On my way to Hannah’s, I told myself that she was just being neighborly by letting me and Loki come over until our power came back on. I almost had myself convinced of that fact and then she opened the front door and greeted me like an old friend.
She chatted me up all the way into the kitchen. I don’t think she even took a breath—nervous. Hannah was nervous around me which meant that I was under her skin and this time in a good way.
“How were the roads on your way over?”
“Fine, standing water in just a few spots. I’m just glad the rain let up long enough for me to drive to the market and here.”
Bending down to pet Loki her voice changed instantly. “Oh, you are such a handsome boy, Loki.”
Loki nuzzled into her hand, groaning when she rubbed behind his ears.
Lucky dog.
“So what’s for breakfast?” she asked, popping upright.
I patted the bag. “Well, I have all the ingredients to make puff pastry waffles.”
“Puff pastry waffles,” she repeated, and her brows pinched together.
“Yep. Trust me, these are so light and fluffy, they’re life changing.”
After Hannah pulled all the cooking essentials I needed, I went to work in the kitchen. Hannah had filled a plastic container with water and set up a makeshift food spot for Loki in the kitchen. When he had his fill of water, Loki made himself comfortable in the living room, curling up with half his body on the hardwood, half on the carpet.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. I dragged my gaze towards the windows. The sky began to turn dark again.
She sagged into a chair at the kitchen island. “Help yourself to some coffee. I set a mug out for you by the coffee maker.”
“Thanks, I’ll grab a mug in a minute.” I rinsed off the fresh raspberries and laid them on a paper towel to dry.
“So, I’m the person you call in an emergency situation, huh?”
I cocked my head in her direction. “What do you mean?
Her index finger traced the rim of her coffee mug. “Don’t you have any friends? You’ve lived here what, three years? And you say my social skills need work.”
I chuckled, there’s that feisty mouth. “I have friends. And for your information, my brother lives about thirty minutes from here. So that counts, right?”
“So many questions.” She shook her head. “You have a brother?”
“I do,” I admitted, unfolding the pastry onto the cutting board. “He’s a physical therapist. Athlete’s spend time on his ranch working out and just focusing on rehabilitation.”
“Wow, the mystery of Wyatt Hamilton keeps unfolding, much like that doughy goodness there.”
I lifted a shoulder. “Can you really be that much of a mystery when you have a Wikipedia page?”
She eyed me over the rim of her coffee mug. “Guess I missed that part of your profile when I went . . . researching.”
Laughing, I abandoned the pastry and poured a cup of coffee. “You, on the other hand, are quite the mystery.” I raised the coffee pot in her direction.
Hannah nodded. “There’s not much to tell, really.”
“Boo,” I teased, refilling her cup.
On a laugh, she rolled her shoulders back. “Okay, here it goes. I was once someone’s wife. I had two sons, now I have one. I work at a restaurant and serve omelets to arrogant men with Wikipedia pages.”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes, what?”
“Sometimes, I can be arrogant.”
Thunder boomed and seconds later the lighting flashed lightening up the sky over the mountains.
“It’s getting closer.”
She drew one leg up to her chest. “This is going to go on all day isn’t it?” she asked, resting her chin on her knee.
Her hair was soft and wild all at once. The green in her t-shirt amplified the blue in her almond-shaped eyes. Even her knees were sexy and those legs stirred the filthiest of fantasies.
Although the question was most likely rhetorical, I still answered. “According to the weather report it is.” I crossed back into the kitchen. Eyeing my pastry, I began cutting each sheet into equal squares.
“Making pastry puff waffles wasn’t on your Wiki page and neither was your apparent need for lemon-raspberry cupcakes. Do you have a sweet tooth?”
“I guess maybe I do, but yesterday would have been me and Kate’s tenth anniversary. We had lemon-raspberry cupcakes at our wedding. I don’t know what possessed me to go to the bakery and buy them, honestly.”
She stared at me her blue eyes filled with concern. “I’m sorry, Wyatt.” Her voice was barely audible. “I didn’t mean to . . .”
“It’s okay, really.” A heavy ache bloomed in my chest when Hannah stared at me like that. I wasn’t sad and there was no reason Hannah should feel bad. I had my days for sure, but yesterday I was grateful to not be alone—to have something to do other than sit in an empty house and wallow in my painful memories.
Before I could say anything more, my phone buzzed and it wasn’t a weather report. Not at all. Matthew Barber, Hollywood’s biggest action star was calling me.
“Matthew, hey,” I answered, preheating the skillet. “It’s been a while.”
“Hey, man, sorry to disturb you on a Sunday, but I wanted to let you know the good news—The First Lights has been confirmed for the Venice Film Festival.”
“Wow, that is awesome to hear, congrats.”
He cleared his throat. “Would you want to come out for the premiere?”
“I can’t. First week of school is approaching and then there’s the first game of the season.”
Truth be told I didn’t have any desire to go to Italy, at least not for something like this—glitz, glam and celebrity. I left that life a million years ago. But I was thrilled about this film and especially happy for Matthew.
“I understand,” he laughed. “I remember those days and they were the best.”
“The good ol’ glory days,” I added.
“No doubt. Well, have a good one. I’m off to play in the surf.”
“Thanks for calling. Congrats again, buddy.”
I ended the call and placed my phone on the counter. When I looked up, I found Hannah in front of me resting her hip against the island. I turned back to the stove dropping the pastry into the skillet.
“What’s with the all the congratulations business?”
“Well,” I began, turning back to face her. “Since you asked. A few years ago, a pal of mine—he’s a screenwriter—wrote a story about an ex-NFL player who dropped out of the spotlight at the top of his game to live a quieter life in a small mountain town.”
Hannah appeared beside me. “Is the movie about you?”
I flipped the pastry. “Shades of it are loosely based on my life. They added in a second-chance romance twist, which hasn’t happened for me, yet.” My eyes met hers.
Averting her gaze, Hannah played with the gold chains around her neck. “That’s awesome news about the movie. So I take it that the project was given the green light?”
I plated the pastry and added another to the skillet. “Actually, it’s already completed, and the actor that portrayed me or the likeness of me was the one who called.”
“Really? And who is this actor?” she asked, using air quotes when the word actor rolled off her tongue.
I cocked a brow. “You don’t believe me?”
She laughed. “No, I think you’re spinning a tall tale for my amusement.”
“Well, I’m not sure what I did exactly to give you the idea that I’m a teller of tall tales.”
She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, so let’s say for a moment that you are telling the truth. Prove it.” There was a teasing tone in her voice.
“The movie is called The First Lights. Look it up on IMDb.”
Hannah busied herself with her phone while I finished up the waffles—making us four each. I couldn’t help it—a smug smile tugged the corners of my mouth as I hummed the lyrics to Chase Rice’s “Three Chords & The Truth.”
“Shut the front door,” Hannah exclaimed.
I closed my eyes and the feeling of satisfaction rolled through me. The urge to pump my fist in the air like Judd Nelson’s character in The Breakfast Club was strong, but I resisted.
“Matthew Barber is you,” she said. “I mean he’s playing you in a movie?”
“Yep.” I answered, grabbing two forks and napkins then placing them on the table.
“But, you two look nothin’ alike.”
I laughed, adding the final touches to our breakfast. “Well, like I said the story is loosely based on my life and Matthew is a good dude—this movie means a lot to him.”
“Ten minutes ago, Hollywood and Tinsel dot com reported that the movie had been confirmed for the Venice Film Festival.” Her blue eyes met mine. “That’s why Matthew called you, isn’t it?”
Scooping up the plates I eyed Hannah. “Sit, and eat. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but you need to put this in your body immediately.”
Your body—her body.
A quiet thought crept up in the back of my mind pulling me from the moment. I’ll never have Hannah. No matter how much I crave her . . . there’s no way I can have her. It would be inappropriate.