to do anything to upset the careful balance they'd struck. She was no longer afraid of him, no longer pushing him away, and he was keeping his mouth off of hers and all her tempting curves.

At least for now.

By the time they reached the Whisper Lake Recreation Center, every handicapped spot was full, and there was a parade of gray heads filing into the building like ants.

"Wow," Hanna said. "This really is a big deal."

"The local pastors only wish they could get this kind of attendance."

He parked at the back of the lot to leave the closer spots for the older people who had trouble getting around. That, and it gave him an excuse to touch Hanna just a little longer as he led her inside.

He wanted to take her hand in his, but that seemed too date-like, and this was definitely not a date—he'd never take her to bingo on a first date. He'd have to settle for his hand on her back, hovering at that sweet spot where her tapered waist met the curve of her ass.

The rec center doors opened into a giant gymnasium-like room, with twenty-foot ceilings and floors marked for basketball and volleyball courts. The bright industrial lighting overhead was caged with protective wires to keep damage from flying balls to a minimum, and made the space daylight bright.

There was a low stage at one end, set up with a table and a white board. In the main area, there were rows of tables and chairs in front of the stage, and a buffet set up along one wall. The regulars had already claimed their lucky spots and set up for warfare. There were stuffed animals, plastic toys, shot glasses, and even one taxidermy cat all standing ready to do their duty and bring their owners good luck. Fat dobbers lay in neat rows, each color holding some meaning to the user that Nate had never quite figured out.

Crockpots and bakeware lined the buffet tables, their contents scenting the air with homemade goodness. At the end of the buffet, set aside a few feet from the rest, was the dessert table. As usual, it was filled to bursting without a single space on the paper tablecloth left to be had.

Beyond that was a giant vat of coffee that would be refilled at least twice tonight, and a five-gallon jug of sweet tea. Nate's mom had insisted that they offer unsweetened tea as an option, but the solitary gallon pitcher that held it would sit untouched all night, as it had for the past year.

Nate had learned at a young age that the older one got, the sweeter their sweet tooth became. Whenever he visited the nursing home, he always did so bearing chocolate.

People were already lined up for food, serving themselves potluck style.

Hanna's gait faltered as she saw the spread. "Were we supposed to bring something?"

"Not us. We're calling the numbers, so we're like minor celebrities-slash-referees. Besides, there's always tons more food than the people here can eat. Come on."

"It's only four-thirty. It's a little early for dinner, isn't it?"

"Not in this crowd. You won't get another chance to eat until all the bloodshed and crying is over, so get it while you can."

"Bloodshed and crying?"

"I told you they take their bingo seriously here."

She smiled like she thought he was joking and followed him to the end of the line.

Mrs. Olive Peony stood in front of them, her leopard print tights clinging to her bony legs. She was somewhere in the neighborhood of seventy, but Nate had never asked what her exact address was. Her hair was dyed a garish shade of purple, and she wore a feathered, rhinestone-encrusted pin tucked jauntily above one ear. Her hot purple T-shirt was tied at the waist, and pictured a little girl in a plaid skirt and knee socks digging in the mud with a small shovel. In bright gold glitter, the caption read, I'M A DIRTY GIRL WANNA PLAY IN MY HOLE?

As soon as Nate got close, she turned to greet them with a warm smile.

Hanna saw the shirt and let out a noise somewhere between a stifled laugh and a shocked gurgle.

Score one for Olive Peony.

"Nate, so good to see you. You're my favorite caller, you know." She pressed her bony hand against his chest, showing off more diamonds than Zales. He imagined that some of them were even real—gifts from her last five husbands. Or was it six?

"Glad you could make it," Nate said. "Bingo is never the same without your sexy voice giving us a thrill."

Her finger trailed down his torso, heading straight south for his belt. He clamped his hand over the wayward digit before she could make it past the border.

"Have you met Hanna?" Nate asked.

Mrs. Peony gave a faint pout. Her long, fake eyelashes tangled together, forcing her to blink several times to disengage the spidery lengths. "A new girlfriend?" She leaned close to Hanna. "I don't mind a little company, dear. Convince Nate here to have a threesome and I'll teach you a thing or two."

Hanna's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

Not a single word came out.

"She's joking," Nate said. "Mrs. Peony likes to shock people with her bawdy sense of humor."

"I'd rather shock you with what I can do with my tongue, but one can't be too picky at my age." Mrs. Peony gave Hanna a long, thorough look up and down her body. "Now, a young thing like you could have any man she wanted. Assuming you know how to use what you've got. If you can't keep Nate sexually satisfied, come see me. I know a few things you could try. First, you'll need a wire whisk, and plenty of lube."

"Okay," said Nate briskly, cutting off all further uncomfortable talk. "It's your turn to fill your plate, Mrs. Peony."

"I keep telling you that you can call me Olive. Or Mommy. Whichever you like best."

Hanna grabbed his hand then and squeezed. But when he looked at her, rather than finding horror on her face, he saw she was trying not to laugh.

"Should I call you Mommy?" Hanna asked, bobbing her eyebrows with overblown, cartoony innuendo.

Mrs. Peony's painted mouth stretched in a wide smile. To Nate she said, "I like this one. You should keep her."

Another woman bustled up, her head down like a battering ram. She wore jeans shorts to her knobby knees, showing off wiry leg hair that probably hadn't been shaved since the sixties. Her bright white socks glared against the black straps of her sandals, but coordinated perfectly with her plain white men's undershirt. She had a helmet of steel gray hair styled in short curls and sprayed in place so that not even a hurricane wind could ruffle it.

Her face was a perfect match to Olive's, only without makeup or fake lashes.

She glared at Olive as she approached, her tone one of weary scolding. "Are you trying to get that boy to fuck you again?"

"Trying?" Mrs. Peony cooed, "Or succeeding?"

"I told you he's not interested."

Mrs. Peony glanced at Hanna. "His girlfriend wants me."

Hanna spoke up. "I'm not his girlfriend."

"So you're a free agent?" asked Mrs. Peony, interest clear in her tone.

Nate wasn't sure how this conversation was going to end, but he was sure that he didn't want to be around to see it. "Hanna, this is Fern Simmons, Mrs. Peony's twin sister."

Hanna held out her hand to the newcomer. "Nice to meet you?" The phrase came out as more of a question than a statement, but Nate couldn't blame her.

Mrs. Simmons pumped Hanna's hand once, with brisk force, then let her go. As soon as that task was done, she turned to her sister, her face stern. "You need to keep your deviant behavior to yourself. This poor girl doesn't want to get your dirty old pussy juice on her. What were you thinking?"

With that, Mrs. Simmons grabbed her sister's ear and drug her out of line.

"Oh my," Hanna said, her eyes still as wide as her smile.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he asked.

"No way. If this is how you all do bingo night, I've got to stay and see what happens."