Hook, Line, and Sinker (Bellinger Sisters)

Fox moved to the freezer and took out the ice cream. Chocolate-vanilla swirl had seemed like a surefire bet when he picked it out at the supermarket yesterday. Best of both worlds, right? Watching her reaction, he took a spoon out of the drawer and stabbed it into the top, handing her the entire pint. “Explain what you mean about Piper and this Betty chick being leading ladies.”

“Brinley,” she corrected him, laughing with her eyes.

Fox made a face. “An LA name if I’ve ever heard one.”

“You sound like Brendan.”

“Ouch,” he complained, clutching his chest. Letting his hand drop away. “An explanation, please, Freckles.”

She seemed to wrestle with her thoughts while taking a relishing bite of ice cream and drawing the spoon from between her lips slowly. Mesmerizingly.

Fox coughed and dragged his attention higher.

“I’m good at being . . . supportive. You know? Giving advice and doling out helpful suggestions. When it comes to my own stuff, though . . . not so much.” She let that settle quietly in the kitchen before continuing. “Like I can pack up, put my job on hold, and move to Westport because Piper needs me. But I can’t even ask my boss for a chance to observe? How crazy is that? I can’t even”—she gave a dazed chuckle—“tell Sergei I’ve had this dumb crush on him for two years. I just kind of stand around waiting for things to happen, while other people seem to make them happen so easily. I can help others—I like doing that—but I’m a supporting actress, not a leading lady. That’s what I meant by that.”

Wow. Here she was. Confiding in him—in person. About her insecurities. About the guy she wanted to date. This was his first heart-to-heart with a girl. No flirting or pretense. Just honesty. Up until that moment, it was possible Fox hadn’t fully grasped that Hannah really, actually, one hundred percent only thought of him as just a friend. That all those texts weren’t a unique, platonic style of foreplay. After all, she had eyes. She’d seen him, right? But there was no unspoken interest on her part. This really was just friendship. She apparently liked whatever the hell Fox had lurking on the inside. And even though he felt like he’d been socked in the fucking stomach, he still wanted to meet her expectations. Although, he suspected his ego would be purple with bruises by the time this was over.

“Hey,” he said, clearing the rust from his voice, putting another few inches of distance between them. “Look, I’ll be honest, I’ve never heard such a load of bullshit in my life. You’re supportive, yeah. The way you defended Piper to the captain? You are fierce and loyal. All those things, Hannah. But you’re . . . Don’t make me say it out loud.”

“Say it,” she whispered, lips twitching.

“You are leading-lady material.”

Those twitching lips spread into a smile. “Thanks.”

Fox could see he might have made Hannah smile, but the issues were far from solved. For one, she liked the director, and for some reason Fox couldn’t fathom, the dumbass wasn’t chasing after her with a bouquet of red roses. How could he help with that? Did he want to help her with that? It was a fisherman’s nature to plug leaks, fix problems when they arose. For another, Hannah not feeling one hundred percent happy was a definite problem in his book. “The guy was jealous, you know. Back at the bus when I came to pick you up.”

Her head came up, expression hopeful, but it faded just as quickly, unlike the knot tying tighter inside him. “No, he was just being nice,” she said, digging back into the ice cream. Chocolate side only, he noted for next time.

Next time?

“Hannah, trust me. I know when I’m intimidating another guy.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Is jealous the same thing as intimidated?”

“Yes. When men are intimidated by other men, especially ridiculously hot men like yours truly—”

She snort-laughed.

“—they assert themselves. Fight to get the upper hand back. It’s a natural reaction. Law of the jungle. That’s why he wanted to get your bag. That’s why he kept his arm around you way too long.” Fox grabbed at the sweaty, icy skin at the nape of his neck. “He didn’t like that you were staying with me, and he especially didn’t like me calling you Freckles. He was intimidated and, therefore, jealous.”

Fox didn’t add that he was speaking from experience.

Intimidated by some artsy goatee-sporting guy from LA. A Russian, no less. Russians were their main competition during crab season, as if he needed another reason to dislike the motherfucker.

God, he was jumpy. “Anyway, all I’m saying is . . . he’s not not interested.”

“This is all very fascinating,” Hannah said around her spoon. “But if you’re right, if Sergei was jealous, he’ll eventually realize there is nothing happening between you and me, and he has no reason to . . . resort to jungle laws.” Casually, she poked at the ice cream. “Unless we let him think we’re sleeping together. Maybe he needs to be shaken up.”