Page 77 of The Pink House

Then guilt rushed in, swamping her. She’d loved Brian as much as it was possible to love a person. So, how, after only a year, could she be having these kinds of feelings for someone else?

Pushing the troubling question aside, Hannah slipped out of bed. Getting more sleep wasn’t going to happen. Not the way her insides churned.

After making coffee and downing a cup, Hannah pulled on her running shorts and top. Streetlights cast their golden glow on the quiet neighborhood as she took off down the sidewalk.

Charlie’s house was dark. Not surprising, as the sun was only the faintest glimmer in the east. What was surprising was her being awake and running before dawn.

Hannah veered into the street when Hugh’s underground sprinklers kicked on, then jolted when a black cat streaked in front of her, likely on its way home after a night of prowling.

Focusing on the sounds around her helped her settle. Running shoes striking the pavement. Thetsk-tsk-tskof Hugh’s sprinklers. The soothing sounds of a dove perched high in a tree.

Hannah found her stride at mile two, and her thoughts returned to Charlie and the feel of his mouth against hers.

He brought the desire she’d thought had died with Brian surging back with a vengeance. But her need for her neighbor went far beyond the physical.

Charlie was a good man. She respected him as a person and enjoyed his company. When she was with him, there was none of the awkwardness she experienced around other men. For whatever reason, they just fit.

Was it too soon? Could she really be falling in love with her husband’s best friend?

Shoving aside questions that appeared to have no answer, Hannah made the loop that would take her back home. Though this morning she felt as if she could go for hours, she wasn’t in shape for a long run.

She slowed to a walk when she reached the neighborhood, and as she walked, streetlights winked off while lights in various homes flipped on.

Charlie’s home was one of the houses now sporting lights. She wondered as she walked by if it was him who was up, or Lisa. Or maybe they both were.

Once she returned home, she went to the kitchen, intending to do some experimental baking, but her heart wasn’t in it.

All she could think about was the dream and her feelings for Charlie.

* * *

On Thursday, Lisa looked up from her computer when Charlie dropped market bags on the counter. She’d moved into the kitchen by the time he came in with the rest of the bags.

“What is all this?” She chuckled and gestured to the cluttered counter. “Are we having a dinner party I don’t know about?”

Charlie paused, his hand on the fresh linguine noodles. “I thought I’d make dinner for Hannah tomorrow. She loves seafood, so I’m using your recipe, the one with pasta, lemon and herbs?”

“I know the one.”

Conscious of his mother’s steady gaze, Charlie continued to put away the groceries. He lifted the asparagus that he planned to bake, spritz with lemon, then top with melted Parmesan cheese shavings.

His lips curved as he thought how surprised Hannah would be by the feast he had planned for her. She had no idea he was more than a passable cook. They still had so much to learn about each other.

That’s what porch talks were for. Since the baseball game last weekend, he and Hannah had continued their nightly tradition of conversation and wine. But there had been no more kissing.

Charlie hadn’t pushed. This relationship—and that’s what it was, whether either of them wanted to admit it or not—was already moving at warp speed.

While he was determined to give her the time and space she needed, he hoped this dinner would show her just how much she mattered to him.

Lisa took a seat at the table. She cleared her throat. “You know I like Hannah.”

Unease coursed up his spine as Charlie faced his mom. Going for casual, he rested his back against the counter. “I like her, too.”

“Brian hasn’t been gone that long.” His mother’s brows pulled together, and Charlie could see her carefully considering her words. “I don’t know that it’s a good idea for you and Hannah to be spending so much time together.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” With great effort, Charlie kept his voice even. “You told me when she moved here that we have to be good neighbors and friends to her.”

“Planning elaborate dinners and convertible rides go beyond being good friends and neighbors.” Pushing to her feet, Lisa steadied herself, then crossed to him. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You like her as more than a friend, Charlie. If it’s not apparent to her, it certainly is to me.”

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