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‘Hannah?’
I step back, my gaze darting around wildly, trying desperately to remind myself of where I am. Who I am. ‘I’m sorry,’ I wheeze, shaking my head and the memories away. It takes too long for me to gather myself, but when I do, I paint on a lame smile and find Ryan. His head has retracted on his neck, his eyes searching mine. I can’t face the questions in them, so I turn my attention onto Alex to escape. ‘Let me see when you’re finished,’ I chirp, so over the top with enthusiasm.
‘Are you okay?’ she asks, my little meltdown not being missed by her, either. She lifts the canvas from the easel.
‘Yeah.’ Hurrying over to the shelves, I snatch down some tubes of oil paint and a brush, tucking them in a paper bag. ‘Here.’
Her face lights up, and though I’m relieved I’ve diverted her concern, I’m certain I haven’t Ryan’s. ‘Thanks.’ Claiming the bag, Alex looks to her father. I, however, do not, instead tidying the already tidy shelves. ‘Hey, can Hannah come and help us with the bridge. She can paint it.’
I still. What? ‘I’m afraid—’
‘I’m sure she’s got better things to do,’ Ryan interrupts me, and I turn to look at him, unreasonably injured. It doesn’t matter that I was going to make my excuses. But it does matter that Ryan has. And I don’t know why. ‘Go put those things in the truck.’ He nods to his daughter’s full arms without looking at her. ‘I’ll be out in a minute.’
Without question, Alex dances out of my shop, leaving me at the mercy of her father’s raging curiosity. ‘See you, Alex,’ I call as I make my way to the kitchenette out back. I just hear her reply over the sound of me placing a mug on the counter with a thud, and I look to the doorway, waiting for him to come find me.
I flick on the kettle, then fetch milk from the fridge and load my mug with a tea bag and a sugar, all the while getting more and more tense. Ryan’s not left the shop. So where is he? I look at the doorway again, getting myself worked up, knowing he’s out there waiting for me. Waiting to ask if I’m okay. Or maybe waiting to ask what’s wrong.
The sound of my fingers tapping the counter keeps me company until the boiling kettle drowns it out. And when it clicks off, I lift it, the damn thing shaking on its way to the mug. ‘God damn it,’ I mutter, feeling my emotions getting the better of me.
‘Give it here.’ Ryan appears, taking the kettle from my hand, leaving my hands free to rub down my face. ‘What happened in there?’
‘Nothing.’ I move away from him, his closeness making me uncomfortable all of a sudden. And I hate that notion. Because, really, Ryan has never made me feel uncomfortable. Only relaxed. And perhaps that’s why I’ve been so tense, because of how easy it is to be with him. I’m not used to that.
‘Come on, Hannah.’ The kettle hits the counter hard, and I startle, quickly chastising myself for it. ‘Look at you.’
‘I’m. Fine,’ I grate. I’m not angry with him, more at myself for letting something so stupid affect me, especially in front of Ryan. ‘I don’t need interrogating.’ I find the strength I need to look at him. ‘Alex will be wondering where you’ve gotten to.’
His chest heaves on a deep inhale, a sign of him fighting to retain his patience. ‘Have it your way.’ Moving toward the kitchen door, he rolls his shoulders as I watch him go.
‘I will,’ I murmur, not intending for him to hear me. Though he does, and he stops in the doorway abruptly, slowly turning toward me. It’s a standoff, him raking his eyes over every inch of my face, me doing the same to him. And I soften. Because I see worry, and that isn’t something I’m used to seeing on a man. And I feel things, things that are odd but welcome. I feel drawn to him. His weathered face is harsh, but his persona soft. ‘You were leaving,’ I remind him, feeling the atmosphere shift, energy sizzling between us.
He steps forward. And I breathe in. ‘Where did you come from, Hannah?’
I shake my head, his question dulling the electricity, and I so don’t want that. I want all the electricity and none of the questions. ‘Don’t,’ I warn.
‘Don’t what?’ Another step forward, and this time I step back. He stops, alert to my retreat. ‘Ask questions?’ A forward step from him and a reverse step from me. My arse hits the counter, and I reach back to feel it, my head lifting as he gains on me until his chest is touching mine. He breathes down on me. ‘Or don’t kiss you?’
