“Aren’t you spending a lot of time with Nick for his therapy?”
“Yeah, even more now that he found out he has to recertify in two months. We’ve bumped his sessions up from twice a week to four.”
She nods as if this confirms something to her. “Has he made a move on you at all?”
I lower my hands. “No, but I’m pretty sure that’s because Graham would throttle him. Then Liam would finish him off.”
Another giggle. “Oh, the mental picture.”
“But I think we came close to kissing this morning.”
She gasps. “Way to save the best for last!”
I groan. “It was more like an almost, almost kiss.”
“What does that mean?”
I’ll give her the short version. “He fell over on the floor. I wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt his shoulder and somehow wound up caressing his jaw. But I pulled away as soon as I realized what I was doing.”
“How did he react?” She leans in as if this is the biggest gossip of the day, which I find hard to believe, considering some of the stuff she’s seen or overheard running her inn.
“He grabbed my hand and held it to his chest.”
“Hmm, anything else?”
I close my eyes, lost in the memory. “He said my name.”
“That’s it?”
I cover my face and nod. I can’t bear to see her face as I say, “But it’s the way he said it. Like he longed for me.”
Madi makes this odd sound like a hiccup. Or an elongated sigh. “That doesn’t sound like a guy looking to make you his next conquest.”
“Maybe.” I drop my hands between my knees as I look at her. “But I’m afraid of getting hurt again.”
“Of course you are, Han. We all are. We’re a bunch of walking, talking, hurting human beings trying to do the best wecan every day. But what if Nick’s actually a great guy, and he just hasn’t found the right person?”
Right now, that idea feels way too risky but deep in my heart, I want that to be true of Nick more than anything.
CHAPTER 17
Nick
“There you go, Bandit.” I lay him down in the makeshift playpen I created with my dining room chairs and the couch cushions. So far, taking him out to go to the bathroom—or to ‘toilet,’ as Pete called it—hasn’t been as difficult as I expected. Using a towel as a sling, like Hannah showed me, worked perfectly for the most part. Let’s just say this towel won’t be going back into my linen closet.
Speaking of Hannah… I check the time. She left hours ago. Guess I thought she’d return by now. Maybe that moment between us on the floor affected her as much as it did me. Only I didn’t have the desire to bolt afterward like she did.
In the past, that would have been me—bolting the moment things appeared to have the potential to get serious. Don’t get me wrong. I respect women. And contrary to what some may think of my dating history, I never took intimacy lightly. Most likely why I haven’t seriously dated anyone because I haven’t felt ready for that level of commitment.
I just have trouble trusting people. And I recognize that some of that results from the way my parents raised me. Their profession tended to make them hyper-vigilant at times. Plus,they seemed more pleased with me when I performed according to their expectations.
So, when I’m dating a woman who seems intent on getting to know me better, I get suspicious. But maybe part of that comes from dating the wrong kind of women—something I’m recognizing since spending all this time with Hannah.
She’s so different from the women I’ve dated in the past. First of all, she’s gutsy as all get out. Most of the women I dated seemed in constant need of attention…or saving. Probably comes with my profession. One woman I dated wanted to know if I was ‘invested.’ When I told her the only thing Iinvestedin was my stock portfolio, she picked up her purse and left in the middle of the date.
But I’m realizing how much I appreciate Hannah’s self-confidence, like her determination to help Bandit, even at the risk of her own welfare. If I ever run into that Marcus dude, I’ll make sure he’s marked with my rendition of graffiti—fist-shaped.
I check my phone again for any missed texts. One from my mother stops me in the middle of my living room.
