Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,151

his family for years, in a small town sort of way, they were technically almost strangers. People didn’t take chances with their children. And she appreciated the caution. “I thought they seemed lovely, and I’m happy to meet them again.”

He nodded. “Cool. Maybe tomorrow, if you’re not busy. I don’t want to rush you.”

“But things are time-sensitive,” she said. “Tomorrow is fine.”

He smiled, and she thought she spied a little relief on that annoyingly handsome face. But it came and went so quickly, it might as well have been a mirage. “Cool. I do have a question for you, though.”

Her heart, which had been feeling remarkably light, for once, fell. He looked very serious all of a sudden. “Oh. Okay. Well… go for it.” Please don’t. Please give me the job and leave me be and never question me about anything ever. I know that may sound unreasonable, but I think you’ll get used to it over time.

“I already knew you fucked up Daniel’s car,” he said, “but what I don’t know is why.” His eyes were steady on hers, and they almost seemed soft. Gentle. But that was probably some sort of illusion. “Would you tell me?” he asked. Which was a bit of a plot twist. He had her in the palm of his hand, after all. He’d dangled a job in front of her before asking this. He could’ve just demanded an answer.

Hannah should be suspicious of his motives. She should see his careful phrasing as a front, a sly attempt to seem friendly while tearing open barely-healed wounds. But she was used to hunting out that vicious gleam in peoples’ eyes. Sometimes, she was so eager to see it, she might even imagine a glint that wasn’t there. So if there had been a hint of cruelty around Nate right now, she would’ve seen it. She would’ve.

She didn’t.

All she saw was an irritatingly attractive—but otherwise perfectly reasonable—man watching her with the same sweet reassurance he’d watched his kids with just a couple of a days ago.

So she answered. For the first time ever, actually. She answered.

“He hurt my sister,” she said slowly. “I think everyone knows that, now. He hurt my sister, and I was angry. But I reacted the way I did—so recklessly—because I was angry at myself, too. He hurt her, and I didn’t even notice. Years, he was fucking with her head. And in the end, she had to tell me. But what if she hadn’t? What if she couldn’t bring herself to say it? What if she’d…”

Nate reached across the table and took Hannah’s hand, just as her voice wavered. She looked down sharply, and the sight of someone touching her—touching her like that, to give comfort—was so strange, she almost felt… dizzy? But that couldn’t be right. She was getting overemotional again. What was going on with her right now? She could barely bring herself to look at Nate, she was suddenly so embarrassed—but she couldn’t let him know that, so she looked up anyway, her expression as blank as she could make it.

She certainly wasn’t ready for the look on his face. For the way his dark brows were drawn together, for the worry in his eyes or the kindness in his voice when he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have asked. I didn’t know.”

Hannah gave a tight shrug and pulled her hand away, mostly because she still felt dizzy. Maybe it was a blood sugar thing. She took another sip of lemonade, and a moment of silence passed.

Then Nate leaned back, his posture casual, arms resting on the back of the booth in that way men had—always taking up space. Usually, it irritated her. But right now, the way his T-shirt stretched across his broad chest was distracting her from annoyance.

“You know,” he said, his tone lighter, “you haven’t asked about pay yet.”

“Oh. Well.” Hannah cleared her throat and pulled herself together. “I require the equivalent of at least nine pounds an hour. Which is quite reasonable, I think. And you seem a reasonable sort.”

He barked out a laugh. “Ah, I see. So, you tell me what I’m paying?”

“Evidently. Can you manage it?”

Nate pretended to think for a moment, cocking his head dramatically. Finally, though, he said, “Sure. I can manage that. Might even throw in some benefits.”

And that was the moment Hannah realised she was a terrible, wicked, and ungodly woman. Because when he said benefits, she thought of something other than the friendly