Chapter Twenty
Bethany eyed Daphne Miller who sat next to Hank on Rosie’s worn brown couch. When she’d imagined what could go wrong, she hadn’t imagined Daphne as part of the equation.
“I hope you don’t mind me tagging along with Hank,” Daphne said, presenting Bethany and Travis with a smile as fake as her boob job. Bright pink hoops dangled from her ears. She proceeded to squeeze Hank’s arm as if it were her personal possession.
“Not at all.” Bethany scratched the back of her leg with her free hand—the other held her cupcakes in a plastic container. The woman gave Bethany a serious case of hives. She forced her lips into what she hoped was an upward tilt and tried not to look like she cared. “Rosie in the kitchen?”
Daphne shrugged. “I think she’s helping the little angels with their PJs. Hi, Travis. Aren’t you the handsome one? Ooh, is that your winning recipe?” Daphne moved her palm to Hank’s leg and smirked. “Hank mentioned you were entering a contest.”
“He did, did he?” Bethany’s gaze traveled from Daphne’s hand to Hank’s face. He removed Daphne’s hand, stretched his long legs in front of him, and offered her a sleepy smile.
“That was mighty sharing of him,” Bethany said. “Travis, why don’t you grab a seat. I’m going to put these cupcakes on a plate.”
“Hi, Miss Bethany. Hi, Mr. Travis. We’ve got popcorn,” Tia said, racing into the family room in pink princess pajamas. Tana and Rosie were not far behind her.
Bethany held up the plastic container. “And we brought dessert.”
“Yay!” Tia and Tana cheered. “Can we have one?”
“Sure, if it’s okay with your mother.”
“Girls, tee up the movie and sit next to Travis,” Rosie said. “Bethany and I will get some plates and napkins.” She motioned for Bethany to follow her into the kitchen.
The minute they were behind closed doors, Rosie turned to her and lowered her voice. “What’s Hank doing with Daphne Miller?”
Bethany frowned. “That’s what I was going to ask you. You didn’t invite her?”
“Are you loco?” Rosie’s brown eyes flared with annoyance.
“Of course, I didn’t invite her. Why would I do a horrible thing like that?
Hank just asked if a friend could come with him.
I didn’t think to ask who it was. She did bring a fancy pistachio dessert, though.
” She pointed to a cake with a light green cream filling, then rummaged around in the cupboard, bringing out a white plate, which she handed to Bethany.
“So Hank invited her.”
“I’m seriously disappointed in his taste.”
Bethany popped the cupcake holder open and began adding the cupcakes to the plate. “First impressions can be deceiving. Still feeling sorry for him?”
“Actually, yes. He has to be desperately lonely to invite that man-eater along.”
“Or he craves attention from women. According to Elizabeth, he breaks hearts wherever he goes.”
“I can believe it. But maybe he felt sorry for her. Daphne can be persuasive, as you well know. What should we do about it?” Rosie picked up a tray with a pitcher of water, cups, and a big bowl of popcorn. “This was supposed to be a cozy family night.”
Bethany grabbed the plate of cupcakes and the pistachio cake. “What can we do? It’s not like we can kick her out. Let’s make the best of it. But I hope you won’t be offended if Travis and I leave as soon as the movie is over.”
Hank kept his eyes on the television screen, but his thoughts were far from Beauty and the Beast. They kept returning to the woman who sat on the opposite side of the room, the girls cuddled on either side of her.
Travis lay on the recliner next to them, his head tipped back, snoring.
It wasn’t surprising he had fallen asleep—the kid worked harder than anyone Hank knew, including himself.
He shifted on what had to be the pokiest couch he’d ever had the misfortune to sit on, and dodged Daphne’s groping hands for at least the twentieth time.
He’d worked himself into quite a stew this morning after Bethany had made it clear just how little she thought of him.
Then he’d spent the afternoon tinkering with machinery and pounding nails.
He had about convinced himself that she wasn’t worth his attention, when the girls had invited him to their princess party.
Daphne had begged him to let her tag along, and he’d felt sorry for her.
And he figured it wouldn’t hurt for Bethany to see that other women found him attractive.
Hank slanted a glance at Bethany. She and the girls made a pretty picture with their dark heads pressed together, their eyes glued to the television, and their lips parted.
On screen, the narrator announced the curse: The Beast must learn to love another and earn Belle’s love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken.
But who could ever learn to love a beast?
Why did Hank feel like the hourglass had been turned? That he needed to find a way to convince Bethany he was worthy of her attention, or he would be lost forever like the darn beast.
She raised her head and her eyes caught his—dreamy, puzzled, soft.
Something moved inside him—almost a physical pain—and he couldn’t look away.
A hunger burned. But it was not sexual .
. . not really. No, he hungered for her warmth and kindness.
He longed for her to look at him the way she seemed to look at every other stray who wandered into her inner circle.
He yearned for her to find him worthy. He was caught in her spell—a spell woven from loneliness and need and desire.
“I’ll get more water,” she said, scrunching her face in what Hank called her keep-your-distance frown and grabbing the pitcher.
The dreaminess in her eyes hardened into ice chips.
She turned and marched into the kitchen.
Daphne moved her roaming hands into his hair, bringing Hank back to reality with a sudden hard tug.
This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? For Bethany to see him as desirable.
But the victory felt shallow in the moment.
Hank removed himself from Daphne’s clutches, stood, and collected their dirty napkins and plates. “Don’t get up,” he told Daphne when she rose to follow him. “I’m just getting rid of the dishes. I’ll be right back.” He followed Bethany into the kitchen.
The minute he opened the door, she turned from filling the pitcher with water. When she spotted him, her eyes widened. “Did you need something?”
“Yes.” A douse of ice-cold water. What was he doing? His gaze caught hers and he moved forward on autopilot. He’d tried being her friend and that hadn’t worked.
Like a mouse who’s spied a cat, she froze.
“You’re spilling.” He motioned to the overflowing pitcher.
She cocked her head and then her eyes widened further, and she twisted in a hurry to shut the water off and empty the excess. When she turned back, he was there. In her space.
“What do you want?” She lifted her chin. Her breath was warm on his face. Chocolate and vanilla filled the space between them.
“I think we need to talk.”
Her eyes narrowed and dropped to his lips. “About what?”
“About this.”
He bent his head, giving her plenty of time to duck.
She didn’t.
Maybe the beast could be saved after all?
His lips met hers; brushed once, twice. His pulse throbbed. He didn’t rush the kiss, nor did he linger. He waited for her to give him a sign that she craved his touch as much as he did hers—that the attraction he felt for her wasn’t all one-sided.
She let out a sigh, and her small hands reached around his neck and pulled him closer. That was all the sign he needed.
How long did they stand in the kitchen, swaying back and forth like a jukebox was cranking out love songs? One minute? Ten? Bethany could almost hear the strains of a violin or a softly strumming guitar, almost feel the touch of a magic wand and fairy dust.
His lips pressed against her mouth—as firm and full and hot as she’d dreamed they would be.
His tongue swept the edges of her mouth and then plunged inside.
She breathed in what smelled like a forest of evergreens.
She wanted the kiss to go on and on forever.
To lose herself in the feel of his soft lips and perfect physique.
Bethany wrapped her hands around his broad shoulders and tucked herself into his hard chest like she’d imagined doing since they’d walked on the beach and he’d told her that he wanted to be friends. But he wanted to be more than friends, didn’t he? And God help her, so did she.
He groaned and framed her face with his large hands, deepening the kiss.
She heard herself mew like a kitten. Her hands tangled in his golden hair like she’d seen his female costar do on the television screen.
After seeing the on-screen kiss, she’d imagined what it would feel like to be his costar.
Now she knew. Her blood heated into a roaring inferno.
She kissed her landlord. She kissed a celebrity. She kissed Apollo.
The first strains of sanity floated in her brain.
What was she doing? Desmond was also a celebrity.
Hadn’t she been down this path before? This passion blossoming between her and Hank—it wasn’t real.
It was the thrill of the chase for Hank—the challenge of a moment; a victory claimed.
He would take what she offered and, like any summer fling, would end it when Hollywood beckoned.
Her life was here, in Cleveland, with Travis and her friends and Grandma Lou’s.
Not in some jet-setting lifestyle in Los Angeles with an actor who looked like a Greek god. And if Elizabeth found out . . .
She pushed against his chest until he raised his head from his assault on her lips. Bethany had no doubt her deal with Elizabeth would be over. She would never gain the votes she needed in the contest to save Grandma Lou’s. Besides, she’d made a bargain. “Hank, I can’t. I’m sorry.”
His eyes were dark with desire, and for a moment, they didn’t seem to register her words. He tilted his head. “You’re right. This isn’t the time or place. Later?”
She pulled herself from his arms. “No, Hank. I can’t do this with you.”
He didn’t move, but his forehead creased, and his eyes squinted at the corners. “Why?”
“Dios mío!” A scream erupted from the other room.
Rosie.
Bethany tore herself from his arms and dashed into the family room, Hank hard on her heels.
Her heart worked double-time in her chest. The scene that confronted her was as dramatic as any movie.
Rosie and Daphne were crouched over Tia, while Tana stood to the side sobbing, and Travis worked his cell phone.
“What is it? What’s happened?” Bethany reached the huddled group at the same time as Hank.
“I don’t know,” Rosie said, out of breath. “She’s having some sort of reaction. What should I do?”
Tia’s face and throat were swollen, and her skin was red and blotchy. She struggled to breathe.
“An ambulance is on the way,” Travis said, his cell phone pressed to his ear. “They say they’ll be here in less than five minutes. If you have an EpiPen, use it. Is she breathing? If she’s not, we need to perform chest compressions.”
Hank peered over Rosie’s shoulder. “She’s breathing, but it’s a struggle.”
“Hang on, nina,” Rosie said, squeezing Tia’s hand. “Hang on. An ambulance is coming.”
Hank leaned toward Rosie. “Do you have an EpiPen?”
Rosie shook her head, eyes wide. “No.”
Bethany gazed in horror as Tia gasped for air.
“Turn her on her back,” Hank told Bethany and Rosie. “Daphne, find a blanket.”
Daphne hesitated and then took off down the hall, her high heels clunking, while Bethany and Rosie turned Tia on her back, and Hank checked her pulse.
“She’s stopped breathing.” Hank’s voice remained steady, but Bethany could hear the urgency in his tone. “I’m going to do chest compressions. Travis, how much longer?”
Hank began pressing Tia’s chest and counting.
“Three minutes,” Travis said.
Three minutes seemed endless. How Hank managed to stay calm and know what to do, Bethany couldn’t fathom.
Daphne brought the blanket, and Bethany covered Tia’s lower half, while Hank worked on her chest, and Rosie spilled a steady stream of terrified words in Spanish.
The only comfort Bethany could provide was to Tana, who clung to her side.
“They’re here.” Travis rushed to the door.
Then the ambulance crew swarmed inside, taking over for Hank who wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Mi Tia, mi nina.”
Hank turned to Bethany. “I’ll go with Rosie and Tia in the ambulance so Tana can stay with you.”
Rosie raised grateful eyes to him. “Gracias, Hank.”
Bethany hugged Rosie. “Travis and I will take care of Tana. Go. We’ll follow you to the hospital in my car.”
Then Rosie and Hank were out the door, and Bethany rushed around like one of those robotic vacuum cleaners that bounce off walls, gathering a change of clothes for Rosie and Tia, their personal items, Tia’s favorite stuffed dog, and anything else that came to mind.