I turn, scratching my shoulder. “I’ve got it.”
His brow lifts. “The zipper?”
“Yeah, I can do it myself.” I twist again, and the zipper slides a whole inch lower instead of higher. Frustration manifests in a grimace.
“Uh-huh.” He pushes off the frame, slow and deliberate. “Turn around.”
I hesitate, but my arm is already numb from trying. With a huff, I spin, facing the mirror while he comes up behind me.
His fingers graze the small of my back, warm against my skin as he takes hold of the zipper. He steps close enough that the faintest brush of his breath grazes the back of my neck. How do I explain to my nervous system that this is a mundane action, definitely not worthy of the butterflies in my stomach?
Blue eyes watch me through the mirror as he slowly slides the zipper upward like it was never stuck at all.
“There,” he murmurs, voice low, almost at my ear.
For a second, neither of us moves or looks away, as if an electrical current flows between our stares.
“You look”—he blows out a breath like staring at me is some kind of wonderful torture—“incredible.”
Those eyes. That softness. The raggedness behind his voice. The way he saidincredible.It all changes my brain chemistry,and suddenly, I’m sure no other compliment from a man will ever compare.
“Thanks.” I turn, clutching the front of the dress like armor. “I have a court hearing today. It would’ve been awkward if my dress had been gaping open in the back.”
A smirk tugs at his mouth. “My services are always here. I can zip up or unzip anything you want.”
By the look on his face, I know he means it. “Very funny.”
“You know what else you have today? Marriage counseling.”
“Yeah, I know.” I turn back to the mirror, grabbing my earrings. “I’ll head there straight from court.”
“Is there a plan for today’s appointment?”
“I guess same as last time.”
“I’ll have my notebook ready of all the things I’ve learned about you this past month.”
“Great.” I smile through the mirror, but inside I’m dying.
I’m terrible at emotional stuff.
What if Hess has more to say about me than I do him?
To Abby, it’ll look like he’s the only one trying.
But thisisme trying.
Not everyone is built for relationships, even if the Judge encourages them.
Hess
I rubmy hands down my thighs as I sit outside the marriage counselor’s office. I keep glancing at Camila, thinking I could strike up a conversation, but she barely acknowledges me, just continues to type something out on her phone. I glance at the TV while I wait. The local five o’clock news is on, and they’re recapping sports scores.
After a few seconds, she sits up. “Wait a second. Who is that?”
I’m surprised this has caught her attention since she’s been solely focused on her phone the entire ten minutes we’ve been here.
“That’s Chad Becker. They’re interviewing one of the Diamondbacks players because he hit a walk-off home run.”
