Page 47 of Square Deal

I snagged a bottle of Blanton’s single barrel bourbon and gave myself a generous pour. Drink in hand, I sat down on the couch and closed my eyes. “Long day.”

“Did you keep your rich people happy?” she teased.

I chuckled and took a sip, enjoying the warmth sliding down my throat. “The rich stay rich, and I stay gainfully employed. How goes the world of happy brides and obnoxious amounts of flowers?”

Hannah giggled and I heard the chime of her microwave. “Be honest, you have no idea what I do.”

“Not really.” I chuckled. “But I’m pretty sure that goes both ways.”

“You’d be correct.”

There was a long, awkward silence, but I didn’t try to fill it. I sipped on my bourbon and pictured her getting home from work. Peeling her shoes off and putting her hair up. Grabbing leftovers out of the fridge and binge-watching something on TV. Knowing Hannah, it’d beThe Office.

That’s what normal people did after work, right? They didn’t have to change in the back of a car to look fresh for a night at a club or leave the office and get on a plane for an international flight.

Although, Lake Como was lovely this time of year…

“So…” she said quietly.

I sank down into the couch and closed my eyes. “What are you having for dinner?”

“Quinoa, chicken, and kale. It’s got some cherry tomatoes and balsamic. You?”

“Not rabbit food, that’s for sure,” I laughed.

Hannah giggled, “Let me guess—you’re a steak and potatoes guy?”

“Hell yes, ma’am.” I could practically see her rolling her eyes and pretending like it annoyed her when I called her that.

She snorted, and it was so fuckingcute. “Sorry,” she snickered. “What are you having?”

I grunted something unintelligible as I drained the last drops of liquor from my glass. “My assistant’s picking something up, but I can assure you—it won’t taste as good as your pussy.”

“God, Lawson!” she shrieked in good humor. “Six minutes. You literally lasted six minutes without talking about sex.”

“Well, call the Guinness World Record-keepers. I think I should get a plaque or something.”

“Ass,” she clipped.

“You know, I was thinking about you all day today,” I said honestly, desperately hoping that she would pick up on the contrition in my voice.

“That so?” She was unamused. That, or she didn’t believe me. I didn’t know which was worse. “What were you thinking about?”

And there was my opening. “How much I want to see you again.”

“Isaac,” she sighed. “I don’t want to be your booty call.”

“It wouldn’t be a booty call,” I said quickly. Hannah Jane Hayes was the most hard-headed, impossible woman I had ever met. “I know you think I’m a manwhore. Look, Han?—”

“Spell it out for me,” she blurted out, sounding like a nervous mess. That wasn’t like her at all. She was tenacious and tough as nails. I wanted her feisty. I wanted her kicking ass and taking names, not cowering away.

“What?”

“Expectations. Schedules. Boundaries.”

“Can I see you? You know, like video chat for a sec?”

There was a long pause before my phone buzzed with the video chat request. I smashed my finger into the screen, desperate to get a glimpse of her.

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