Wallflower (Whittaker Floral #2)

19. Hannah

19

HANNAH

I had to move quickly for my plan to work. Although I’d left myself over two hours to get things done, I knew my timing would still be tight. Rather than shower, I stripped down and sat on the edge of my bathtub, shaving my legs. I pinned my hair up and away from my face in a way I thought turned out a touch wild but still very pretty, then did my makeup just as Matty had taught me—foundation, powder, eyeliner and eyeshadow, mascara with the eyelash curler, and finally a lip stain, which I threw in my purse after I put it on, in case its staining power wasn’t so great.

I pulled on the dress I’d bought special for the night, cursing myself for not putting it on before I did my hair, but I was able to get the scoop neck over my head without too much harm being done. Not only had I bought a whole new dress, I’d bought the boots to go with it, but part of me still felt ridiculous wearing the whole getup. The dress was a light gray sweater dress, which was really comfortable, but fit so tightly I looked rather like I’d been poured into it. It had three-quarter-length sleeves and between the slightly scooped neck and the length—which was nearly to my knees—it was relatively modest. Still, the way it hugged every curve gave me heart palpitations if I thought about it too much. My breasts, hips, and ass were all on display in this dress. I pulled on the gray booties I bought to go with it, then yanked them off and put on a small pair of socks first. Socks may not be sexy, but I wasn’t walking around barefoot in my boots. The ensemble was entirely different from anything I’d ever worn, but my goal tonight was to blow Deck’s mind, and I hoped this would do it.

It was a quick trip by car to Wrigley Field, and Declan’s hotel was situated just across the street. Hotel Zachary was incredibly elegant inside, and though I imagined Deck fit in seamlessly, I felt out of place. I walked up to the desk, smiling broadly at the man behind the counter, whose name tag declared him “Martin.”

“Hello, I was hoping you would call up to Declan Andrews and tell him he has a guest in the bar.”

“Room number?” Martin asked.

I cringed. I’d been afraid this would happen. “I don’t know it.” I was trying to summon my inner-Elizabeth—relaxed and totally in control—or at least my inner-Matty, who wouldn’t take no for an answer, but I didn’t think I was pulling it off.

Martin shot me an apologetic smile, confirming my suspicions. “I’m sorry, our policy states you need a room number for me to transfer any calls to a room.”

I attempted a face that was part smile and part pout—the kind Matty might employ to great effect—but I felt stupid, and, inhaling deeply, I decided to go the honest route. “I get that, but I don’t want to talk to him, I’m just asking you to leave a message. I—I’m trying to do a cool, sexy surprise thing, and if I call him...not so much. So, I’m going to go sit in the bar, and hope you just call up and tell him he has a guest down here, but if he’s not down in fifteen minutes I’ll assume you didn’t and I’ll call him.” I shook my phone for effect, as if Martin would know just by seeing my iPhone that I was legitimate and not a crazed stalker. Then I started to walk away, but I turned back quickly. “But, Martin? I really hope you call,” I added, my voice high-pitched and strained. Then I walked to the bar, trying to play it cool as I found a seat at one end, allowing myself a good view of the entrance. I ordered a beer, sipping slowly and hoping Martin the desk guy had even one romantic bone in his body.

Ten minutes later I worried Martin had failed me and I’d have to call Deck. As much as I’d hoped to surprise him, if I waited too long and Declan left to pick me up it would be disastrous. Disappointment flaring in my stomach, I opened my purse and fished out my phone. My thumb was hovering above his name, prepared to tap it, as he appeared in the door, looking delicious in a fitted suit. I licked my lips unconsciously, mentally thanking Martin for his little bit of help. Declan hesitated at the entrance to the bar, squinting in, and I caught his eye and smiled.

A toothy grin spread across his face, making him look impossibly handsome, and I stood to meet him halfway, knowing this would be the moment he’d see the outfit I’d so carefully chosen. I held my breath, watching as first his eyes widened, then narrowed slightly until they were smoldering. The intensity of that gaze made my stomach turn a somersault and sent electricity through my body.I yearned for his touch, and—if he suggested it right now—I would’ve been perfectly happy to skip dinner. I would’ve given up eating altogether if it meant going home immediately and having Declan Andrews strip me down.

Crossing the bar in two long strides, he closed the distance between us, resting his hands on my hips. “I like this,” he growled. My lips parted to speak, but my words were cut off by a kiss that took my breath away. I was nearly gasping when he pulled back and said, “You were smart not to come upstairs. I wouldn’t have been able to let you out of that room.” Honestly, that sounded pretty great right now, but instead he wrapped a possessive arm around my waist and looked over his shoulder at my ass as we walked back to my spot at the bar and he ordered a drink.

“Did you plan this?” he asked, running his hand through his hair as he sipped his whiskey.

“I did,” I replied with a smile. “I picked up a few new things and wanted a chance to surprise you.”

He shook his head slowly. “You look unbelievable. I have to be honest, though, I’m worried I’ll turn caveman with all the men looking at you tonight.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a husky growl. “There are already one or two guys in here I might have to hit.”

I laughed at the absurdity of the suggestion. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment, but please let’s not punch anyone tonight, okay?”

He ran a finger along the top of my hand. It was not an area I’d typically describe as an erogenous zone, and yet when Declan traced along my skin the breath caught in my chest. “Do we really have reservations, or was that just a ruse for this—no complaints if it was, by the way.”

“No, we have reservations at Astrid. ”

His eyes widened, as I knew they would. Paul Winfield was probably Chicago’s most famous chef—he had a weekly show and was a frequent judge on all the best cooking competitions. His newest restaurant, Astrid , was the place to eat right now, and reservations were nearly impossible to get. “How did you get reservations?” His eyes widened as a second question apparently occurred to him. “How long have you been planning this?” He was shaking his head in wonder, and the expression alone was enough to turn my knees to jelly.

I smiled coyly, “I only thought of this a couple nights ago, but I know people.”

A sexy grin tilted his lips. “You know people? Through work? Elizabeth?”

I pointed at him, wiggling my index finger in agreement. “No, although that’s a good idea. I bet Elizabeth has some decent connections.” I considered not telling him, since I wasn’t sure he’d like it, but he’d probably find out anyway.“Your brother got this reservation for us.”

“Ethan?”

I raised a single eyebrow. “Do you have other brothers?” I’d assumed—based on conversations with Declan and what I knew of the Andrews’ wedding—that Ethan and Deck were the only children of the family, but it suddenly occurred to me I’d never asked .

He shook his head. “No. It’s just the two of us. Did you call him?” His brow was still knitted tightly, and I was starting to regret this plan.

“I don’t have his number, and calling him would be a little weird, honestly, but I did call Ellie. There are lots of great restaurants in the city, and I figured he had to have a connection at one.” My lips twisted tentatively. “I hope that’s okay,” I added slowly, making a question out of it.

Deck threw back the last of his whiskey. “Better than okay. It’s brilliant. I should’ve thought of it myself.” He stood and held out an arm. “We should get going, then, shouldn’t we?” I linked my elbow through his and we headed out, relieved the reservation wasn’t an issue after all.

We didn’t even look at the menu at the restaurant. Instead, Declan insisted we try the fifteen course tasting menu with the drink pairing. He plucked the menu from my hands, which should’ve annoyed me, but when his eyes went wide and he pleaded that seeing the list of menu items would ruin the surprise of the tasting menu, I acquiesced.I did notice, before my menu was taken, that he was suggesting spending over three hundred dollars a person on this meal. The idea made my heart hammer. I knew Declan was in a far more comfortable financial situation than I was, but casually ordering a six hundred fifty dollar dinner was going on my list of reasons he was not normal, should the discussion arise again.

Waitress gone, sommelier come and gone, Declan cocked his head slightly, the smallest of smiles playing on his lips. His emerald eyes softened as he looked at me for a moment. “Hannah, you may be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” My insides melted, turned into a pool of molten lava that made my chest hurt.I didn’t know what to say. I knew what I wanted to say. I wanted to cry out, I love you so much, but I feared the intensity of such a proclamation would ruin the moment, and I never wanted Declan Andrews to stop looking into my eyes the way he was now.

Instead, I chewed my bottom lip for a second and then replied, “I feel the same way.” I love you, I worship you, I need you. Please never stop looking at me like this.

The first of our food came, and I was soon to discover that, while it was the single best food I’d ever tasted, ordering fifteen items plus pairings from the sommelier meant there was always someone at the table with us.

As we finished our food, we ordered a coffee for each of us and I stood to use the restroom. I came back to find Deck grinning ear to ear. “What?” I asked.

“Woman, that dress. This is the first time you’ve walked away from me. Part of me wants to make you walk in front of me all night so I have an excuse to stare at your ass, but I’m not sure I could handle it. As it is, drink your coffee slowly, because I won’t be standing up for a little while.”

I shot him a wry look, assuming he was being facetious. “I’m glad you like it, but I have to be honest, I feel a little silly in it.”

“God, why?”

“Well, you know, this is how hot women dress, but not really how I dress,” I answered awkwardly.

“Hannah, I could point out at least four men and one woman in this room who have barely taken their eyes off you all night. You are a very hot woman. Very .”

I blushed. “They’re probably looking at you, Deck. The men and the woman.”

“Nope,” he responded simply. “When you walked to the bathroom, my eyes were only two of the ten that couldn’t have been peeled off of you.” My hand floated up to my neck, rubbing it lightly, feeling uncomfortable by this assessment. “You probably never notice all the men looking at you, do you?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes, but Declan looked wholly unmoved by the gesture. “Men are not looking at me all the time. You’re imagining things.”

He looked up, accepting the bill from the waiter and pulling out a credit card. “Hannah, I imagine nothing. We’ve never once gone out together when men didn’t look at you—too often and too interested— because you’re gorgeous.” A smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “But I can see all this talk is making you uncomfortable, so I’ll stop.”

I was uncomfortable. I knew Declan Andrews was out of my league, and hearing him tell me otherwise felt almost patronizing. “Ready to go?” he asked, standing and offering me a hand.

“I am.” I stood without his assistance, and he placed his hand on the small of my back instead. “Thank you for dinner. I think it was the best food I’ve ever eaten.”

“Thank you for dinner,” he responded, looping an arm about my waist and pulling me in close enough to sneak a kiss on the neck. “It was amazing food, I agree. Did you have other plans for the evening?”

My expression fell as I realized I was out of ideas. “I don’t.”

He smiled. “Excellent. I’m inviting myself over to your apartment.”

A half hour later we were curled up on my couch, watching the end of a baseball game. Truman, who usually made himself comfortable next to me, had chosen instead to lay on the other side of the couch, his massive head resting on Declan’s lap so Deck could pet him.Although affectionate, Truman was picky when it came to humans. He’d loved my friend Drea, but had never warmed up to Matty, who was not interested in dogs. Declan hadn’t seemed to like dogs much either, so I found their new friendship particularly heartwarming.

I lay on Declan’s other side, my head pressed to his chest, listening to the slow thumping of his heart while he waxed poetic about baseball in general and some potential trades in particular. I didn’t care in the least, but didn’t mind his chatter.Occasionally I offered a perfunctory “mmm-hmm” for no other purpose than to give him permission to keep talking, even if I wasn’t really listening. I didn’t think I’d ever be very interested in baseball, but I’d be perfectly happy to sit like this every night for the rest of my life, listening to him talk about it.