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“Don’t we?” She squeezed his arm gently, and he looked down at her hand, marveling at the touch. She had left it there for minutes now; it still didn’t bother him. In fact, it had bothered him more when she had moved her hand.
“Yeah, but I think she was implying something more.” He looked over at her, but for once, she wouldn’t meet his eye.
“Would that be such a bad thing?” she asked quietly.
A shiver rolled through him. Not an uncomfortable one, but a feeling that made him know she had been thinking about their relationship too. But he couldn’t give her false hope.
“W-we work together.”
She stopped walking. “So? People who work together can have relationships. Some of the best relationships come out of offices. Adults go to work, home, maybe the gym or the store, but there’s not a lot of options for meeting people unless you’re intentional. Who cares how you meet if it feels right?”
A charged moment passed as they stared at each other, and he silently wondered if her words held a different meaning.
He had as much experience with women as he did with touching people. “I’m not fit for any kind of relationship.”
She frowned and stared at the sidewalk. “I think you should reprogram how you think about that.”
He was about to protest that thought, but as always, she changed the subject. “Guess how many types of skin tones there are in the world?” she asked.
Numbly, he called out a number, and she went into some spiel about how there were infinite shades. For once, he couldn’t focus on a thing she said as she rambled on. His mind was still reeling over what she had implied. Could he really overcome his touch sensitivity enough to have a relationship?
At the end of the workday, Hannah quickly packed up her things, much to his chagrin. A blood-bank event had invited her to paint again, and she had jumped at the opportunity.
“Have a good night,” she said, spinning around to give him one last winning smile.
Disappointment stabbed at his gut. Usually, they didn’t just leave when it was quitting time. They lingered in the parking lot, talking, or they caravanned to Annie and Jack’s to take Ginger and Snaps for a walk. But today, there was nothing to look forward to.
“Wait, Hannah,” he called when she grabbed the door handle. “Do you need help?” He nodded to her hand. “Will you be okay... with your hand still recovering?”
She flashed him a smile. “It only hurts after I see the doctor. Plus, I don’t paint with this hand, usually.”
He frowned. “Well, don’t spill any paint on any unsuspecting guys.”
Her grin widened, and she shot him a wink. “Only on you, sir.”
His heart fluttered. He opened his mouth to say something that would stall her, but she was gone before he could work up the courage. His feelings were developing into a full-blown crush. When she wasn’t around, all he could think about were what plans he could make with Hannah in the future. Work and walking dogs simply wasn’t enough.
A knock sounded on the door, and he looked up hopefully, only to collapse back against his chair.
It was Brandy.
“Enter.”
She came into the little office and closed the door behind her. Usually, she stood at the door.
He raised an eyebrow. “What can I do for you?” he asked, turning back to his computer screen. There were bills to be paid, and he was going to bury himself in work until he was sure Hannah’s event was over. And then... he wasn’t sure what to do. Ask her to hang out? Could he even maintain a real relationship? Holding hands twice and linking arms once hardly constituted a benchmark for whether he could handle one.
“Jason?”
He looked up, realizing he hadn’t been listening one bit. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
She gave a patient smile. “I just wanted to apologize... about earlier.”
He raised a brow. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
“No, I think I do. I was too nosy for my own good. I just... can’t help cheering the two of you along.”
Heat rushed to his cheeks. “We’re just friends.”
