Page 8 of Just My Type
Yet my arm is still around her shoulders, and she isn’t doing anything to shake me off. With Jordan and Elliot focused on their girls, and Cooper tossing a computer-shaped dog toy to Killer, laughing when the dog spins around and catches it in her mouth, I take the opportunity to focus on Hannah.
“You okay?” I murmur, turning slightly so I can look at her.
She rolls her eyes, taking a casual sip of her drink. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I shrug, focusing on her still-red rimmed eyes. “Because it looks like you’ve been crying.”
Hannah stiffens, and this time she does push my arm off her shoulder. “I haven’t. I’m fine.”
“Okay,” I say casually. “But if there’s ever a time when you’re not fine, and you need someone to talk to, you know you can talk to me, right?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Have I given you the mistaken impression that I need to be saved or something?” she sucks in a quiet breath, and somehow, I know we’re both thinking of the last time she told me she didn’t need saving.
I grin, trying to lighten the mood a little, find the banter with her I love so much. “Can’t help it, Han. It’s just who I am.”
“An oral surgeon with a savior complex?”
“Doesn’t every doctor have a savior complex? That’s kind of what we live for.”
Hannah gives me a sly smile, and I kind of love it. “I wouldn’t think oral surgeons need a savior complex. It’s not like you’re saving lives. Just teeth.”
I groan, clutching my chest dramatically. “You too? You wound me, Hannah. Do I need to tell you about the time I operated on a woman whose face got mauled by a dog? I may not have saved her life, but I definitely saved her face, and faces are pretty important.”
“Ribbing Noah about being an oral surgeon?” Cooper calls from his spot on the floor with the dog. “You really are part of the family now, Hans.”
If I wasn’t focused so intently on Hannah, I would have missed the flash of pure longing on her face, but since I was focused on her, I saw it perfectly well. I’m not sure exactly why, but the expression makes me understand her a whole lot better than I did five minutes ago.
Hannah is looking for a place.
I think I’m just the person to convince her that her place is right here, with us.
With me, maybe.
A guy can dream, right?
Now, to figure out how to show her exactly where she belongs.
“Don’t,” Hannah hisses.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Uh, I think you’re going to need to be a little more specific. Look at you like what?”
Hannah puts her hands on her hips and locks her gaze with mine. It’s my favorite pose of hers, especially when it’s directedat me. A little exasperated. A little sassy. A lot sexy. “Like you can see inside my head.” She slams her mouth shut like she didn’t mean to say that, but she did say it, and I love it.
“Dinner’s ready,” Elliot calls from the kitchen before I can say anything. Hannah doesn’t move from her spot, her eyes still attached to mine.
“Who says I can’t?” I toss her a wink and grab her hand, pulling her to the dining room table, not hating even a little bit that she follows me, never taking her hand out of mine.
CHAPTER THREE
HANNAH
“Goddammit,” I mutter, pacing my makeshift office, Twizzler in hand, willing my characters to talk to me for the tenth time in what feels like forever, practically stomping my foot like a toddler having a tantrum when my brain won’t make words.
Again.
