Page 4 of Hate To Love You
“Need some help there?”
Liam ignores that. “—and password, then click—urgh!—the ‘clock in’ button, and—”
Teague leans in closer. “Seems like you could use my help.”
“I’ve got it.” Liam grimaces uncomfortably as his fingers hunt for the Ethernet port. He keeps feeling what seems to bewhere the phone line used to go right next to an unused USB port. He reaches even further, causing himself to grunt deeply.
Teague’s voice somehow grows closer to Liam’s ear. “You look like you’re either frustrated or about to take a poop.”
“I said I’ve got it.”
“I can help, y’know. I have long arms. I’m flexible. And I’m—”
Liam at last finds the port. The cable clicks into place. Then he stands up straight.
Only to find his face right in front of Teague’s.
The two stare at each other, eyes inches apart, frozen in place.
Liam never realized how captivating Teague’s eyes are.
Syrupy brown and strangely deep. With just a glance into his eyes, Liam forgets who Teague is, feeling like he’s peering into the soul of a lifelong friend, someone he’s known since the days before anything made sense. His smooth, peachy skin flushes naturally at the tops of his high-set cheeks, as if he always just ran a long way to wherever he is, flames of virile youth and limitless energy. And his ashy brown hair goes all over the place, but it seems cute and intentional. The way Teague’s nostrils flare with each breath this close up gives him an unanticipated intensity that’s made all the more intense by the obscenely close proximity of their faces.
It’s all so much at once.
Liam can’t even draw a breath at first.
It gives Teague a moment to give one of his slow-motion, disarming smiles. His lips are slightly wide for his face and do something funny when they become a smile, but it gives him an excessively adorable and friendly air, dangerously strengthened by the dimple that appears.
Teague’s forehead wrinkles up sweetly as he lifts an eyebrow. “Finally got it in the hole?”
His voice is breathy and suggestive.
Liam snaps out of it and frowns. “Don’t make dirty jokes.”
“What’s dirty about putting things into holes?”
“Teague, you’re in my space.”
“Maybeyou’rethe one being dirty.”
“I’m serious.”
“When did you get braces, by the way? They’re adorable.”
Liam didn’t realize they were showing. He clamps shut his mouth, his face burning red. Then he shoulders Teague out of the way as he turns back to the computer, tries clocking in one more time, and is successful at last. “She’s all yours,” mutters Liam, tightlipped, before yanking his apron off of the nearby hook and leaving Teague alone at the computer.
Until: “But you didn’t tell me how to clock in.”
Liam stops at the set of swinging doors. “Yes, I did. You just weren’t listening.”
“Employee ID and password? I don’t have either of those.”
Liam whips around. “What do you mean? It’s the first thing you’re given when you’re hired.”
Teague shrugs, looking like a dopey, helpless kid.
Liam could easily push through these swinging doors, ignore Teague’s plight, and resume the task he left before his break. Can’t this former high school heart throb figure any of this out himself?
