He relaxed back, a goofy grin on his face. For his part, Sam had gone perfectly still. Interesting. She couldn't wait to tell Claire about her brother's very atypical behavior.
Beth flipped up her heavy ceramic mug. “May I have some?”
The waitress—Josie, according to her name tag—blinked a few times as if trying to remember why she was here. “Uh, yeah.”
“Josie.” Sam's low voice rumbled.
A tight smile pinched Josie's cheeks tight and her eyes darkened to the color of hardened steel. With a jut of her hip, the straightening of her spine and the tilt of her jaw, her body morphed from that of a friendly waitress to a hard-ass chick who just might steal someone's lunch money. “Do I know you?” She cocked her head to one side sending her curls bouncing. “Oh yeah, you were at the poker game too, right? Scotch, neat, if I remember correctly.”
“I—”
“You're hungry? Well, you came to the right place. Let me get your orders.” Holding her pen at the ready, she turned toward Chris. “What can I get you?”
After writing down the brothers' orders, Josie hurried back to the counter. There, she whispered with another waitress before disappearing into the kitchen.
“What in the hell was that all about?” Chris prodded.
“None of your business.” Sam snapped his menu closed and shoved it into the menu holder in the middle of the circular table.
“Oh really, well—”
“Drop it.”
Chris held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, whatever you say big brother… So you don't mind if I try to get her number?”
Sam's shoulders tensed and he got right into his brother's face until their noses nearly touched. “I don't care what you do. Go for it.”
“Hey there folks, here are your drinks, two waters and a Coke.” A middle-aged waitress with mousy brown hair carefully placed the glasses on the Formica table. “Josie went on break, so I'll be taking care of you from now on. Your orders will be right up.” With a curt nod, she strode off.
Fixing Chris with a glare, Sam gulped down half of his water before slamming it down. “Don't say a word, Chris, not one single word.”
Chris opened his mouth then, thinking better of it, clamped it shut.
Brothers. If they didn't love each other so much, they'd have killed each other long ago.
A bell jingled when the front door swung wide. Hank sauntered in, worry lines visible from across the room. But as soon as his gaze met hers, those lines eased and his lips curled into a relieved smile. Her heart flipped and flopped in her chest. If she didn't get a handle on her feelings, she was doomed.
“Hey.” He sat down and stroked a wide palm down her hair, stopping at her shoulder. His hand rested there and her nerves buzzed with awareness. “Are you okay?”
No. Not as long as he touched her. Hell, not as long as he was in the same hemisphere.
“Fine, thanks for asking.” She raised her injured arm, making it throb enough to distract her from Hank's touch, burning her like a branding. “A few stitches and I'm as good as new.”
His hand slid up the column of her throat until he cupped her chin, tilting it upward. Her breath hitched and blood rushed in her ears, drowning out the clatter of silverware and shouts of “order up”. Of its own volition, her body arched forward and her lips parted. A taste. She only needed a taste of him and she'd walk away.
The kiss scattered all thoughts of leaving. Her lips widened, welcoming his demanding tongue, and her own curled around it. A tingling started in the pit of her stomach and grew until she was on fire with wanting. Nipples hard and pussy wet, nothing else mattered but this moment, this kiss.
Hank could have tossed her onto the table and fucked her senseless while the short-order cook flipped hamburgers in the background. She wouldn't have given a damn.
“Okay then, I guess Sam and I will be taking our drinks over to the counter.” Chris coughed, a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter.
Dazed, Beth pulled away from Hank and licked her kiss-swollen lips. She should be embarrassed, but after all that had happened, she just didn't have the energy for it. Instead a languid sense of wellbeing had seeped into the marrow of her bones. A girl could get used to this.
She sighed, half in defeat and half in contentment. If she didn't put a stop to it, she'd get so used to it that she'd wake up one day knowing she'd stolen Hank's dream of having his own family of Laytons. Because there was no denying it, he wanted her just as much as she needed him. For both of their sakes, she had to get back to neutral territory.
“Ignore Chris, he's an idiot.” Hank didn't even bother to glance ove
r his shoulders at his retreating brothers. He scooted over, so close their legs touched from hip to knee.