Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,176

of his body beside hers, even before she saw him from the corner of her eye. She shouldn’t know him without looking. But she did.

Nate leaned on the side of Hannah’s trolley, his face perilously close to hers, his breath ghosting over her cheek as he whispered, “What are we staring at?”

“Not staring,” she corrected, her voice equally hushed. “We’re listening.” Her brain had clearly malfunctioned, because it took a whole ten seconds for her to remember that there was no we about it, and a further three to realise that she’d just admitted to eavesdropping. Another three, and she collected her wits enough to scowl at his awful, handsome face and demand, “What on earth are you doing here?”

He’d had a playful glint in his eye, along with a sweet little smile that reminded her of Beth. But at her question he grew sombre—or maybe it was the edge of hard suspicion in her voice that wiped away his cheerfulness. Either way, he released the trolley and stood up straight, until a damned mile of height separated them again.

She’d spoken loud enough to blow her cover, which was fine, because she’d had enough of gossip for one day. When Nate replied, though, he kept his voice low. “I was looking for you.”

“Well, you found me.” She threw the crushed bagels into the trolley. “Which can’t have been hard, since I told you exactly where I’d be.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, wrinkling his nose. “I had to wander through the dairy aisle for a bit, and those fridges are fucking freezing.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Watch your—” his words cut off like brittle wood, that lazy-sexy grin fading. Nate’s pale brow creased in a rather ferocious frown, and he rammed his hands into his pockets. He seemed trapped between two opposing forces, bobbing along on a current of charm only to be tugged into frustration by a riptide.

“Watch my what?” Hannah arched a brow.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He flashed her an expression that was 50% wince, 50% sheepish smile, and 100% adorable.

And you, Hannah Kabbah, must be 100% deranged.

“I came to apologise,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

She stared. “For?”

“I was rude. At the house. I mean, I was in a bad mood, and I worry about you climbing all over the furniture, and—” he shrugged his broad shoulders. Hannah put a tight leash on the sensations that said shoulders inspired in her. “Sorry,” he finished simply. “That’s all. I just wanted to say sorry.”

She continued to stare. Even though she’d been furious, half an hour ago, she was now struggling to remember why. “So… less than an hour after speaking to me in a manner that was slightly less than friendly—”

“It was rude.”

“It was brisk, at worst.”

“It was… curt,” he said grimly.

“Less than an hour after speaking to me rather curtly,” she allowed, “you felt the need to hunt me down in the middle of the supermarket and apologise?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Looks like it.”

She stared at him in silence a moment longer. Just enough to make him nervous, his wide mouth tightening the way it did when Josh and Beth got a little too quiet. Just long enough to get her ridiculous heart, which wanted to melt at his hesitance, under control.

Then she said crisply, “You need a haircut.” And pushed the trolley away.

For a moment, she walked alone, Nate standing behind her as if frozen. But then he jerked into movement, catching up with those long, loping strides. He put a hand on her shoulder, only to snatch it away a second later as if he’d been burned.

Ah, yes. That was why she’d been furious with Nate; because he had the temerity not to want her even though he desired her.

Which, now she considered it, seemed rather unreasonable. On her part, not his.

But also his.

“I’ll do that,” he said, pulling the trolley from her grip—careful not to let their hands touch, she noticed.

“Oh, will you?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Evidently.”

“Are you staying, then?”

“Might as well. Who were you listening to?”

Oh, crap. She’d really hoped they’d move smoothly past that. “No-one,” she lied abominably.

“Okay. What were you listening to?”

“Nothing.”

He squinted down at her as he pushed the trolley. “Hannah. You’re a horrible liar.”

“Take the hint, then.” She paused by the store’s little bakery and grabbed a few plastic bags and a pair of tongs. “Clearly, I don’t want to tell the truth.”

“Which makes me more determined to find out.”

“That shows very poor character.”

“Unsurprising, since I am a man of