Page 45 of Wake Me Most Wickedly
Hannah placed both hands on her lower back and pushed, stretching her now sore, aching muscles. She should’ve asked for another bath before she left, even if she’d already stayed too long nestled in Sol’s arms, the sound of his voice and his silly little stories lulling her into a sort of contentment she hadn’t felt in years, if ever.
Oy. This was why she should never have returned, never told him what she’d told no one else in the world—secrets that he rightly should’ve loathed her for but somehow didn’t—and she certainly should not have kept the damned perfume when all was said and done. These things weren’t for her, and getting used to them would only make her soft and weak.
She’d sell the bottle, she consoled herself, and be done with this all.
It was wisest course of action. Especially as she’d not heard from the stranger. And true to Ned’s word, her regulars had been silent.
“Are you sure you’re able to work today?” Her sister moved behind her to swipe a rag over the glass panes of their living area windows. She gave Hannah a sharp nudge with her elbow before sniffing the air. “And you smell fancy. Quite the improvement.”
She was definitely selling the perfume.
“I smell like I always do,” she lied. Fighting a yawn, she shook her arms out before moving over to the stove to give the fire a poke. It was nippy inside and out. She glanced out the window—it looked like more sleet was coming. “And I’m fine. I made breakfast and swept and already served the morning rush. And now I’m on to lunch.”
“You fell asleep standing up,” Tamar scoffed before holding up a finger as Hannah attempted to protest, because she had certainly not.
Well, not for more than a few seconds.
“And you can’t stop yawning,” Tamar added just as another one came on. “Go rest, Hannah.”
“I told you, I’m fine.” She rubbed the back of her neck. She couldn’t leave Tamar to run the shop—it was her responsibility. Besides, her sister, while eager to help, hadn’t developed an eye for what could or could not get them hauled into court, nor did Hannah want her to. And considering the number of risky goods she’d been forced to reject as of late, Hannah couldn’t risk not being the one fronting the store.
“You’re tired,” Tamar said. She glanced around then lowered her voice. “And you need your strength.”
“I’m fit as a fiddle,” she lied again. “Don’t worry, I’m well enough to work so that when business picks up, there’ll be plenty of money to add to your dowry.” She made her voice sound bright despite the worry gnawing in her gut as she pictured their dwindling finances.
Tamar rolled her eyes. “Yes, that’s what matters to me so much, the dowry, not that you’re going to fall over, hit your head, and never wake.”
Better that than allow you to be lured into a setup.Like you almost did first thing, when I was in the back room for two minutes.Not that she could say that out loud. Her sister had been so upset when she’d rushed out and canceled the transaction, pouting in the back room for over an hour. Though pouting was much better than being extorted, or worse, hanged.
“You need rest, Hannah.” Tamar’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Her sister wrinkled her nose as she gave Hannah a head-to-toe gaze. “You’re off lately. Is it that man?”
“What man?” She moved to the window and futzed with the curtains.
“You know which one.” Her sister glared at Hannah.
“I thought you liked him?” Hannah asked as she retrieved another of Tamar’s shawls which had fallen on the floor and folded it before shoving it into her sister’s arms.
“I do,” Tamar admitted with a slight scowl as she clutched the object to her chest and marched back into the kitchen after Hannah. “But I liked him better when he came around here instead of making you sneak off in the night.” She wagged a finger and Hannah had to bite back a laugh.
Oy. Perhaps she’d sheltered her sister a touch too much. Sweeping her skirts to the side, she leaned against the gnarled worktable, where she could chop but also see the stove, the quick, neat rhythm from the knife focusing the ball of nervous worry that would not leave her senses.
“Tamar. You know—I’m—I sneak off in the night with quite a few men, right?” She paused her work for a moment to study her sister’s face. “I mean, we haven’t discussed…” She swallowed.
Her sister scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I’m not a child, Hannah. I know quite a few things.”
Hannah bit her lip so she wouldn’t snicker at the bold proclamation.
“So you know this is no different,” she said instead, gentling her voice. “It’s a temporary arrangement for mutually beneficial pleasure, which will end very shortly as I’m too busy for such a thing.”
Tamar squinted at her. “Truly?”
“Yes. Of course.” Hannah brushed her skirts before moving to the stove. “It’s most certainly over now.” Stirring the pot, she waved away the steam.
“If you say so.” Tamar’s voice was soft as she rose off her seat and drifted toward Hannah. “This is going to end in hurt, you know?”
Hannah reached out and gave her sister’s arm a squeeze. “Darling, no one can hurt me.” She sniffed a little. “Except maybe you—and you would never. But he’s just a man, not family. So there’s no danger.”
“Isn’t there?” her sister asked, her tone sharp.
