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“Every once and a while. It helps clear my head.”
She eyed him a second, the
n took a seat. He joined her, and lifted his arm to rest it along the back of the bench and said, “Before I get accused of assault again, this isn’t a come on. I just want to get comfortable.”
Hannah blushed slightly. “It wasn’t assault. Not exactly,” she admitted sheepishly, then let out a long breath. “This week just gets better and better.”
“Care to share?” he pressed.
“Not with you.”
“That hurts.” He was being facetious. But he lied. It did hurt.
“I’m sure it does,” she retorted waspishly. “Your ego. It’s the most precious commodity in your arsenal.” Before he could get riled, she groaned, lifted her hands and covered her face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing that.”
Neither did he. “Because something’s on your mind, and rather than deal with it or discuss it with someone who gives a damn, you’d prefer to avoid the issue. It’s called denial.”
She shot him a look. “Since when were you a shrink?”
He just grinned back at her in a way that displayed all his pearly whites. “Since I minored in psychology.”
“You totally did not.”
“Totally did.”
Her frown had his grin widening. “When?” She asked a little too seriously.
“When I was at college, silly.” He turned his head and looked out onto the vista before him. It was his turn to sigh. This time, it wasn’t at their conversation, but at the beauty he was looking at. “I never get tired of this place.”
She turned to look out at the sunset. “It seems like a lifetime since I did something so simple as watch a sunset.”
“With all the beaches down there, you have no reason to ignore the sun. The Sunshine State is not amused.”
“I’m too busy to go to the beach.”
Her admission had James’ brows lowering. “You weren’t bullshitting earlier about how great your job is?”
Her huff had him hiding a laugh. “No. I was not. I never oversell.”
Scoffing back at her, “Now that is BS.”
“It isn’t,” she told him earnestly, sending him an agitated look. Her hands folded around the edge of the bench, and as he watched, her knuckles turned white. “I-I’m… It’s too much. I’m doing too well.”
His brows rose. That was the first time he’d ever heard that complaint.
But hell, maybe it was a day for firsts.
“Too well?” he prompted when she fell silent.
Her nod was tight, as was the gulp that followed it. “I-I thought I could handle it, and for a long time, I could, but then I got another client, and now it’s just too much.”
Because this was the last thing he’d expected to hear from her—hell, he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this—he shuffled in his seat. In a world where success was the meter by which everyone lived, she was doing great. Just not that great.
Uncertain of how he could help, he attempted, “Have you tried scaling back?”
“I can’t. They won’t let me, and if I was in their shoes, I wouldn’t either.” She blew out a breath which had her bangs flying out of control, before they fluttered back down and settled across her face. “A victim of my own success.” She peeked at him from under strawberry blond lashes. “Sounds like a joke, doesn’t it? I mean, seriously. Who complains about this kind of crap?”
“People who are overwhelmed,” he said softly.
