Page 105 of Hannah and the Hitman

I hoped Brittany and Dax had gone off for that dinner they’d talked about, otherwise they’d have heard the door banging from the… banging.

Hannah had gone into the bedroom to change, and I stood in the doorway to watch. Her closet was tiny, and not a walk-in. Her entire apartment was three rooms: living room/dining room/kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. It was a newer building, well kept. Her space was bright and matched her feminine, soft demeanor. And the books. There were books everywhere. One whole wall of her living room was wall to wall shelves. There was a stack by her bed, on the bedside table. On top of the dresser.

This space couldn’t belong to anyone else.

She pushed her head through a green t-shirt and pulled it down over her torso. “Why?”

“I’m not saying I’m a snob and need a big, fancy space, but Pancake is.”

She bit her lip. “Oh really? What kind of place doesPancakelike?”

“A house with a picket fence.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. He’s always wanted one.”

Her eyes softened.

“And this space… is it for three?” she asked. “Or two?”

“I’m not giving up Pancake even if he is a snooty bastard.”

I went to her, set my hands on her hips. I couldn’tnottouch her, even though I had her only minutes earlier. “TheweI mentioned, it’s you and me, gorgeous. Say yes.”

“To living with you?”

I shook my head. “To alifewith me.”

My words had the wrong effect. She burst into tears.

“Oh shit. Okay, we don’t have to live together.”

She set her forehead against my chest, then shook it. “It’s not that. You got me the bookstore. We only met two weeks ago.”

I stroked her hair and forced her chin up so I could look in her watery eyes.

“As you can guess from my fancy suits, my fancy penthouse, my fancy SUV, and my extra fancy cat, I have a shit ton of money. It should be used for something good. And you’re good, Hannah Highcliff… someday Hollister.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you asking me tomarryyou?”

I shook my head. “You’ll know when I’m asking, gorgeous. I guess what I’m doing, in a very bad way since I’ve never done it before, is to tell you I love you. Two weeks? I knew in two minutes.”

She started to cry again.

“Crying like that’s not good for a man’s ego,” I added, but I waited it out.

“You sound like a romance hero,” she said on a sob.

I huffed. “I’ll be any trope you want as long as I’m yours.”

“Oh my God, stop!” she wailed, then wiped her nose on my shirt. “But I don’t have money saved yet for the initial book orders and the renovation costs and–”

“What part ofI have moneyis confusing?” It was simple. She wanted the bookstore I’d give her the bookstore.

“I can’t take your money!”

“Yes, you can.”