Her reaction had been well worth the headache from using the interstate during rush-hour on a weeknight: as she saw him enter the store she excused herself from her customers and walked towards him, smiling – and she took the last three or four paces at a slight run. He had never had a woman run – even a few steps – to be with him before: it was exhilarating.
He was completely smitten with Hannah Sorenson, and that should have been enough to have him walking on air. But all the while, the question of William Higgins’s safe deposit box was festering in the back of his mind.
Mark came in from the kitchen carrying two open beer bottles and handed one to Steven. ‘Are you done with the pizza?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ Steven took a mouthful of cold beer and slipped the key back into his shirt pocket.
‘You know, we should start learning how to cook a few things. This Chinese-pizza-peanut butter diet is going to catch up with us someday,’ Mark mused. Steven laughed as he looked across the room at his best friend. Mark, at twenty-eight, was in perfect physical shape. A well-built African-American, he swam several miles every morning with student members of the high school swimming team, and was invariably up for running, biking, or the most gruelling climbs Steven could find for them on weekends. Steven was in good physical condition, but Mark was a natural athlete.
‘Are you kidding? Look at yourself. You’re a specimen; you look like you were constructed by teenage girls during a pyjama party fantasy game.’ Steven grimaced, then added, ‘But I agree: we ought to start thinking about eating better.’
‘After tomorrow night. One last super supreme – with extra everything – tomorrow night. We’ll finish the beer and kick off a trial period of healthy nutrition on Friday. Deal?’ Mark offered a hand to his roommate.
‘Deal. And then on Friday we’ll… I don’t know, we’ll roast some fish or steam some vegetables or something.’ Steven had no idea what was involved in either roasting or steaming.
Apparently, neither did Mark. ‘Do we have a steamer?’
‘No idea. Maybe we can get a book, or find an idiot’s guide to the kitchen website.’
Mark raised his bottle. ‘To roast fish and steamed vegetables.’
Steven returned the toast. He thought for a few seconds, then suggested, ‘Maybe those things are available as take-out from someplace.’
They both laughed, and Mark headed back to the kitchen: if they were seriously planning to improve their eating habits, it would be best not to leave any leftovers before the start of Nutrition Hell was upon them. As he heaped the remains of the pizza onto two plates, he called, ‘You know, you ought to hand that key over to Howard.’
‘I know, but I’m curious. I can’t even concentrate on work any more.’ Steven switched off the television, a boringly one-sided baseball game. ‘I’m closing up for Howard tomorrow night. When he leaves, I’ll find some reason to go into the safe. I’ll grab a quick look and be home in time for our last night of real food: long live fat, sugar and cholesterol.’
Mark walked over and handed him one of the plates. ‘Enjoy it: we’ll miss it when it’s gone. I understand you’re curious. But whatever is in there has been in there for a long time. You still ought to give Howard the key. Let him decide whether or not to open it.’
‘He’ll say no.’
‘He’s the bank manager. Of course he’ll say no.’
‘Damnit!’ Steven took a frustrated bite. ‘One peek and I’ll throw the key in Clear Creek. It’ll be out of my system for ever.’
Mark shook his head. ‘Dead cats. All over town dead cats. I hope it’s a hundred-and-thirty-five-year-old tuna sandwich. That’ll show you crime doesn’t pay.’ Changing the subject, he asked, ‘So, when do I get to meet the lovely Hannah?’
‘We’re climbing Decatur this weekend to get some shots of the aspens. The weather’s turning; it might be our last run up there without snowshoes. You want to come?’
‘Great.’ Mark absentmindedly adjusted the dust jacket on a coffee-table book about Picasso, then said, ‘You’ve been seeing her a lot. She must be something.’
Steven brightened suddenly. ‘I can’t believe it; I’m completely knocked-down-the-road stupid by her. I think about her all the time-’ he corrected himself, ‘well, except for when I’m dwelling on that miserable safe deposit box.’ He added, ‘I can’t get her out of my head. I’ve never felt like this before and I’m sure I’m going to blow it – maybe hit her with my car, or catch her hair on fire with a flame-thrower, or something like that.’
Mark chuckled. ‘I can’t wait to meet her. If you do happen to see a flame-thrower lying around here, remember: flame-throwers don’t kill people. People kill people.’
Several hours later, Steven was still awake and needing to talk to Hannah. He was worried about waking her, but at last he ventured a call.
‘No, I’m still awake,’ she told him. ‘I’ve missed you these past twenty hours – this is silly. It’s like I’m back in school.’
‘Yeah, I don’t mind, though.’ He took a risk, and added, ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this… I don’t know, maybe never.’
Hannah’s voice dropped slightly. ‘Me too… I wish I could see you, just for a minute, just to say good night properly.’
‘I’ll be there in forty minutes,’ Steven said.
‘We could meet halfway, say, the diner in Golden?’ she suggested, not knowing whether Steven was serious.
‘I’ll be there in twenty minutes,’ he said, and hung up.
It was after midnight when Steven crossed the parking lot to her car. Hannah was standing next to it drinking from a Styrofoam cup. The light from inside the diner gave her skin a warm, surreal glow. She was wearing old jeans, running shoes and a navy blue sweatshirt. Her hair hung over one shoulder like it had the day they met.
He hugged her close and bent slightly to catch the lilac aroma that scented her hair, then tilted her chin up and pressed his lips against hers. She fell into the kiss, her tongue teasing his as he probed the deepest recesses of her silken mouth. He ached for her; as he reached to caress the nape of her neck his hand brushed her breast and even beneath her sweatshirt he felt her nipple tauten.
Still kissing him, Hannah took his hand and moved it back to her breast as she stroked down his chest to his thighs. Steven pressed harder into her, backing her up against the car door.
She moaned softly and ground her hips into his. Steven thought he might explode, right then and there in the diner parking lot. When Hannah slid her hand between his legs, he backed away far enough to say, ‘You’ll need to check the morning paper.’
‘What? What are you- Why?’ Hannah wasn’t paying much attention.
‘Tomorrow’s paper,’ he said again, ‘just check it to be sure I make it home all right.’
‘Why is that?’ She returned to his mouth, licking his lips salaciously before kissing him hard again.
‘Because I fully expect to crash my car before getting anywhere near the highway.’
At that, Hannah laughed, an embarrassed, blustery chuckle that filled Steven’s heart.
He laughed too, and Hannah released him.
Sliding her hands into the back pockets of his jeans, she pouted, ‘All right, if I have to stop.’
‘I think it’s for the best. I’d hate to overhear the paramedics in the ambulance discussing the suspicious wet spot on the front of my jeans – Jesus, what would they tell my mother? “Uh, yes, Mrs Taylor, he was wearing underwear, but they were soiled… uh, no ma’am, the other side.” Good thing I’d be beyond caring; I’d never live that down!’
Hannah laughed out loud and pushed him away playfully. ‘Go on, silly. But this weekend, we’ll continue from where we left off, and no excuses.’ She growled softly. ‘It’ll be worth your while, soldier.’