Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

I shouldn’t be surprised when I see that Brandon went before Hannah in line.

It’s not like I want him flirting with her, but I also don’t want anyone treating my girl like anything less than the fucking queen she is. Plus, it’s common fucking courtesy. Which Brandon clearly doesn’t possess.

He turns to face the room, food in hand, and looks for a place to sit, purposely not looking at my table.

Behind him, Hannah reaches for a bottle of lemonade— same as me— then steps around him.

She doesn’t say anything to him, doesn’t ask where he wants to sit, because she didn’t come here for him.

Her eyes meet mine, and she bites down on a smile.

She came here for me.

And in her eyes, I can see the same relief I feel over finally being in the same place again.

She crosses the room, moving directly to me.

There’s still an open spot next to me, on the other side from where those PMs put their waters, but Hannah stops directly across the table from me. Same seating arrangement from that first lunch.

“This seat taken?” Her voice is a fucking balm to my soul.

“It’s all yours.”

Setting her items down, she pulls the chair out and sits down. “Thanks for lunch.”

I look down at her selection and let the side of my mouth pull up. Ham and cheese. The whole reason I ordered food today.

A handful of items land on the table beside Hannah as Brandon drops his food into the empty spot next to her. Another way this is just like that first lunch.

“Brandon.” I tip my head his way. “How’s the car?”

Something bumps into my shin under the table.

“It’s fine,” Brandon grumbles as he takes a seat.

I quickly shift my knees apart, then back together, trapping Hannah’s shoe between my legs.

Brandon starts in on a tirade about how the insurance companies are taking their sweet-ass time and how he had to pay out of pocket…

I stopped listening four seconds in.

Hannah tries to pull her foot back, but I keep it trapped until the PMs start to head back toward our table. Then I reluctantly let her go.

“This looks so good,” the woman sitting closest to me says as she sets her food down and takes a seat.

Brandon had been taking a breath in his rant, so she unwittingly cut him off. Oh darn.

The rest of the spots fill in around us, and I let myself get pulled into various conversations. But my attention is never far from Hannah.

I’m swallowing my last bite of cookie when Brandon starts coughing.

It doesn’t sound like he’s choking exactly, but he’s definitely having an issue.

Hannah turns, like she might pat him on the back, and I dart my foot forward, hooking hers.

Her eyes snap over, and I narrow mine at her.

If she touches him, I’m going to fire him. It’s that simple.