22. Chapter 22
Chapter 22
The storm last week definitely was one of the worst ones the ranch has ever seen. After dropping off Hannah at Levi’s place on Saturday, I made my way to the ranch as soon as possible. Dad had texted me that we had lost a few fences, some shingles had flown off the barns, the creek was overflowing, and he was afraid some of the new calves were stuck in mud.
After five days of blood, sweat, and tears, everything was done. The fences were mended, roofs fixed, and all moms and calves safe. Although we did have to make the hard choice for one of the calves with broken legs due to being stuck in the mud, but were finally able to sit and relax knowing that all the animals were now safe.
Finally sitting down, after taking a well-deserved shower, my dad hands me a cold beer. Before I can even take a sip, Sadie joins us, “You guuuuys, I chipped my nails helping with the eastern fences; now that we’re all done, can you bring me to the nail salon? Pretty please?”
Making eye contact with my dad, he hurries up and drinks half his beer in one loud gulp. “Sorry, sweetie, I already had a drink,” he says, throwing a smirk my way.
“Looks like it’s a brother-sister date kinda afternoon!” Sadie remarks way too chirpy for my current lack of energy. “Ooo we should stop and get sushi before, and maybe stop at the mall,” she continues, making my dad stifle a laugh behind his bottle of beer as I give him a look.
“We can do sushi, but no mall,” I say getting up, “You’re gonna pay for this old man,” I mumble as I hand my dad my cold beer, making him laugh even harder.
“Aren’t you always telling me to get off my phone?” Sadie asks a few hours later after she’s gotten her nails done and we’re waiting for our sushi order. “Who has you looking at your phone, smiling?”
“No one,” I answer too fast, flipping my phone face down onto the table, not wanting her to see that I was texting Hannah. I love my sister, I really do, but I am never going to hear the end of it when she finds out I like a girl.
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“You sure it’s not a girl?” she asks with a smirk.
“Yes,” I answer again.
“You sure about that?” she repeats, leaning back against the back of the booth, crossing her arms, giving me her I-know- you-better-than-that look, getting comfortable. Getting ready to annoy the answers she wants out of me.
“Yes, now are you done being annoying?” I ask, looking up, praying to have the patience to deal with my sister a little bit longer.
“I’ll stop when you tell me the truth. Is it the girl that you hung out with the other day? That you brought to the ranch when I wasn’t home?” Making direct eye contact with her across the table, I try to see if she’s gonna give in and move on to something else. All I see is determination, the same look she gets before the gates open for a race.
Huffing a breath, knowing she won’t let it go, I pick my battle and answer her, “Yes, it’s Hannah that was texting me.”
“Have you taken her out on an actual date yet?”
Going for the cheap shot I see.
“No, not yet.”
“Are you busy tonight? Once you’re done hanging out with your favorite sister,” she asks just as the waitress brings us our sushi order. Temporarily distracted, Sadie looks at the food and I swear she drools a little as she says, “Oh my God! This looks delicious, thank you!”
Shaking my head, I look over to the waitress. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she answers back before walking away and leaving us to our lunch. As I grab my chopsticks, I cross my fingers that the food has distracted Sadie from our conversation.
“So, tonight?” she asks again, with a full mouth.
“No talking when chewing,” I attempt in a stern voice.
Making a show of swallowing her bite, and taking a sip of water, she repeats, “So, tonight?”
“What about tonight?” I ask, taking a bite.
“Are you busy? If not, you should ask her out tonight,” she says in an exaggerated manner, as if I’m an idiot. I knew what she meant, that she wanted me to ask Hannah out on a date tonight, but that doesn’t give me any time to plan something. I haven’t even started brainstorming. She deserves the perfect first date.
“I’m not busy, but it doesn’t give me much time to think of or plan anything,” I tell her.
“My friend just went on a first date,” she says, making me raise an eyebrow. I know where she’s going with this and there’s no way my first date with Hannah will be a teenage first date. “They went for supper and then went bowling. She said she had a lot of fun since they both suck at bowling—”
Cutting her off, I say, “I am not taking Hannah bowling. She deserves something better than that.”
“I said supper first,” she says, pointing her chopsticks at me then stealing the last piece of spicy salmon roll. “Okay, he did just get her a hotdog and fries at the little cantine-restaurant thing they have in the bowling alley, and I’m not saying to do that, but take her to a somewhat nice supper then go bowling.”
“I’m not taking her bowling,” I say again, grabbing the last rainbow roll.
“Why not? When have you not had a blast bowling? Plus it’s different, plus . . .” She pauses, eating an edamame and taking a sip of water, looking around nervously. Clearly she wants to say something else, but she seems almost too nervous to say it. My overly-confident sister is not one to mince words, it’s one of her best qualities. She always says it as it is.
“Plus what?” I ask, ducking to meet her eyes as my foot nudges hers under the table.
She looks down at her nails. “Plus, by taking her out on a normal, un-showy date, you’ll know if she likes you for you, or if she likes you how Alex liked you,” she says in a quiet voice that I rarely hear her use.
I reach over to cover her hands with one of mine. “That’s a great idea,” I tell her. I hadn’t realized that she was worried that I would get hurt again. She was so young when everything went south with Alex. I didn’t know she knew so much of the details of why we broke up. Although, she always did have a bad habit of eavesdropping on conversations. “She’s friends with Levi, so I doubt she hangs out with me for the wrong reasons, but it’s a good idea to make sure,” I say, reassuring her as she finally meets my eye.
“How about I take her out to that cute italian restaurant dad is always taking you and mom to and then bowling? Does that sound like a safe date?” I ask her, touched that she cares that much about me.
“Sounds like a perfect first date to me, but don’t forget flowers,” she instructs.
“How about I text her right now, then we swing by a flower shop to get some flowers?” I ask, knowing damn well that Sadie deserves flowers as well.
Five hours later, after dropping off a smiling Sadie with the biggest bouquet of pink and orange flowers of her own, I make my way home for a quick nap and then send Sadie way too many outfit options. Finally, standing on Levi’s front porch holding a bouquet of light blue and white daisies, I’m knocking on the door to pick up Hannah for our first official date. Again, not a date, more like an official start of this benefits agreement we have. I wish it was a real date. One that would lead to more than what we agreed on, which explains why my hands are sweaty and why I brought flowers.
I’ve seen her naked. She’s seen me naked. I’ve come way too often to the thought of her naked body and the noises she makes as she reaches her peak to be this nervous. But my hands are sweaty, and I have butterflies in my stomach. The only other time I’ve felt like this was the first time I stepped onto the ice for my first game in the show. This girl has me in knots and before I can even think of giving myself a pep talk, Hannah opens the door, looking as gorgeous as ever, making my jaw drop.
Her golden hair sits in waves over her shoulders, her light blue top not only makes her eyes pop, but shows just enough cleavage to make me remember what’s hiding under the rest of her clothes. Keeping up the slow drag of my gaze down her body, I feel my hands tighten around the flowers I’m holding. My eyes land on a painted-on pair of black jeans as she gives me a little twirl, making my eyes snag on that spankable ass of hers, once again.
“You look gorgeous,” I finally say, after she’s done her twirl and hand her the flowers. “I’ve been told that it’s not an official date without flowers.”
With a blush, she grabs the flowers, making her fingers graze mine, sending the butterflies in my stomach into a whirlwind. “Thank you, come in. I'll put these in water.” Following her into the kitchen, I feel myself get sweatier. Thank God Sadie suggested I go with the black t-shirt.
Why am I so nervous? When has a girl ever made me nervous? Pulling me out of my thoughts, I see Hannah looking at me, waiting for me to answer. “I’m sorry I missed that,” I say, feeling myself turn red.
“I asked if what I was wearing was okay. I know you said casual, but hopefully I’m not dressed too casual,” she repeats.
Without thinking, I say the first thing that comes to mind, “You look perfect.” Running a hand through my hair, I say, “I mean your outfit is perfect for what I have planned.”
With a blush that dips into her tantalizing cleavage, she sets the flowers in a vase on the kitchen island. “I’ll bring these into my room once we’re back.”
“Sounds great,” I say as we spend a few minutes just looking at each other, with her worrying her hands and biting her lower lip. I know I should be getting her into my truck, but I can’t stop myself from focusing on that bottom lip and the blush that just seems to deepen into the swell on her top. Unable to stop myself, I take a step forward to bring my hand to cup the side of her face, using my thumb to free her bottom lip. “How about we make our way to supper before I decide to just bring you home instead.”
With a hitch of her breath, she nods her head “yes” as I grab her hand, leading her to the front of Levi’s house.
A short, quiet drive later, we arrive at the small Italian restaurant, owned by an old Italian couple, Carlo and Fransesca. “I hope you like Italian,” I say as I help her out of the truck, “I should have asked before bringing you here.” I really should have checked with her first. Maybe she doesn’t like Italian food. Sadie would say that it’s a red flag if she doesn’t like Italian, whatever that means. It’s probably a red flag that I didn’t ask. Jesus. What am I doing bringing a girl . . . No, a woman, like Hannah, to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. I should have . . .
Before I can keep spiralling, she grabs my hand and says “Italian is my favorite. Who doesn’t like Italian? It’s all cheese and carbs. Seriously, only walking red flags don’t like cheese and carbs.”
I’m laughing now as I say, “I was just thinking that Sadie would tell me to run if you said you didn’t like Italian food.”
Laughing, she answers, “That girl is smart. Definitely gonna go far in life.”
“If by smart you mean scary, then I agree,” I say with a chuckle of my own as I open the door to the restaurant, letting her walk in first.
Standing at the hostess stand is none other than Fransesca herself.
“Ian!” she gasps, making her way around the stand to give me a hug and a huge kiss on the cheek, leaving it’s usual red lipstick mark. “I saw your name on the reservation list and decided I had to man the house tonight,” she says in a light Italian accent. After decades of living in Canada, her accent has diminished quite a bit, but it’s still there. Just enough for you to know that you’re getting an authentic meal when you walk through the doors.
“And who is this?” she asks, turning towards Hannah.
“This is Hannah,” I say, not elaborating, knowing she likes to gossip more than my mom.
“Hannah, is it?” she asks, extending a well-manicured hand towards a smiling Hannah. “I saw a reservation for two and I expected to see Miss Sadie with you, not this gorgeous woman,” she says with a wink. “I would have expected your mother to call me, or at least text me, to let me know you were bringing a date to my restaurant.” She keeps going as she grabs two menus and starts leading us to the dark, secluded back of the dining room where all the booths are.
“Unless she doesn’t know?” Fransesca asks, gently placing the menus on the corner booth, stepping back so we can take our seats.
“I didn’t tell her,” I answer truthfully.
“It’ll be our little secret,” she says with an over-the-top wink. Turning to Hannah, she says, “It was lovely to meet you, I hope to see you again. Enjoy your evening.” Then Francesca turns to leave with a last glance and small smirk over her shoulder.
The minute she’s out of earshot, Hannah lets out a small giggle. “She seems nice.”
“If by ‘nice’ you mean nosy and probably texting the book club—a book club she started with my mom—that I’m here on a date, then yes, she is very nice,” I say as I take the napkin off the table to wipe at my cheek that I know is marked by her red lipstick. “I’m starting to question why I brought you here.”
“Because we make the best food in town,” Rosalie, Fransesca’s granddaughter, answers before Hannah can say a word. “Nonna told me you were here on a date. I had to check it out myself. I had to see who made enough of an impression on you for you to bring her here, knowing we’d all be intrigued.”
“Hi, Rosalie, nice to see you. How’s it going?” I ask in an annoyed tone. “Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”
“And miss pissing the crap out of you? Never,” she says with a giggle, turning towards Hannah. “Hi, I’m Rosalie but everyone calls me Ro.”
Grabbing her hand for a quick shake, Hannah introduces herself. “Hi, I’m Hannah.”
“So, how did you meet Ian here?” Rosalie asks.
“I live with Levi; how do you know Ian?” Hannah asks right back, showing off some of that sass, making me smile and relax a bit knowing that she can hold her own with this bunch.
“We went to high school together, and his mom gave me riding lessons when I was little.”
Before Rosalie can continue, her name is called from the kitchen. Turning my head, I see Carlos calling his granddaughter over as he gives me an apologetic look before he lets the kitchen door close.
Having the decency to blush, knowing that she just got caught being as nosy as her grandma, Rosalie says, “Well, duty calls.” We both watch her walk off in long strides towards the kitchen.
The minute she’s out of earshot, I look at Hannah. “I figured they would be nosy, but I assumed they would also know better,” I start explaining. “I just know that this is the best restaurant in town, and it allows me some privacy from the general public.”
I shouldn’t have listened to Sadie, I should have taken my time and planned out an actual date.
“This is the cutest Italian restaurant I’ve ever been to. I’m happy you were comfortable bringing me here. Clearly this place is important to you, considering everyone who works here knows you.”
“You don’t have to say that, we can leave if you want,” I offer, knowing that Ro and Franscesca can be a little much, but before I can get too far, her hand darts out and lands on top of mine.
“Ian, I promise you I’m fine. More than fine. Plus it smells too good to leave.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, letting insecurity leak into the question.
Tilting her head with a small smile she says, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were nervous.”
Looking anywhere but at her, I let her comment hang in the air. Apparently, I’m not so good at hiding my nervousness from her. This date has barely started and it’s already going downhill. Sex I do, no problem, but dates are not my strong suit apparently. The one time I actually want to impress a woman I end up embarrassed.
“If it helps, I’m nervous too. I changed my outfit five times and Levi had to steal my phone so I didn’t text you to cancel. I haven’t been on a date in years . . .” She trails off and meets my eyes.
“I haven’t been on a date in years either,” I admit.
“I have the excuse of being married. How come you haven’t been on a date in years? You’re in your early twenties, and from what I’ve heard from the girls and Levi, you aren’t a stranger to women being all over you,” she asks.
I’m saved by the bell, or Rosalie, I should say, as she comes over with a bottle of wine. “I’ve been told to deliver this bottle of wine to you as an apology on behalf of Nonna and me. Please accept our apology and Tate will be your server tonight, not me,” she says in the most monotone voice and with a quick eye roll towards the kitchen, where I spy Carlos, Francesca’s husband, watching his granddaughter pour us each a glass of wine. She walks off as quickly as she walked up to our table, before I can accept her apology or even give her a hard time.
I don’t have to look at the bottle to know it’s a bottle of my favorite wine. Carlos won’t lead me astray tonight, unlike his female relatives.
“Don’t think I’m gonna let you off the hook because I was handed a glass of wine,” Hannah says with a smirk before taking a sip of wine.
Mesmerized by the tip of her tongue as it peaks out of between her lips to swipe the wine off her bottom lip, I don’t think as I say, “Alex. I have the excuse of Alex.”
I don’t know what it is about this girl, but she makes me want to spill all my secrets at her feet. She makes me want to be better. For God’s sake, the other day I saw a baby, and I thought about Hannah. She makes me think about babies, and having what my parents have. I’ve barely gotten to know her, and yet, I want it all with her. I thought I knew what wanting it all felt like when I was with Alex. But that pales in comparison. This consumes me. It makes me understand every time my dad has said, “ Because it makes your mom smile. ”
Before I can change my mind, I take a sip, more like gulp, of wine and start. “Alex is my ex-girlfriend, if you can call someone an ex three years after the breakup. Anyway, long story short, we started dating when we were thirteen. I thought she was the one. I thought that, like my parents, I was one of the lucky ones that met their person at a ridiculously young age. Turns out she didn’t see things that way.” Taking another sip, I continue. “Even though I got drafted by Calgary, I decided the summer before my first training camp to go to Montreal for the summer with a bunch of other first-round picks to work on some skills and get ready for the show. I asked her to come with me, but she said she’d rather stay. I didn’t think much of it, she was starting university in the fall and stuff, but I should have questioned her more about it. We did the long-distance thing, I came back, and it seemed like nothing had changed, other than the fact that she seemed to be enjoying our change in social status more than I was expecting her to. Then October came around, and she told me she was pregnant. I was so excited.” Taking a breath I looked around not wanting to meet her eye. “I knew we were young, but my parents had done it with way less than what I had. It wasn’t until two weeks later, when we went to the first ultrasound appointment and the technician said that the baby looked perfect for twelve weeks . . .” Taking another sip of my wine, I let my eyes wander around the restaurant, unwilling to continue.
That is until I feel Hannah’s soft hand cover mine on the table as she concludes, “Twelve weeks wouldn’t make any sense.”
Repeating her, I say, “Twelve weeks made no sense, our baby couldn’t be more than six weeks. Turns out she had met someone else. She said that my being away for the summer showed her the life that she was setting herself up for with a professional athlete. That she didn’t want that for herself.”
Before I can continue Hannah butts in, “Wait. So this girl decided to tell you that she was pregnant with your baby, but when she saw that you knew the math made no sense, she decided to announce that she had cheated on you at an ultrasound appointment? Then proceeded to blame you for her cheating on you?” Shaking her head in disbelief. “And here I thought Lucas was a bitch.”
“Not my best moment in life,” I agree.
Not missing a beat she says, “If it makes you feel better, my husband did the same thing. I wasn’t, and still am not, ready to have a baby, so he found someone who was. Turns out his twenty-year-old assistant was ready to have a baby. He just didn’t have the decency to let me know before he decided to start trying to have a baby with another woman. Or that he had gotten another woman pregnant. I made the mistake of congratulating her, to which her response was, ‘you should congratulate your husband as well.’”
“You’re kidding me? That’s not how you found out? I think that might be worse than the ultrasound,” I say.
Laughing, she concedes, “I don’t know, I think having the ultrasound technician be part of the big reveal takes the cake.” We just sit there and stare at each other before the both of us start laughing uncontrollably. After a few seconds, or what could be minutes, we finally get ourselves under control and Hannah says, “We definitely make quite the pair.”