Page 28 of About That Night

“You probably shouldn’t call people assholes when you’re about to open a restaurant in town.” I’m worried that these people know people who know everyone, and then suddenly Hank is blackballed.

“I don’t give a shit,” Hank says. “I don’t want that prick eating my food anyway. If he wants to say stuff about the stupid crap I did when I was a teenager, fine. But he crossed the line with that last comment.”

He’s seething.

I’m melting inside. He can be a really sweet man. “Thank you for standing up for me,” I say. “I appreciate it.”

“Why didn’t you tell him to fuck off?” he asks, glancing at me over his shoulder.

“Because it doesn’t matter. You can’t change anyone’s opinion. I learned that a long time ago.”

“But you can teach them a lesson,” he says. “And it's called mind their own damn business.”

Only Nevaeh and Miss Loretta have ever really stood up for me before. It makes me feel things I have no right to feel for Hank. “What is my dating lesson out of all of this?”

He lets out an exasperated laugh. “Fly solo for the first few dates. Having other people around takes all the fun out of it when you’re just trying to get to know each other.”

He means hypothetically, of course. Yet I can’t help but be curious about the man Hank has become. I think maybe he shows only what he wants to show, but there’s a lot more going on under the surface than he’s given credit for. I don’t think he uses humor to deflect. I think he’s genuinely easygoing, but there’s more there as well.

We reach the shore, and he hops out and holds his hand out for me.

“So you flashed a bachelorette party?” I ask. “Did they throw beads at you?”

“No, they threw themselves at me,” he says with a grin.

It’s funny. I should laugh.

But now, I’m wondering if he had sex with one of them, and the fact that I’m thinking about it and feeling envious of whatever happened is just absurd. “I can’t say I blame them.” I try to sound light and friendly without being flirty.

It doesn’t sound light at all. It sounds husky and needy.

His eyes narrow, and he reaches out and wipes an errant drop of water off of my forehead.

“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” Hank says.

“Your place?” It just flies out of my mouth. I don’t mean it to be suggestive. I’m just asking because Josiah is at home, and I don’t really want Hank meeting him right now, without me prepping Josiah that Hank is just a friend. But of course, the words are a classic cheesy line. Come to think of it, so were his.

He laughs softly. “Don’t say it like that, Chastity.”

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I’m not trying to torture you. I just meant, well, can we go to your place? Nevaeh and Josiah are at my house right now, and that feels complicated.”

He nods. “Sure. You can borrow some clothes. Sorry about the dunk. I should have just said we were bailing on the tour.”

“It’s okay. It was quite a splash,” I say, shooting him a grin. “See what I did there?”

“Nice. Dads everywhere approve that pun.”

“I can’t remember the last time I was just…silly.”

“There’s more where that came from,” he says as he opens the truck door for me. “Did you hear those stories about me? I’m a total idiot.”

There’s something about the way Hank jokes about his choices that makes me feel like he and I aren’t so different after all. I pause before climbing into the truck. I study him. “Maybe you’re misunderstood.”

“I guarantee I’m misunderstood. And so are you.” He keeps his hand on the door handle and makes no move to walk away. “People want to see us in the simplest of terms. But humans are more complex creatures than that.” His gaze drops to my lips. “Complex creatures with simple needs.”

Before I can ask him what he means by that, he walks away, heading around the front of the truck. We both climb in.

I check my bag for my phone, needing reassurance it’s still there like I remember. “You’re lucky I didn’t take my phone with us, though. You might have seen a whole different side of me then.”

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