until later. Right now, she had an interview to ace. It was extremely unsettling to realise that for all her hesitation, she kind of wanted this job. God, it would be good to do something that challenged her, instead of challenging her patience and lower back, for a change. Something that actually played to her strengths.
Now she just had to get the damn job. If she could.
The suspense of not knowing how this interview would end was already killing her. She was practically sweating her knickers off. Nathaniel Davis with his cool eyes and his cooler attitude could meander all he liked, but Hannah Kabbah was anxious, impatient, slightly obsessive, and definitely in need of some efficiency.
“I’m just going to be upfront,” she said. “I know you need a live-in nanny. I, theoretically, could be a live-in nanny. But there are several pertinent facts that I should bring to your attention.”
He arched a brow. “Pertinent facts?”
Oh dear. She was doing the thing. The talk like a lawyer in a TV drama because I’m absolutely shitting myself thing. “Well, you may be aware that I have a… slightly unsavoury reputation in Ravenswood.”
Nate nodded, amusement written all over his face. “So do I. Maybe that’s why I called you.”
She glared. “That is not why you called me.”
“It’s not?”
“No. You called me because you were desperate and because your brother likes me.”
“Oh, so you know that he’s plotting to seduce you? That’s good. I was wondering how to warn you about it without sounding like something out of a bad novel.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Zach was a lovely man, but he had the biggest mouth on planet earth. Hannah ignored her burning cheeks and said sharply, “You don’t need to worry about that. Your brother’s delusions are irrelevant.”
“See, that’s what I’ve been saying my whole life, but no-one listens.”
“Moving on,” Hannah said firmly. “I have decided to inform you that I suffer from depression, and if that fazes you in any way, we should likely end this discussion here.”
Nate blinked. Finally, she’d managed to get that irritatingly slow, annoyingly sexy grin off his face. That was Hannah; an expert in wiping away smiles.
She held her breath and distracted herself from the mounting tension by examining the iridescent rainbow of her own feelings. Each shining shade represented an odd and usually inappropriate emotion.
Hannah’s emotions, she had come to accept, were often inappropriate.
There was, of course, worry, a bilious green. Her lifelong companion and greatest annoyance, the one feeling that would never, ever leave. Worry was a bitch, but it was a bitch that Hannah knew well.
Next in the rainbow came puce, preemptive relief. Hannah realised with a jolt that part of her was hoping Nate would stop things here. That he’d count her out because she was, as people loved to put it, mentally unstable. That he’d think unbelievably common blips in brain chemistry made her some kind of separate species, and would therefore keep her away from his kids.
Hannah’s depression had started when she was just a kid herself. She wondered how many parents without mental health experiences of their own thought to watch out for warning signs in their children. Hannah would watch, of course. And she would know. But people didn’t tend to care about things like that.
Her next emotion, vivid scarlet, was resentment. Resentment that she felt the need to even disclose this information; resentment that it could bar her from a job she knew herself capable of, a job she’d always excelled at, a job she suddenly realised she really fucking wanted.
Beside resentment was bright orange rage, mostly directed at herself, because all of Ravenswood had called her crazy after she was arrested, but Hannah had been the one who’d publicly snapped in a fit of irritation that yes, she was crazy, had been for a while, and didn’t give a shit.
She’d been younger then, in more ways than one.
There was self-doubt, pale and pink and private like the inside of a stranger’s mouth. You shouldn’t have said anything. There’s a difference between refusing to feel shame and setting yourself up for a fall.
She was used to ignoring self-doubt. It was rather prejudiced, and a bit of a bore. If she held an emotional tea party, self-doubt would eat all the scones and call Hannah fat if she complained.
Finally, she found a familiar grey shade in her colour wheel. Disappointment. Because, during a youthful and hopeful and effervescent time in Hannah’s life, Nate Davis had been the epitome of