her laugh and smile and fucking relax for once, because she so desperately needed it and so obviously couldn’t manage it without encouragement. Extreme encouragement. The kind that was pushy and obnoxious enough to make her feel as though she had to join in, she had to laugh—it wasn’t her fault, she wasn’t being weak, she could blame it all on him.
Yeah, he had her down by now. It had only been—what, two weeks, since she moved in? But he had her down. At least in that regard. The rest of her was still a mystery.
A mystery that was none of his concern. Teaching an employee how to have fun couldn’t be called unethical, but wondering too deeply about her life goals and her hobbies and the things that made her wary… that was heading into dangerous waters.
So when she showed up that night, a blessed distraction from an article that was making his brain vibrate in his skull, Nate kept things upbeat. It wasn’t hard, really. Not once he noticed her feet.
“Jesus, woman.” He winced as she curled up like a kitten beside him. “Are those socks?”
She looked down, as if to check. “I think it’s quite clear that they are.”
“Please tell me you don’t wear socks to bed.”
“Not all the time,” she said. “But usually. I’m surprised you never noticed before.”
It didn’t seem polite to explain that his focus was usually somewhere higher than her feet. “Oh, dear God,” Nate grimaced. He wasn’t even feigning horror, at this point. But really, this was a good thing: he’d found a flaw in a seemingly perfect woman. She wore socks to bed, which was demonic behaviour. He should be happy about it. “Hannah, you do realise that only cursed people sleep in socks. Don’t you?
She rolled her eyes, letting her head fall back against the cushions as she sighed. She always managed to straddle this odd line between stiffness and grace…
And now he was thinking about Hannah straddling. Nate turned his mind to safer things, like the 2D shapes in Josh’s latest homework project.
Ah. Much better.
“So you’re one of those anti-sock people,” she said dryly. “How disappointing.”
“Only at night. Sleeping in socks is unnatural.” His tone was solemn. “It’s okay. I won’t judge. But I will offer help and support in this difficult time.”
“I like socks,” she sniffed. “They make me feel secure.”
“Secure?”
“Feet are very private.”
“The absurdity of that statement aside, why is privacy a concern when you’re in bed?” Nate demanded, with barely-contained laughter colouring his voice.
Her lips twitched, then actually managed to smile. “Privacy is always a concern, Nate.”
She really was unbelievable. And the worst part was, he liked it. Especially right now, when she relaxed and joked while still being her usual buttoned-up self. When she was like this with him, he felt as if he’d done something right—and, strangely, as if he’d gotten a gift in return. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because she was so beautiful, especially when she smiled, and Nate liked looking at beautiful things.
Yep. That was probably it.
“Are you okay?” she asked, and he realised that for the past few seconds he’d actually been staring, in complete silence, at Hannah’s mouth. Fuck, that was weird.
And what did he say, to make it less weird? Why, he said, out of nowhere, “I’m not staring at your mouth.”
Because, really, what was more reasonable and non-threatening and totally unsuspicious than a sentence like that?
She blinked. “Um… oh. I mean—”
“I’m really tired,” he added quickly. “So fucking tired. I was just, you know, staring. At nothing. But your face was in the way of the nothing, so…”
She was still blinking. She looked, in a word, baffled. But then her expression changed, and she said, “It’s fine. I’m used to people looking.”
And now he was baffled. “You’re used to people looking at your mouth?” It was an excellent mouth, to be fair. But he’d have thought most people would have better manners and more functioning brain cells than him.
“At my teeth.”
“Your teeth?” He frowned. “Why would anyone stare at your teeth?”
“Because they’re enormous,” she said slowly. “I’m assuming you noticed. Since we went to school together, so you were there when everyone—”
“Oh, right.”
“—called me Bugs Bunny.” She steamrollered right over his polite attempt to cut the conversation off there. Judging by her narrowed eyes and pursed lips, she wasn’t in the mood for politeness.
“Hannah,” he said, “I wasn’t staring at your teeth.”