Hannah and the Hitman

Chapter 23

23

HANNAH

Instead of going to my apartment, I went across the hall to Brittany’s. Knocked on the door. She answered right away, a carton of Chinese food in her hand. Her feet were bare, but she still wore her business casual clothes from work.

“Lo mein?” she asked, stepping back to let me in, while she used chopsticks to fork more noodles into her mouth.

“No, thanks.” I shut the door behind me. “I had pizza with Jack after he fingered me to orgasm in the V through Z fiction shelves.”

A noodle fell from her mouth. She swallowed hard, then asked, “What?”

“But wait, there’s more.” She and I met for lunch the day before. Soooo much had happened in that short of time.

She went to her couch, dropped onto it and pointed at the other end, indicating I was to settle in for a long night of her grilling me. Her apartment was better decorated than mine. More stylish chic than my IKEA garage sale style. “That’s not all?”

I shook my head. “There’s also this.”

Jack had made me forget I could lift heavy things.

Her coffee table was solid wood. Literally a two-foot-thick slice of a cottonwood tree. The top had been sanded and shellacked to a high gloss. It was rugged but was a fun contrast to the soft pink palette of her living room. It also took two burly movers, a dolly, a hefty tip, and a six pack of beer to get it moved in. Meaning, it was heavy.

If I was right, then I could lift it.

I squatted down like I was weightlifting in the Olympics, wrapped my hands around the bark covered sides, and picked that thing right up.

Two magazines and a scented candle slid off and onto the thick shag area rug.

As I settled it back onto the floor, I couldn’t miss Brittany’s stunned expression.

She cleared her throat. “I think we need some wine.”