Hook, Line, and Sinker (Bellinger Sisters, #2)

by Tessa Bailey

“You’re having a shit day, aren’t you?” he said for her ears alone. She exhaled. “Yeah.” He made a humming sound, tilted his head sympathetically. “Tell me which bag is yours and I’ll bring you back to my place.” Gently, he tugged on a strand of her hair. “Make it all better.”

“How … ? What do you mean by that? That you’ll make my day better. How are you going to do that?” “I was thinking ice cream.” He gave her a smile that could only belong to an irreverent rascal—and, Lord, she’d forgotten about the dimples. Dimples, for crying out loud. “Why? What were you thinking?”

He’d never been jealous over a girl in his life. Except for this one. When he’d caught sight of Sergei bundling Hannah down the stairs of the bus, his head ducked toward her in concern, that ugly green had splashed across his vision like a rogue wave across the deck, reminding him of the first time he’d heard the director’s name. His first impulse had been to break the guy’s nose—the opposite of what he should be doing. If Hannah was his friend, why would he want to mess up her budding romance? Maybe he was jealous in a friendly way? A total possibility.

Nothing was doing it for him lately. Nothing but the three little dots popping up in their text thread. And now head wounds. How pathetic was that?

“And just for the record, I would be honored to fake sleep with you. Sordid reputation and all.”

He whispered her name right before she pushed up on her toes, locking their mouths together, right there in the entrance to the living room. She was immediately bowled over by the hunger of his masculine lips, and then he turned her, pressing her back to the inside of the arched doorway, opening his mouth on top of hers and licking into the kiss with a choked sound. With her thoughts muddling and a languid heat rendering her arms limp, Hannah realized she’d made a huge mistake. She was Eve in the Garden of Eden, and she’d just taken a bite from the apple.

Hannah was the furthest thing from temporary, and Fox only did short-term. Very short-term. That personal rule kept him from getting his hopes up, from thinking he could be one half of a relationship again. Women didn’t bring Fox home to meet their parents. He was more of the side-piece type.

“You’re enough when you’re not touching me,” she whispered, not even sure she said it out loud until Fox’s expression went from lusting to dumbstruck, his chest starting to heave. “You’re enough on your own.”

This girl who didn’t want to have sex with him—and yet was still interested. Lying there in his bed wanting to know more about him. No sign of judgment. No impatience. No movements at all. And as much as he resented the intrusion into his inner hell, Jesus, he fucking adored her, wanted to give her anything she wanted. So badly that it burned.

Somehow, over the course of the night, she’d entered the fray with Fox without making a conscious decision. She was in it, this battle for his soul. Now that she was here, however, it was beginning to seem unlikely that she could remain too long without … falling for him. God. She was. Falling fast.

Hiding the record player and albums from her had been selfish. He’d felt selfish so many times. But he’d bought the fucking thing for reasons he didn’t know how to express out loud. A gut-born need to be what she wanted.

She was here with him, wasn’t she? Playing bingo, singing with him in the car, talking. Decidedly not fucking. If Hannah liked him for more than his potential to give her an orgasm … if someone so smart and incredible believed he was more … couldn’t it possibly be true?

wheel—“I want you underneath me so bad that I can’t lie in bed without already feeling you there. I’ve never even had you, and your body haunts mine.”

“I’m jealous as fuck.” He seemed to be having a hard time getting breath into his lungs. “You’re … my Hannah, you know?”

Because he was in love with Hannah. Stupid, hot-under-the-collar, pulse-tripping love that crowded his chest and throbbed in his fingertips. Might as well face it, he’d started stumbling last summer, and now? Now he was flat on his ass with canaries taking laps around his head.

He loved her humor, her tenacity and bravery, the way she defended the people she loved like a soldier in battle. He loved the fact that she didn’t shy away from the tough subjects, even though they scared him in the moment. Her iron will, the way she closed her eyes and mouthed song lyrics like they were baptizing her. Her face, her body, her scent. She’d infiltrated him, become a part of him before he’d realized what was happening, and now … He didn’t want her out. He wanted to stay locked in her goodness.

“You’re a surprise, Hannah. How could I hate them?” He cleared his throat hard. “Even familiar … you’re a constant surprise.”

“You’d come to Westport for your sister. Such a selfless thing to do, working on the bar and living in that dusty little apartment and … you deserved a day just for you. I’d already spent so much time searching for that convention, finding something you might enjoy, though. I got worried that showing you the Sound Garden on top of the expo might make how I felt obvious. Might tip my hand.”

“I had it bad for you. If the convention didn’t make it obvious, I thought for sure the Fleetwood Mac album would do it.” His voice stumbled. “I’ve got it so bad for you, Hannah. Really”—he blew out a breath—“really bad. I tried to keep you out of here.” He knocked his free fist against his chest. “But you won’t go. You’re never going to go. You just won’t.”

“God, Hannah. What if I’m not what you need? What if everyone knows it but you? What if you realize it’s true and I have you … then lose you? That would fucking kill me. I don’t know what to do—”

“Fox, if we were together, my trust would be the only trust that matters. And you would have it. I know who you are. If other people haven’t looked closely enough, that’s their flaw. Their dilemma. Not ours.”

Hannah had a playlist consisting of 308 love songs and not one of them could describe this moment accurately. Not even close. Realizing she loved this man while he ripped his wallet apart looking for protection, his hair falling into his eyes, muscles heaving under ink and a light layer of sweat.

I love him. I love him.

“You make me feel like I’m in the exact right place.” He exhaled into her neck, kissing it reverently. “Nothing to run or hide from. Nothing I want to avoid.”

the crowd, focused solely on her, his hands were

“Fox, listen to me. I don’t care how many different beds you’ve been in. I know you belong in mine. And I belong in yours, and that’s what matters.

“You’re wonderful, and I love you. Okay, you stupid idiot? So when you’ve done some thinking and pulled your head out of your stubborn ass, come and find me. You’re worth the wait.”

“Hannah, it’s me. Please, please, get off the bus. I’m coming home right now. I’m …” His voice lost power. “Just get off the bus somewhere safe and wait for me, all right? I fucking love you. I love you. And I’m sorry you fell in love with an idiot. I’m …” Find the words. Find the right words. “Remember in Seattle, you said we’ve been trying this whole time. Since last summer. To be in a relationship. I didn’t fully understand at the time, but I do now. There was never going to be a life away from you, because, Jesus, that’s no life at all. You, Hannah. Are my life. I love you and I’m coming home, so please, babe. Please. Will you just wait for me? I’m sorry.”

“Whoever we become together, Hannah,” he said, mouth roaming over hers, fingers reaching down to lower his zipper. “I’m yours and you’re mine. So it’s always going to be right.”

“I’m in for the good, bad, and everything in between, Hannah.” He pressed his open mouth to the side of her neck and pushed deeper, deep enough, close enough to feel her breathe, and rejoiced in it. “Decades. A lifetime. I’m in.”