Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Armando
Coming down from post-orgasmic euphoria, I decide it’s time to discuss something that’s been weighing heavy on me since I woke up.
I lean my forehead against Hannah’s. “Am I bad for you? Do you want me to go? Honestly?”
She rolls her head against mine in a negative. “No,” she whispers. “I never wanted you to go. This is what I was afraid of—what I was trying to avoid. But it’s already here.”
“It’s already here,” I repeat. I understand logically, but I have no idea what she feels. I’m empty, and she’s too full. Maybe that’s why we fit. What works for us.
There’s no comprehending Hannah because she’s so different from me and the people I’ve known. That’s why she seems mythical. Her capacity for acceptance is monumental.
I stroke her unruly curls then scrunch them when I find them not so strokable. They were made for fisting, for sure. “So, am I forgiven? I’m sorry I was a dick.”
She lets out a puff of air like a laugh. “We’re good.”
I ease out of her and dispose of the condom in the trash beside the desk. “What can I do around here to help?” I put my dick away and zip up my pants. Retrieve her panties from the floor and squat down to thread them over her ankles.
“Um…” She looks afraid to ask me something.
“Yeah? What? Name it, Flowers.”
“Wanna help me clean out the cooler? That’s what I usually do on Sundays before I open.”
“I’ll clean it. You do whatever else you need to do.”
Her face lights with guilty surprise. She drops off the desk and pulls her panties up. “Really? It’s kind of a shitty job although it will be easier for you because you’re strong.”
I scrunch up my forehead, trying to figure out what takes strength.
“You have to move all the heavy buckets of flowers around to mop up underneath. I usually end up slopping so much water around I get drenched. In the winter, I take my pants off before I go in, so they don’t get soaked.”
My dick sprouts a semi. “Making a note. Be here on Sundays in the winter.”
Her smile is a sweet reward. Hell, I’d clean out a room full of dogshit for that smile.
I already know where her cleaning supplies are since I had to bleach the hell out of her floor. I pull them out and head into the cooler and move all the buckets of flowers to the hallway to sweep and mop.
I’m at it for a while before I realize something: I’m awake. Alive. That hollow-man deadness that settled in hard last night has dissipated. In fact, my whole body’s buzzing. Not just that, but there’s something there I haven’t felt in years.
A thread of happiness.
I’m one week out of the pen with a gang trying to kill me, and I’m buzzing with a newfound contentment.
Hannah makes me happy. That’s the only explanation for it. I like being around her. Things make more sense when she’s around. And of course, the sex is off the charts good.
I hear a scream from the kitchenette, and all that happiness flips to furious purpose.
No one fucks with my girl.
Gun drawn and pointed, I’m there in a flash, readying to fucking kill whoever’s in there. Ready to give up my life if it will save hers.
I whip around the corner and skid to a stop, pointing the gun right and left.
Um…
No one’s in there with her. She’s frozen in the middle of the tiny break room, her eyes wide and terrified.
Because of me. The gun.
I quickly lower it. “You screamed.”
She lets out a shaky laugh and points toward the floor in the corner. “There’s a mouse.”
“A mouse.” I will my heartbeat to slow. Try to take the death grip off the pistol. I flip it to the side and cock my head. “Want me to shoot it?” I deadpan.
She smiles at me and walks forward until her soft breasts press against my ribs. “A joke. I think that was your first.”
Was it?
Damn.
I am coming back to life.
“You looked really scary when you came in here.” She purrs it like it turned her on.
I shove the pistol in the back of my waistband and loop an arm around her. “I wondered.”
“What?”
“What made you kiss me that first time? You like the tough guy?”
“I like you ,” she confesses, her hands sliding up my pecs. “I always did.”
“Yeah?” That surprises me. I remember her from before, but she was young. And off-limits. Plus, I was engaged. I thought she was cute but didn’t pay much more attention. Now I marvel at how much I missed. I wanna go back in time and review all my visits to the shop to put her in full focus.
“And, yes, I like that you’re dangerous. It’s a total turn-on.”
“You’re something, Flowers.” I stroke her cheek with my thumb.
She backs up. “So can you be dangerous to my mice?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, sure. You got traps?”
“Um, yes. I bought some, but I couldn’t bring myself to use them because I can’t face cleaning up dead mice. Same reason I haven’t used poison.”
My lips twitch. Holy shit. I may actually smile. Didn’t know my mouth remembered how. “So you’re just putting up with the mice instead.”
She nods. “Exactly.”
“I’ll take care of it for you, doll. I’m your guy. You won’t have to worry about them again.”
And as I go back to cleaning out the cooler, I notice it again: that lightness around me suddenly.
Like there’s a reason to go on living.
I dare say I’m starting to feel normal again. If that’s even possible.
“Hey, Flowers!” I call out from the cooler, feeling it’s time to face something else I’ve been avoiding since getting out of prison. I thought it would be a long time until I’d be in the mood again for it, but I’m suddenly feeling now’s as good a time as any.
She opens up the cooler and leans against the frame. “You rang?” Her smile is so damn big on her face. I could stare at it all day.
“It’s Sunday.”
She nods. “We’ve established that already.”
“Take the day off.”
“I can’t. I told you?—”
I reach into my wallet, pull out a hundred-dollar bill, and place it into her hand. “Take this as paid time off and come with me to church.”
I need to expunge my sins. To make myself clean to be worthy of this treasure of a woman. I don’t know if that shit is real, but my ma believes in it. She lights a candle for me every time she goes to mass–twice a week.
It may not be real, but it seems like a nod in that direction is warranted. For Hannah.
Her eyes widen. “Church?”
“It’s Sunday. Church.”
“Now?”
I nod. “Mass is already over, but the doors will be open.”
She looks down at her clothing. “I need to go home and change.”
I take her by the hand and lead her away from the cooler. “Trust me. After the secrets and confessions this church has heard, the last thing we’ll be judged over is our clothing. Besides,” I press my lips to her forehead, “you’re beautiful.”
“I didn’t figure you for a church man.”
“I used to be,” I confess. “It’s been a long time. But it’s long overdue. Plus, I promised Father Fantoni I’d come by, and I haven’t yet. I may be a sinner, but I’m a man of my word.”
She gives me a soft smile. “Okay, let me go make sure we’re locked in the front.” She hurries to the front door and freezes with a gasp. I instantly reach for my gun but then realize it’s probably just another mouse.
“Armando,” she whispers, fear lacing her voice.
Pulling my gun, I rush towards her.
She points through a crack of the blinds and the door. “There’s a man outside.”
I release the safety, ready to defend the woman I— I see Marco on the other side.
Releasing the breath I’d been holding, putting away the gun, opening the door, and punching my cousin playfully in the arm, I say, “I could have shot you right there, man.”
“Leo and I told you we’d have extra eyes stationed.” Marco scans Hannah from head to toe, and I see approval in the devilish smile he offers.
“Why you? Not one of your men?”
Marco shrugs. “It’s Sunday. Most of the men are with their families today. I have nothing better to do. Besides, if you want something done right, do it yourself.”
Hannah clears her throat behind me, reminding me of my manners. “Marco, this is Hannah. Hannah, this is my cousin Marco.”
She extends her hand, and with the sweetest voice says, “Nice to meet you, officially. I remember your face from you shopping on occasion in the store.”
“You’re the owner now, right?” Marco asks.
“Yes.”
“We were just leaving. Going to St. Andrews. Care to come?” I ask him.
Marco chuckles. “If I step foot in that church, I’ll be struck down. It’s been so long since I’ve confessed that I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“Perfect,” I say. “Then we can be struck down together.”
Marco’s eyes dart back to Hannah then to me. “Church, huh?”
“It’s Sunday,” I state.
“Yeah, I know what day it is.” Marco smiles. “Well then, church it is.” He directs his next comment to Hannah. “But I’m warning you, Hannah. Don’t stand too close to us. It may not be a pretty sight if we burst into flames.”