Page 116 of Existential
FORTY-SIX
Dagne
Eight months later
“Well, look at you.” I can’t help the smile that takes over my face as Hooch steps out of the barber.
He’s still the man I know, the one I fell for before I even wanted to admit how I felt. Just with a shorter beard.
He looks hot. Tidy, and hot.
“Not looking too bad yourself.”
He blatantly checks out the new dress I bought while I was waiting for him. It’s a simple strappy boho style, but it makes me seem almost a foot taller with its floor-sweeping length. Of course I had to put it on straight away, my old clothes bundled in my bag.
“You like, then?”
“Love it.”
I link my hand in his and we start down the sidewalk toward the new store the Aces opened last week: a saddlery of all things. I laughed, but then Hooch showed me some beautiful braided reins he’d been working on and I caved.
He’s so talented, and I never knew. More so, he never wanted anyone to know until now.
He’s come out of his shell since the drama with Digits has been resolved. I can’t even fathom how that feels, to be betrayed by somebody who you trust so intimately. These men place their lives in their brothers’ hands, and to know that there was one who would have gladly traded it for his own gain? Yeah, it makes me worried about him every time Hooch goes out on “business.”
Adjusting to his life still has its ups and downs, but the support I have from the club is second to none. I’ve got Beth to help me understand the rules and customs, and I have Murphy’s sensible advice to guide me when past demons start to poke and prod again.
What Digits did … I won’t lie, it haunts me. And it’s definitely put a wedge between Hooch and I when it comes to intimacy, given I still flinch without even realizing I am.
But he’s patient. He’s so much more, in fact. He’s kind, understanding, and never lays the blame on me—for any of it. A luxury I’ve never been afforded in the past.
I keep waiting for his faults to surface, for the disappointment to set in … but I even love his bad habits for their quirkiness.
“We’ll only be a minute,” Hooch says, tugging my hand as we walk into the shop.
He said something about having to sort a stock order, but I really don’t get why the staff they’ve hired can’t do that. Surely they’d know what’s needed to run the place?
Hooch pulls me close and runs his hand down the small of my back as he places a gentle kiss on the top of my head. “Wait here.”
I take a seat on the bar stool tucked to the left of the counter as he disappears out the back, and spin in a lazy circle while I take in the displays. They’ve done a great job at keeping it feeling rural, while still having that clean simplicity of a city store. It feels as though you’re popping over to a friend’s barn more than walking into a place that’s trying to convince you to upgrade what you’ve already got.
Hooch returns a few minutes later, an envelope clutched in his hand. He spins me to face him, slotting himself between my legs as I hastily push the skirt of my dress down into the gap in case a customer walks in.
He chuckles, fiddling with its length. “I think they’d need to be lyin’ on the floor between my feet to see anything.”
Heat peppers my cheeks as his face falls serious. My heart slows, anticipating the worst.
“What is it?”
“I’ve got something I want to share with you, but first”—he holds up a single finger—“you have to promise not to get angry.”
Oh, hell. “What have you done?”
“Nothin’ bad.” He frowns. “I think.”
I reach out for his hand and he offers it willingly, stroking his thumb over the back in a calming gesture. “Spill.”
He passes the envelope over, and I let go of his hand to take it. My fingers shake as I press the sides apart, sliding the slip of paper inside out and unfolding it.