‘Me too, but I don’t think the rest of the town did.’
I giggle as I carefully follow Molly to the edge of the stage, my gaze naturally following the line of the bar to the end. Ryan’s there, but unlike everyone else in the pub, he’s still seated and he’s not smiling. But he is looking at me, and I sense annoyance. Or is it disapproval?
He doesn’t like that I’ve made a show of myself. Well, I guess that’s probably best. Screw him. This is who I am.
‘That was epic!’ Molly falls to her seat and wipes her brow, and I join her, slightly out of breath.
‘I don’t know about epic.’ I reach up to clench my head. I need to go before I pass the point of tipsiness and fall into the realms of full-on drunkenness. Pushing my hands into the table, I get myself up. ‘All that singing has gone to my head.’ Along with the alcohol, and it’s mixing with my emotions.
Ryan looked at me in disapproval. No one has that right. I’m a second away from marching over there and telling him where to stick his disapproval.
‘I’m going to stay and have one more with Mrs Hatt,’ Molly says. ‘We’ll wobble home together.’
‘Don’t walk on your own.’
‘I won’t,’ Molly singsongs, linking my arm with hers. ‘I’ll walk you across the road.’
‘You can literally see my front door from the window. Just watch me.’ I unlink us and point, and Molly takes up position on an agreeable nod. I make my way through the pub saying my goodbyes and eventually make it outside into the fresh air. There’s a chill, and I fold my arms tightly across my chest as I hurry across the road.
I slip my key into the lock, then pause before turning it, looking over my shoulder to the window of the pub. I see Molly there, watching me, and she waves before disappearing from view.
‘Hannah?’
I startle on a fast inhale but quickly see Ryan by his truck across the street. ‘Jesus, Ryan, you scared me.’
‘I never want you to be scared of me.’
I straighten my lips as he hovers by the driver’s door, pulling his keys from his jean pocket. ‘I’m not,’ I retort softly, turning back to my door and turning the key. ‘Good night.’
‘Good night, Hannah,’ he says quietly, and a few seconds later I hear his truck door open and close. I push my way into my shop, looking across the road.
But Ryan’s not in his truck. He’s pacing toward me with purpose, and the streetlights illuminate his face, his expression as determined as his stride. I hold my breath, waiting . . . for what?
I step back as he gets closer, my focus glued to him. His pace doesn’t falter, and he enters the shop, leaving the door open behind him. He grabs me with a gentle but possessive force, one hand on my nape, the other on my hip. And he looks me straight in the eye, breathes deeply.
Then he drops his mouth to mine and gives me the tenderest of kisses. No tongue. No moans. No movement anywhere, except for his lips gently travelling across mine. My useless hands remain by my sides. I forget my name, who I am. The world as I know it ceases to exist, and it is so welcomed. So . . . unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s the smallest of gestures, yet it’s also colossal. Does Ryan know that? Does he realize what he’s doing? He’s making no attempt to deepen the kiss; his hands aren’t moving or exploring. He’s just dotting my lips with his, over and over, lazily and softly. It’s dizzying. And despite his apparent lack of desire to push it to the next level, there is passion pouring from him, the air surrounding us electric.
My mind blanks and I remain still in his hold, my eyes closed, my senses hijacked, as I savour the light pressure moving across my mouth. I can only ever remember my heart racing with fear and apprehension, yet since I’ve met Ryan it’s pounded with life and anticipation. Every near kiss we’ve had. Every moment of silence when we’re looking into each other’s eyes and the sexual tension between us ramps up another level.
Every time we’re in physical contact.
Every reason to avoid him is suddenly negated by my hunger for him. And then he breaks our kiss, breathing shallowly, as he keeps me in his hold. I stare at him, lost for words, and he drops one final, lingering peck on the corner of my mouth before he moves back. I quickly feel so very lost. His fingertip draws a delicate line down the bridge of my nose, slowing when he passes over the small bump. Then he turns on an inhale and leaves, pulling the door closed behind him.