Chapter Nine
Hannah
By Saturday, Hannahwas ready to tell Dallas she was sick and cancel their date. They hadn’t spoken since Wednesday night, when she’d made a complete fool of herself, and there was a distinct possibility that he now had regrets.
She’d told him he was great in bed. That it was the best sex she’d ever had. She alternated between burning with mortification and the ice-cold chill of horror whenever she recalled it. She’d thrown herself at him in precisely the same manner Simone had. She made a mental note to be especially kind to Simone the next time she saw her.
By Sunday, however, rather than cancel, she’d decided to be an adult and own her behavior. She’d gone on exactly one date in her adult life and that was coffee with Levi, which could best be considered a test run, because there hadn’t been any sparks. There were sparks with Dallas. Plenty of them. She could be fun without being drunk and she’d prove it to him—to herself, too. She had to give up the whole “sex leads to marriage” mentality she’d had since she was fifteen. Women even voted, these days.
Deciding what to wear had taken her hours—she didn’t know what he had planned—so she went with a flared, sleeveless jersey dress in a bright floral print with pink cowgirl boots and a light denim jacket. She’d pinned her hair in a messy updo and even wore makeup. A brief moment of terror had her worrying she’d underdressed for a date with a billionaire, but most of the time Dallas couldn’t seem to remember he was rich, and since they were kicking the date off with a trip to the Grand Home for Special Care, it seemed highly unlikely.
Dallas texted to say he’d pick her up at two o’clock and she waited for him on the street so he wouldn’t have to park. Guests had to walk through the brewery to get to her apartment and the layout wasn’t ideal, which was the lone drawback to her living arrangement.
The car that pulled up to the curb had her reassessing whether or not he knew he was rich. She’d been on the lookout for his Jeep Cherokee. Instead, he drove an aggressive black Mercedes AMG that looked as if it ran on raw meat rather than gas.
He hopped out of the car to open her door. His casual outfit of jeans, dress shirt, navy sports jacket, and Chelsea boots relieved her. He’d gotten a haircut, too. He’d left it longer on top and the breeze tousled the black curls, but the sides had been somewhat tamed. The light growth of dark stubble that shadowed his chin and jaw suggested he’d shaved late last night and couldn’t be bothered to repeat the process again this morning. Overall, he took an absent-minded approach to his appearance that reinforced the whole “decadent god” theme he had running, not “billionaire.” He smelled wonderful, too. She suspected Tom Ford. She’d bought one of the colognes for her brother for Christmas as a thank you for helping her get her business up and running. She couldn’t see Dallas buying it for himself, however, and somehow, she didn’t think one of his brothers had bought it. A flutter of jealousy tapped at her ribs. She ignored it because they both had past lives. It wasn’t his fault that his was by far the more interesting one.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you. I like your haircut. Nice car,” she added, babbling, because otherwise, she’d simply stand there and stare at him. He was beautiful, too. Very much so.
He leaned on the passenger door while she ducked under his arm and made a valiant attempt to keep her short skirt from riding up in the back as she scrambled into the plush leather seat. Why were sports cars always so awkwardly low?
He shifted his attention from her legs to her face. Humor turned his hazel eyes golden. “The car belongs to Ryan. I like it because it looks like a character in a Batman movie.”
“Bane,” Hannah said, nodding. “I can see that.” It made sense to her that Dallas would choose a car based on how it reminded him of the villain from a superhero movie rather than in an attempt to impress her. “Out of curiosity—do you know what an Amex black card is?”
“You mean my credit card? Ryan gave it to me.”
That explained that.
When they arrived at the nursing home, Dallas insisted she wait while he opened the door. “Marsh will be watching and I can’t have him think I don’t know how to treat a lady,” he said, taking her hand.
He knew how to make a girl feel like a lady, all right. No worries about that.
“Well, don’t you two look swanky,” Marsh drawled when they entered his room. “I see you made peace with your barber,” he added, addressing Dallas, then coughed into his sleeve.
“Afraid not. She can’t be trusted near my throat with sharp instruments, anymore. I had to find a new one in Forsyth. Now let’s get you into your chair. We’re heading down to the lounge,” Dallas informed him.
Hannah loved listening to the back and forth between the two men. Marsh smiled more than he had when she first met him. He stayed awake longer, too. But he was losing weight and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath when he spoke. She didn’t like the sound of his cough, either.
Marsh was a two-person transfer, and Dallas wouldn’t allow Hannah to help because she hadn’t had training, so they called for one of the nursing assistants. By the time they arrived in the lounge, a small group of residents had heard Dallas was visiting and already gathered.
Hannah had assumed they were going to play with the virtual reality headsets. Instead, Dallas turned on the music. Tim McGraw began to croon.
“I promised to take Hannah dancing,” he said to the room, which included a few of the staff members now, too. “What do you think? Want to place bets as to whether or not she can manage a one-step?” His smile grew wicked. “Because I already know she’s got two left feet when it comes to line dancing.”
She’d never live down that YouTube video of her flashing her panties.
“The problem’s got to be you, Dr. Dallie. She’s too pretty to be a bad dancer,” the Santa Claus lookalike said.
“Hold on to that thought, Rudy,” Dallas replied, already moving his shoulders and hips in time to the music. He beckoned to Hannah. A glint of challenge lurked in his eyes.
She slipped her fingers into his and returned his smile sweetly. He knew she could dance. They’d danced together before. This was all in good fun and she loved helping him keep the seniors entertained. “I’ll try to keep up, Dr. Dancy Pants,” she said.
He glided her around the room, his knees nudging her whenever a change in direction was called for. He spun her by the hand on every fourth step so that her short skirt twirled out in a colorful circle. When the song ended, he pulled her close to his chest for a beat, then bent her over his thigh so that her hair skimmed the floor to the enthusiastic applause from their audience.
He whispered in her ear as he set her back on her feet. “See if you can get Rudy to dance. The exercise will do him good. But he might be a little unsteady without his walker, so hang onto him. I’m going to take Bernice for a spin around the floor in her wheelchair.”