17. Hannah
17
HANNAH
T here was live music playing when we entered the bar, a country tune that we had heard on the radio five times at least. I sang the words under my breath, and then I caught Zack doing the same thing.
We both laughed and then he said, “Booth or bar?”
I looked around. Half the room was tables and booths. The other half was open space for dancing. Stretching between the two was the bar, encircled by red-cushioned bar stools.
“Booth,” I said.
No one would notice me or my crop top there. I wouldn’t get to people watch, though. If I had been in my regular clothes, I would have chosen the bar. Someone might have looked at me funny, or asked if I was Amish, but I never cared about that.
So why did I care now?
They were still living rent-free inside my head. Their rules, their beliefs, their morals. I didn’t agree with any of it, but here I was, letting them dictate my choices all these years later.
“Bar,” I said.
We claimed two stools next to each other. A man on my left gave me a friendly smile and I returned it politely before turning away.
“Two tequila shots,” Zack told the bartender, then bumped his shoulder against mine. “For courage.”
“I’ve never done a shot,” I admitted as the bartender placed the clear liquid in front of me. Not for any particular reason. It just never came up. I studied too much to party in college, and when I went to bars or dinners with friends, no one ever did shots.
“The idea is to get it down in one swallow, but if you can’t manage it, just drink it like you would anything else.” He tossed his back to demonstrate. It looked smooth and easy and…sexual in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on. But then, everything Zack did looked sexual. The man was made for sin.
“All right.” I eyed the shot glass. It really wasn’t all that much. “I can do that.”
I brought it to my lips, paused, then tilted my head back and opened my mouth. It took two swallows, and lord, did it burn, but when I slammed my glass down on the bar, I looked up to see Zack grinning at me.
“How’d that feel?” he asked.
I considered. “Warm,” I said.
He laughed. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, frowned at the screen, and looked at me. “It’s my dad. Are you okay here for a minute if I take it outside? I’ll keep it short.”
“I’m okay,” I assured him.
He squeezed my shoulder and disappeared into the throng.
“You and your boyfriend from out of town?” the man next to me asked.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said automatically, like that was the important part, and dodged the question of where we were from.
I loved eavesdropping on conversations and imagining the lives of strangers but actually talking to people I didn’t know made me nervous. Another residual gift from my childhood. It had been drilled into us that strangers were very bad things. Living with Jeremiah hadn’t dispelled me of that notion.
But Zack would be back any second. How much trouble could I really get into simply by being nice?
“It’s my first time in Montana,” I offered. “You have a beautiful state.”
He grinned. “Thank you kindly.” He told me his name and I promptly forgot it. “I see you tapping your foot there. How about a dance?”
I looked to where people were laughing and stomping in rows. How was it they all knew the moves? Did they learn through osmosis or something? “I don’t know this one.”
“That doesn’t matter. It’s easy. You’ll catch on quick.” He signaled the bartender. “Two shots of tequila.” The bartender poured the shots, and he lifted his to his lips. “I don’t know if this will help you learn the steps, but it will make it more fun.”
The tequila burned less this time.
He helped me off my barstool and plopped his cowboy hat on my head. “Let’s go make a cowgirl out of you, sugar.”
“Oh, I don’t fucking think so,” Zack said pleasantly, coming up behind me.
“He means a dance,” I explained, smiling up at him. He looked back down at me and his lips quirked. My stomach felt warm. “I’m not actually going to ride a horse.”
The man smirked. “Not a horse, no.”
“Again,” Zack said, “I don’t fucking think so.” He took the hat from my head and handed it over. “I’ll thank you to keep your hat to yourself. And anything else you plan on leaving here with.”
The man held up his hands. “Hey, man, she said you weren’t together. I wasn’t trying to make a move on your girl.”
Zack tugged on my braid to get my attention. “You didn’t tell him we’re together?”
“Semantics.” I looked up at him, feeling fuzzy. Was he mad? No, his eyes were doing that crinkly thing at me. “It’s a different kind of together. I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“Is that so?” Zack’s delicious mouth hooked up. “Then let me clarify things for you.”
He grabbed my wrist and moved toward my midsection in a way that had me instinctively blocking him. My eyes widened as I realized what he meant to do. “You wouldn’t,” I sputtered.
I backed up a step and he followed. “Duchess, you’re about to find out that when it comes to you, there’s not much I wouldn’t do.”
And with that he dropped his shoulder to my belly and hauled me off my feet in a fireman’s hold. I squealed and smacked his back as he strode out of the bar with me.
“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” I demanded when he set me back on my feet on the sidewalk.
“Making a point.” He gripped my chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t share, Hannah. Do you understand?”
My eyes darted back and forth as I searched his face, then I pulled free of his grip with a little shake of my head. “No, I do not understand, actually. You share all the time.”
“The hell I do.” He paused and his brow furrowed. “Wait, do you mean threesomes? I’ve done that, yeah.”
Of course he had. I huffed and rolled my eyes. “No, I do not mean threesomes. I mean, you sleep with lots of women, and I think it’s safe to assume they are not only sleeping with you, too. It’s just sex, like what we’re doing.”
He laughed. “There’s no comparison, duchess. Those other women? It was a one-time thing. Sometimes twice, but only by accident. They were past tense the second we put our clothes back on. So, no, it wasn’t sharing when we both moved on to someone else the next night. It’s different with us. You and I are still happening, and whether our clothes are on or off has nothing to do with it.”
What was he saying? That this relationship wasn’t only sex?
“Zack…” I trailed off and my mouth opened and shut a few times without saying anything. I blinked rapidly. “Are you saying you are my boyfriend?”
Uncertainty flickered across his expression, mirroring my own. Did I even want him to be my boyfriend? Wouldn’t that ruin everything ?
He leaned in. “You can call it whatever you want as long as you understand that I’m the only one in your bed.” He took my hand. “Now, let’s go, duchess. It’s time for your first lesson.”