Page 23 of Hannah and the Hitman

HANNAH

I had no idea why Jack hadn’t bolted for the door yet. Not only was my family being their finest, obnoxious selves, but the burgers were so well done they were practically hockey pucks.

We were in the dining room and settled around a checkered cloth covered table. On it were hamburgers, corn, baked beans, pickles, and chips. On my left was Jack. Across from me was Briana. Beside her, Perry. Flanking the ends of the table were my parents.

In the ten minutes I’d been nudging the food around on my plate, we’d been subjected to Briana’s and Perry’s endless chatter. Jack’s attention shifted from sibling to sibling but was more focused on the mounted cow head that hung on the wall over the side table. It was Curtis the Cow. Curtis had been put up when I was a kid and Perryhad named it. He’d named the other animals, too, but I didn’t remember any others.

“...three years ago, I transitioned to the trampoline when my coach felt that I couldn’t make the Olympic squad for gymnastics. Beam was where I excelled. I have excellent balance. And flexibility.”

After giving Jack another wink, Briana grabbed her hamburger and took a healthy bite.

“...then I reminded my congregation that gluttony was a sin,” Perry spouted while Briana’s mouth was full. He reached for the baked beans and scooped a pile onto his plate beside his second burger, two eaten cobs of corn and three pickles. “We must all be cautious in our indulgences.”

“At first, I was doing pike jumps but now I’m doing full-in full-out, double back somersault with full twist in the first somersault and another full twist in the second somersault which I think will get me to the next Olympic trials. I could show you after dinner if you like.” Briana took a swig from her can of soda. Her high ponytail bounced to a beat she only heard through an ear pod she had tucked into her left ear. She spoke so fast her backup career could be an auctioneer.

“The second week of the volunteer weed removal program has been a success,” Perry shared. “We’ve pulled in those in need from the homeless shelter to assist and offer water and snacks after the three-hour highway cleanup.” He shoveled in a huge bite of beans.

While they took us on two very different ego trips, Jack sat quiet. He somehow ate a burger–with many sips of accompanying iced tea to get it down–and a bunch of chips.His plate was clean. All the while, Dad had made it through his second pour from his pitcher, only sloshing a little over the side. Mom kept eyeing Jack with suspicion.

“All I asked was for the potato salad,” Mom muttered when Briana and Perry took bites of their burgers at the same time.

This again?

“You told me about the dinner less than three hours ago. When I was at work,” I replied.

“You could have picked up some at the store like I asked.”

I could’ve, but having Jack show up at work had fried my brain. The good news? Jack wasn’t a stalker. Not a chance in hell.

No stalker would subject themselves to this dinner. They’d have given up and moved onto someone else.

No, he was here for a different reason, and it wasn’t to hack me into bits with an ax.

Had he been serious, thinking I was sexy and fun and that he had thoughts about railing me over the back of a couch? I really, really wanted that. It had to be true, because again, this nightmare.

“I hate when we serve chips for dinner,” Mom continued bitterly. “This memory problem isn’t still lingering from your surgery, is it?”

I could feel my cheeks practically catch fire as Jack’s head whipped my way and his eyes burned into the side of my face. The last thing I wanted to do was to have Jack think even less of me. Bookworm. Overweight. Librarian. Crazy family. Defective brain.

I bit my lip, knowing an outburst would do nothing but have Dad drink more, Mom dig her heels into her potato salad snit, and have my brother think I was slothful–one of the deadly sins along with lustful.

“No issues,” I said, flicking my gaze at Jack for a second and offering him a fake smile that quickly slipped away.

“Listen to your mother next time, Hannah,” Dad added, waving his drink hand in the air, sloshing some liquid onto the table.

I was so frustrated and embarrassed. Angry, too. Brittany had come a few times for dinner, but had bailed on the concept, telling me she’d rather have a pap smear.

“It was my fault,” Jack admitted. His hand settled on my thigh, but static electricity had him yanking his palm away for a second. His eyes widened in surprise, then gave my leg a gentle squeeze. “The missing potato salad.”

He winked, one that was far sexier than the ones Briana was giving him across the table. I felt his touch, but I also felt the reassurance that came with it.

Why was he throwing himself under the bus for me? Why did I find that so incredibly hot?

Everyone was quiet–miracle of miracles–waiting for him to say more, although Perry reached for another ear of corn.

“I turned her head,” Jack admitted. He removed his hand from my leg and set it along the back of my chair. It was a more visible sign of solidarity. The hair on the back of my neck rose in response. What was it about my body reacting to him? “Obviously.”

Or ego. God, he was worse than all of them.