Expelling the air, she says, “Because boys noticed me early on and they weren’t nice about it. I was scared. So I took efforts to hide myself. I don’t want the attention.”
It’s not working, I think to myself.
“From how early on?” I ask curiously.
“Thirteen.”
Damn. Ten years of hiding her identity. Not that she was hiding it all that well, now that I know what’s there. She’s sort of like Clark Kent. Once you knew he was Superman, it was kind of hard not to recognize him for what he was just because he slicked his hair into a nerdy style and wore big glasses.
“The baggy clothes?” I ask, curious as to just what efforts she put into this concealment.
She nods and drops her gaze from me. I stare down at her, waiting for her to look back at me. She doesn’t, and I’m glad. If she did, I’d probably lean in and kiss her, and that definitely would take stupid to a whole new level.
I drop my hand from her jaw and turn away from her, walking back to the pool table. “You’re not surrounded by thirteen-year-old boys anymore. I like your hair better down, and frankly, you’re really not hiding anything with it like that.”
Grimacing, I bend down to take another shot. Why the fuck did I just say that to her? She probably thinks I’m a nut job.
“I think I’m going to head back to bed now. I’m really tired,” she says quietly.
I don’t turn around to look at her, afraid of what I might see on her face. So instead I just say “Good night,” and I hear the sound of her receding footsteps.
Chapter 10
Kate
I look at myself in the bathroom mirror and I’m torn. To put my hair up or not, that is the question. Certainly not as deep a question as Shakespeare posed in Hamlet, but it’s causing me consternation all the same.
Last night was beyond surreal. I’d taken the opportunity when I heard Zack down in the basement to bring up a touchy subject and, I’d hoped, air it out. When I saw he’d been drinking when I got down there, I had a moment of doubt, but then I saw he seemed to be in a generally mellow mood, and when he invited me to play pool, I couldn’t decline the opening.
He took me by surprise when he told me he wasn’t mad at me for the seat-belt thing. By the tone of his voice, I believed him. And so that left a big unanswered question. One I was afraid to ask.
Why was he being distant with me, then, if not for the thing with the seat belt?
A thought skittered through my mind and it was so ludicrous, I had to immediately discount it. But Sutton’s words kept coming back to haunt me.
Zack couldn’t keep his eyes off of you at the game.
It’s absolutely idiotic to think that he’s attracted to me, right? I mean, if he was attracted to me, he wouldn’t be so aloof. He’d be nicer than usual, right?
Or, my subconscious pipes up, he thinks you’re off-limits because you’re Ben’s nanny and thus he’s making himself be distant with you.
Shaking my head at myself in the mirror¸ I refuse to believe that’s what’s going on. Decision made, I pick up the bobby pins and prepare to wind my hair up and out of the way.
But…what about the fact that he said my hair was beautiful? That he liked it? That he wanted to know why I was hiding it?
Groaning in frustration, I rub the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. Think, Kate, think. What is it you’re hoping to accomplish?
Opening my eyes, I tilt my face up to look at my reflection. Lonely eyes stare back at me and I realize…I want someone to think I’m pretty.
I want Zack to think I’m pretty.
Never in a million years would I imagine someone as gorgeous as him would ever be interested in someone like me, yet I can’t deny the distinct possibility that is exactly what is going on here. Sure, I’ve been in awe of him since I started working here. His star power, magnetism, and stunning good looks make that almost a given. Add on that he’s a loving and devoted father, and you have one sexy man.
A sexy man that I never once considered would look my way until Sutton got me thinking in that direction.
Dropping the pins to the counter, I run my fingers through my hair, tweak my bangs a bit, and start to turn away from the mirror. New decision made. I’m leaving my hair down.
But something halts me.
Something that occurs to me and makes me consider my actions.
Zack is a man who is still grieving for his lost love. He’s a man who still has issues, as evidenced by what happened in the car last week. A woman would be wise not to mess with a man such as him. He still has too much healing to do.
Except…damn it all to hell…what if I’m the person who is supposed to help him heal? I’ve loved taking it upon myself to get him to open up and succumb to my humor and goofiness. It’s nice seeing him smile. What if I’m good for him?