Page 10 of Hannah and the Hitman
“Yeah, huh. I forgot, but I even hefted my carry-on into the overhead on the plane by myself. I’m not sure what’s up.”
That made me think of the hot guy who saved me from those two smelly, crowding jerks. Actually, I hadn’tstoppedthinking about him.
“You’re strong as fuck in your own way, Wonder Woman. You’re not having any more headaches, are you?” she asked, concern in her dark eyes.
I shook my head. She’d been by my side through my radiation back in May and recovery. “No. I mean, I did in Vegas because the event was crowded and the casino I had to cut through to get to my room was loud.”
She seemed relieved as one of the side effects for me was headaches.
“I don’t know how anyone works in a place like that. Rowdy, drunk gamblers.”
“You put your fingers in peoples’ dirty mouths after you give them laughing gas,” I countered. “What’s the difference? And those drills, don’t tell me those aren’t slowly making you deaf.”
She only rolled her eyes again and changed the subject. “Tell me about your trip. Please say you gambled or went to that sexy male stripper revue or hooked up with a hottie or something.”
I gave her a look right back. “I was at a romance convention where it’s like ninety-five percent women. Besides, this is me, boring Hannah Highcliff.”
She tipped her glass toward me, then took a healthy swallow. “They have models there. I’ve seen the photos. And you’re not boring.”
I wasn’t going to argue with her on the boring part because it was a known fact I’d rather have my nose stuck in a book than do most other things.
“What gorgeous male model is going to be interested in me?” I asked, setting another book on my shelf, my back to her.
“A smart one,” she replied fiercely, making me look her way. “I’ve lived across the hall from you for two years. I see the way men look at you.”
I laughed because I was nothing special. Forgettable. “Please, if we’re standing side by side, they’re looking at you. And my track record with guys is total crap.”
With a sigh, she set her glass on the coffee table. “We’ve got to work on this self-image of yours. And don’t even mention Kevin. You’re a total catch and he’s a dipshit. He should’ve been run over with a snowplow for how he dumped you.”
What she meant was I told him I had a brain tumor and he told me he was done.
“And cheated on me,” I reminded. Obviously, I wasn’t a woman who kept a man’s attention or interest. Per Kevin, I was defective sexually. And physically. Totally not a catch.
She growled. “Don’t remind me. I want to go pull all his teeth. He showed his true colors. Not worth your time or energy. You’ve got a new lease on life, and it should be with someone amazing.”
“I’ll take amazing.” That sounded good, but not very realistic. I grew up in this small town. Knew all the guys. The pickings were slim. And Kevin lived here and probably told his friends about me, although I didn’t want to date any of his friends.
I was twenty-six. A weak, slightly overweight librarian with medical debts who was supposedly bad in bed. Not much of a catch.
She grabbed the bag of chips and set it on her lap, ripping the top open. “Fine, so Vegas. No jackpot, no male model, only books?”
She was more invested in my social life than I was.
“It was so great,” I said. I couldn’t help but smile because I’d been in my happy place surrounded by books and others in the industry. “So many authors whose books I want to put in my store.”
My dream was to open a romance bookstore in this little shop space on Main Street here in Coal Springs. I had the space picked out, the business plan written and money to get started. It had almost come about. If I put my pointer finger and my thumb close together, I was right there. Then my radiation bumped my plans out months… or years because of medical bills.
Brittany reached out, took my hand and gave it a squeeze and a sympathetic smile. “It’s happening and it’s going to be amazing.”
I swallowed hard because I tried to compartmentalize the disappointment I felt about my dream being stalled, but it was hard. The only reason I’d been able to go to the book signing in Vegas was because I’d paid for it all–registration, hotel, and airfare–before radiation. It wasn’t just the tangible problems, like bills. It was mental gymnastics, too. To be told by a doctor that I had a brain tumor had been devastating, even when she said it was completely treatable with a special kind of radiation procedure. It had been a “do or die” situation and I hadn’t wanted to die.
They zapped that tumor with radiation. Theygot it.I was still slowly coming to terms with the possibilities of death, that it could’ve happened to me this year instead of at ninety. Of surviving. Of being lucky, when I felt anything but.
“There was this guy on the plane,” I admitted. I didn’t have a Pollyanna-like well of hope and rays of sunshine like Brittany when it came to a happily ever after–and I was the book lover–because I was too realistic about things these days. Yet, it was fun seeing Brittany that way.
Her eyes widened and she set her glass down, practically clapping her hands in glee. She was so much more invested in my love life than I was. “Tell!”
I shrugged, remembering how out of place he seemed. “Tall, dark, and handsome. Had that square jaw and scruff thing going. Dark eyes. Hair that you wanted to run your fingers through. Suit, definitely not off the rack.” No way that material or cut was from a chain store at the mall. “He was like a billionaire who got lost and ended up in Economy beside me. Not the kind of billionaire who gets manicures and has four assistants, but the one who secretly wrestles bears and BASE jumps.”