My Twist of Fortune by Rayne, Piper (little red riding hood read aloud txt) 📗

He nods. “You should come to the town meeting next week. They’re talking about tearing down the old fishing wharf because Art Billings died last year. Before he died, the place was getting pretty run down, but no one has maintained it since he passed. My son’s friend’s dad wants to buy it and build it into a tourist attraction with boats that go out on the water. Then the fishing boats could use it too.”

“Art Billings died?” He was a good man. He had no family to pass his company down to and I’d always hoped he’d find someone he trusted enough to sell it to, but I guess he didn’t.

“Yeah, his health had been declining for years. But the whole town is torn on the issue. Cameron—that’s my son’s friend—his dad is really pushing hard though. I think we can all agree that an increase in tourism comes with both the good and the bad.”

“That’s true. You think of the money it can generate for the town’s businesses, but I’m sure our small-town feel will suffer at the same time.”

“That’s why you should vote. You are a resident again.”

“Technically, I’m not. I’m living with my parents.”

“Did you change your license to an Alaskan one?”

“Yes.”

“Then you are. Come on. We’ll go together. Really get this town talking.” He winks.

“I’ll go, but maybe we shouldn’t walk in together. We could pretend both of us being there is a coincidence.”

He smirks and shakes his head, placing the meat on the small griddle we were given. I can’t tell if he’s happy or disappointed. “Deal.”

Kat tells us all that we have fifteen minutes until we have to present our meal. I can’t believe how fast time flew by. I run to the fridge and grab our salad and dressing. Hank prepares the vegetables and the meat while I do the salad, waiting until only a minute until the bell goes off before I put the dressing on, so it doesn’t make the lettuce soggy.

The buzzer goes off, and Hank grabs me and wraps me up in a hug.

“Great job, partner,” he says in my ear.

“Thanks.” I’m taken aback by his show of affection, but the longer I remain in his arms, the more I realize that I feel safe. Being this close to him makes me happy.

The entire time we were preparing the meal, I kept wishing I could kiss him. I wonder how he kisses, if he’ll be slow or urgent. Will the tension release and we’ll claw at one another until we’re satisfied, or will we be slow and savor each other?

After we separate, Kat comes by and tastes our food. She takes a bite of the salad and points. “Love this dressing.”

I smile wide at her. “Thanks.”

“You went out on your own, huh?”

“I did.”

Hank sidles up next to me, his hand resting on my hip as though we’re a real couple. One who will be going home and sharing a bed tonight.

“And my guess is this strong guy cooked the steak?”

“I did,” Hank says, and his hand squeezes my side.

I find myself sinking into his solid weight. The physical nature of his job has made sure those muscles he used to have under his T-shirts in high school are still there.

“Nice. You two did great.” Kat sounds surprised, as though she thought we were failures from the minute we walked in.

As she goes to the next table, Hank takes a fork and stabs the salad. He chews and swallows, eyes widening. “Damn, that’s good, and I’m not a salad guy.”

“Not a lot of Alaskans are.”

He mocks offense. “Don’t stereotype your new home.”

“I’m just saying.” I shrug with a smile. Jeez, I can’t seem to stop smiling around him.

He points at the salad with his fork before stabbing another forkful. “This is what you should be doing.”

“What?”

“Make salad dressings and sell them.”

I laugh. “You’re insane.”

He continues to eat the salad, and I pick up a fork to eat it as well. It is good, but how would I ever start anything like that? There have got to be so many rules and regulations with food.

“I see your mind whirling at the possibilities,” he says softly. Then he takes the bowl of lettuce with the tongs and stops at the first table beside us. “Try this and tell us your opinion.”

They look at him skeptically, but they taste it and smile and nod as though they’re in agreement.

Hank goes around the room, and my cheeks heat the more praise I get. It wasn’t even chilled long enough.

He returns with an empty bowl. “Now I’m going to need you to whip up a batch for my own private use. The doctor said I need more greens.” He pats his flat stomach.

A weird rush comes over me, and it takes me a minute to realize what it is. No one except maybe my parents have ever believed in me like this. I step up to him and rise on my tiptoes, my lips pressing to his.

At first he freezes and doesn’t move. I shift to fall back on my heels, but his arm swings around my waist and he keeps me plastered to his body. His tongue slides in and I melt into his hold when it glides against mine. Forgetting where we are, I moan into his mouth and he groans, his hand falling to the back of my head.

Clapping commences around us. I tear my lips from his, turning my head to look away from everyone and pressing my cheek to Hank’s chest.

“Sorry, folks, we’re new to this dating thing.” Hank puts up one hand.

Someone in the room refers to young love. I giggle because we almost have adult children.

“Never let the romance die,” one man says.

“Gotta keep that sexual energy alive and kicking,” a woman says.

As more comments roll around, I grip Hank to shield me from my embarrassment. He doesn’t seem to mind, wrapping his arms around me. I forgot how nice it felt to be part of a