Page 9 of The Pink House

Charlie remained at Hannah’s side, watching the interplay.

“Imaginary versus real?” Charlie’s voice remained easy as he reentered the conversation, his gaze fixed on Hannah’s face. “Now I’m intrigued.”

Before Hannah could respond, Mackenna jerked a thumb in Hannah’s direction, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “This one had an imaginary pink house when she was growing up. Kind of goes with the territory, you know, considering all the supernatural activity attributed to GraceTown.”

Hannah opened her mouth to remind her friend that in all the years she’d spent in this area, she hadn’t seen or experienced anything strange or mystical, but Mackenna continued. “In that pink house was everything Hannah ever wanted. The book she wanted, that special doll her dad wouldn’t buy her. She’d look at me and say, ‘It doesn’t matter. I have one at my pink house.’”

Memories that had been buried for so long came flooding back. The pink house had disappeared around her eighth birthday, when she had realized that the house that contained everything she wanted, including a kind and loving mother, didn’t exist.

“My dad didn’t like me talking about the pink house.” Hannah’s lips tipped in a rueful smile. “When he mentioned having me speak with someone about ‘my fantasies,’ I never brought it up again.”

Perhaps his reaction was another reason she’d buried the memory. And why the pink house she’d seen today had seemed so familiar.

“Do you think you could find it again?” Charlie asked.

“I’m not sure.” Hannah waved a dismissive hand, suddenly embarrassed. “Forget about the house. It’s time to party.”

* * *

Charlie took a drink of beer and watched Hannah dance with some friends.

“She’s smokin’ hot.” Jordan Frosheiser, also known as Frosty, tipped his beer bottle in the group’s direction.

Though Charlie knew Jordan could have been speaking of any of the women, it was clear, at least to Charlie, that the man had Hannah in his sights.

What did it say that it pleased him that Hannah had paid as little attention to Jordan as she had to him this evening?

“She is,” Charlie acknowledged when he realized his former teammate was waiting for a response. “But Brian hasn’t been gone all that long and—”

“He’s been dead over a year.” Jordan, who’d gone through a divorce last fall, snorted. “I was fishing in the dating pool six weeks after Kelli and I split.”

It shouldn’t have been necessary to point out the obvious, but Jordan could be dense at times. “Hannah and Brian didn’t get a divorce. He died.”

Jordan pushed off the wall and handed Charlie his empty beer bottle. “Time to hook her and reel her in before someone else snags her.”

Keeping the man in sight, Charlie strolled over to a recycling bin and tossed in Jordan’s bottle, then finished off his own beer and did the same.

Since Charlie had driven tonight, he’d stop at one.

“Hey, Charlie.” Andrea, a hairstylist he’d briefly dated last year, wrapped a proprietary hand around his arm. She gazed up at him through lashes that were so long and dense, it was a wonder her lids could hold them up. “Dance with me?”

“Maybe later.” He gently disengaged her hand from his arm. “I’m busy right now.”

Her red lips formed a pout. “You don’t look busy to me.”

He frowned when Jordan took Hannah’s hand. She jerked free, and Charlie swore he could see her eyes shooting blue fire.

“Not cool, man, not cool at all.” Charlie’s mutter had the woman beside him frowning.

“What did you say?”

“I gotta go.” He tossed the words over his shoulder even as he began walking with long, purposeful strides toward Hannah and Jordan.

He slowed his steps when Jordan lifted his hands, palms out, and took two big steps back. With the music so loud and being a good distance away still, Charlie didn’t catch what he said.

Whatever it was had the tense set to Hannah’s jaw easing as she turned back to her friends.

Charlie knew most of the women near Hannah. Instead of continuing to her, he simply joined the group and let the music flow through him.

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