Wallflower (Whittaker Floral #2)

18. Declan

18

DECLAN

T he next morning, I woke to the sound Hannah yelling. “Oh my God, Deck!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t set my alarm. I’m so late.”

Groggily, I watched as she jumped out of bed and got dressed as fast as she could, brushing her teeth at lighting speed and twisting her hair back out of her face.I sat up in bed, blinking stupidly.

She looked at me seriously as she pulled on her black combat boots. “I have to leave right now. If I run to the train I can still make it. Will you please take Truman out?” She tossed me a spare set of keys and disappeared out the back door with a single yelled, “Thank you!”

I sat on Hannah’s bed, holding the keys to the apartment and staring at the dog, who was staring back at me. I’d never had keys to a woman’s apartment before. I’d also never had a dog. I’d taken Truman on a couple of walks with Hannah, but I'd never attempted to take him anywhere on my own. I stared at Truman and he stared back, never blinking. It was unnerving, and I was pretty sure he didn’t like me.

Hannah kept his leash next to the door, and the dog followed me as I walked to it. The process was straightforward enough—I buckled the leash onto the collar and put the closed circle end on my wrist. I twisted the lock on Hannah’s door then stopped. I’d forgotten the keys she’d given me. Dropping the leash, I ran back and grabbed my car keys and Hannah’s apartment keys, shoving them all into my pocket. Truman remained at the door.

Finally, I opened it for us and Truman stepped through, sitting again while I turned back to lock the door. I tried to pull Hannah’s keys out of my pocket, but they’d become a tangled mess with my own keys, which fell with a loud clatter as I yanked hers out. Unperturbed, the dog remained sitting, looking up at me and blinking a few times in a way that looked suspiciously like an eye roll. I frowned down at him. “Stop that,” I said, then wrapped his leash around my hand an extra loop and headed toward the sidewalk below.

Downstairs, I began Truman on his loop around the block, stopping to let him go to the bathroom over and over again, marking every vertical surface in the neighborhood. “Surely you don’t have anything left in you,” I muttered, a sentiment which Truman answered by crouching down and looking me in the eye while he shit. I looked down at the pile in disgust, knowing I would have to pick it up and carry it around until we passed a garbage.

Overall, Truman was a good dog, and I didn’t dislike him, but this was the part of dog ownership I couldn’t quite wrap my head around. I grabbed two of the little baggies Hannah kept in a container attached to the leash and doubled them over my fingers before I scooped up the shit and tied the bag off. Even through two layers of plastic, I could feel the warmth, and my throat flexed involuntarily. Unfortunately, the nearest garbage turned out to be around the block, so I was stuck holding it for a while. I tried not to think about it.

As we passed my rental car, I stopped at the trunk and grabbed the gym bag I’d used yesterday, then we headed back into the apartment. Once I let us in, I dropped the bag unceremoniously on the floor, let go of Truman’s leash, and walked directly to the sink to wash my hands. I swore I could still feel the heat of that shit on my fingers, and I scrubbed a little extra to be sure I was clean. Truman padded around me, holding the loose end of his leash in his mouth. “If you’re all done shitting, we could go for a jog,” I offered, grabbing my bag and pulling out my workout gear. In Hannah’s room, I changed into a T-shirt, shorts, and running shoes, looking around me as I dressed. The space was small and tidy, sparse rather than feminine or frilly, a small white dresser and smaller white nightstand the only furniture besides her bed. She had no TV in the room and no decor on the walls other than a full-length mirror with a decorative white frame.

Truman poked me with his nose, his tail wagging and the leash still in his mouth. “Okay, okay. Here I come,” I said, picking up his leash and heading back through the doors once more.

It was quickly evident Truman was used to running with Hannah. He kept his shoulder parallel to my hip as we made our way down to the lakefront—mostly trotting, but occasionally loping when I hit my speed bursts. Although Hannah’d last taken me north, I chose to go south, towards the city, because the view was amazing.

After a while we stopped at a drinking fountain and I drank, then made cups of water with my hands to give to Truman. There was a bench nearby, and we sat in amicable silence together, people watching while I stroked Truman’s smooth brown head. “You’re a good boy, Tru,” I said, feeling an odd surge of post-run camaraderie toward the dog. “You ready to head home?”

Truman stood as if he had a full understanding of my question, and I liked that. At least Hannah didn’t have some stupid chihuahua that barked at its own reflection in mirrors. Although a chihuahua would, at the very least, take smaller shits. We crossed to the southbound jogging lane and began the trip home, Truman keeping perfect pace with me, his oversized head swinging up to look at me every time I glanced down.

Hannah had off at the start of every week, and I was delighted when her schedule finally lined up with an out-of-town series, meaning we’d get to spend a lot of time together. I suggested we travel, but Hannah insisted we stay in town, declaring there was much more in Chicago than outside of it .

I came by the apartment after she got home from work Sunday night and ended up staying the night, in theory because we could get an early start, though in reality we were in no rush the next morning.

It was Hannah’s touch that woke me, making me wish I could skip the alarm in favor of a hand-job wake-up every morning. My voice was gruff as I pulled her towards me. “One of these mornings I’m going to wake you up.”

She chuckled, and it vibrated into my chest. “Four am sex wake-up notwithstanding, you’ve never woken up before me.”

She had a point. Back when I worked my regular nine-to-five, I’d been an early riser, but at some point I’d become a night owl. Hannah wasn’t exactly a morning person herself, and yet she was always awake before me.

I rolled on top of her, balancing in a plank above her body, then dipped close to kiss her, nipping gently at the delectable pout of her bottom lip. She grinned up at me, and that smile did something to me—some magic it wasn’t supposed to be able to do so soon after we’d met.

An hour later, we were in the car, driving north up Lake Shore Drive. Although the car had GPS, Hannah insisted on navigating to maintain secrecy. “Listen,” she said matter of factly, “I know you tend to take really good care of yourself, but not today, okay? Today we’re going to eat some amazing food and it’s going to be terrible for us, and we’re going to be cool about it.” I smiled and agreed, not minding the day off, especially since it meant Hannah had noticed what care I took when it came to my health.

We drove until Lake Shore Drive ended, at which point she instructed me to get on Sheridan Road and continue north. Sheridan meandered this way and that, but always we stayed with it. Hannah marveled at the houses as we moved into the wealthy North Shore neighborhoods. I decided there was no benefit to explaining my parents house could be picked up and moved here and it would fit in unquestionably. Hannah had always been put off by my family’s money. We stopped at a Starbucks for coffee and then continued, this time also making our way west. Finally, we pulled up to a white building that Hannah declared our first stop.

“This place has world famous pancakes,” she informed me as we entered. The restaurant was filled with wood booths and the host at the door led us to one, handing us each a menu. “I have to be honest, though, I’ve never eaten here.”

I ordered the aforementioned World Famous Pancakes and Hannah got a plate of French toast. Both were enormous, but I ate with gusto, having agreed to not think about being healthy for the day. I sampled from Hannah’s meal as well, and both were delicious. We left full, and I was glad we’d made love that morning, because as stuffed as I was—having eaten barely half the plate—I wasn’t sure I’d be having sex any time in the future.

Coffees in hand, we spent over an hour walking around the small town, visiting art stores and gift shops and a small book store. It was shocking how often I found myself overwhelmed by a surge of feelings for Hannah, and over and over I stopped on the sidewalk to pull her close and kiss her. I couldn’t say whether those feelings were affection, lust, love, or any combination thereof, but I was certain I wanted to be with her every spare moment I had.

Back in the car, Hannah was clearly leading me east, and eventually we found ourselves parking just south of her apartment. “You can’t be in Chicago and not stop at the beach,” she informed me, grinning as she led me under a pathway and to a spot on the beach that was almost exactly where I’d jogged with Truman a couple days prior. I didn’t tell her, though, because I didn’t want to ruin her tour.

“It’s too cold to swim,” I said instead, regretting the words as soon as they were out of my mouth, but Hannah simply shrugged off my comment as if I were a touch dim.

“It’s always too cold to swim in Chicago. It has to be a hundred and fifty degrees out before the water feels good, it’s so damn icy, but it’s the beach.”

I grinned in her direction. “You’re aware I lived my entire childhood a stone’s throw from the Pacific and my entire adult life a stone’s throw from the Atlantic?” I never wanted to embarrass Hannah, and yet, since the moment I’d met her, I couldn’t resist ribbing her. When we first met, I thought she disliked it, but more and more she surprised me with witty retorts.

“This is not a competition, Uncle Money Bags,” she said, pinching my side. We took our shoes and socks off and walked through the sand until she found a spot she liked, then she pulled a towel from the bag she was carrying and laid it sideways, giving us both room to sit. I sat down and looked out at the water. Hannah sat next to me, shoulder to shoulder, but facing the other direction.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“The water is nice, but I prefer this view.” I turned my body to mirror hers and understood immediately. The view from this direction was a breathtaking, unobstructed view of the Chicago skyline. She leaned into me and I wrapped an arm around her waist. We were quiet together, and I had the sudden, foolish urge to tell her I loved her, but I didn’t want to say it so soon, so instead I held her and turned my chin to rest on her head, breathing in the scent of her. It wasn’t specifically floral today, but was decidedly Hannah nonetheless.

We ate lunch at a drive-in on the north side before Hannah had me bring us back home. I grinned at her seductively. “Does the evening include locking ourselves in your apartment?”

“It does not. Actually, I’m sending you home.”

My grin melted down into a frown. This hadn’t been how I’d hoped we end the evening. “Is something the matter?”

This time it was she who smiled. “Not in the least, Deck, but I’ve scored us 6:30 reservations at one of the hottest restaurants in the city and you need to go home and get all fancy and handsome.” She tugged on my T-shirt for emphasis.

We took Truman for a quick walk together, discussing the pick-up details for this evening. I was supposed to go back to my hotel, shower and get dressed, and then return to pick her up at 5:30. She stressed I shouldn’t come early because she wanted to look just right when I got there. I didn’t argue, but as far as I was concerned it was near impossible for her to look any better than she already did. The woman was gorgeous no matter what she wore. I kissed her and headed back to the hotel.

Back in my room, I stripped off my clothes and jumped in the shower, letting the water run hot over me. As usual, my thoughts drifted to Hannah and my lips tipped in a smile. The feelings should worry me—they were big, exciting, foreign feelings, after all—but as I let the water rinse down my soapy body, the smile deepened.

I stepped out of the large white shower and wrapped a towel around my waist. From my closet, I pulled out a slim-fit charcoal suit along with a crisp white shirt and gray tie, and laid it all out on the bed. Back in the bathroom, I brushed my teeth again but decided against shaving, thinking Hannah might find the 5 o’clock shadow sexy. I did, however, skim my beard trimmer over it to make sure it was neat, then ran putty through my hair to make my curls stay put. I was headed back to the bedroom to get changed, but I paused, looking first at my suit and then at the watch I’d just strapped back onto my wrist. I was running early, and the suit would only end up rumpled if I put it on now, so I decided to sit for awhile and turn on the day’s sports highlights.