Page 12 of Captured Heart

“I’m not most people.” I lean a fraction closer and lower my voice as if I’m sharing a secret meant for her ears only. “And Katie suits you better. You look like a Katie.”

“Ah, you’re flipping the script on me, but you can’t just say that.” Her eyebrows lift, her mouth twitching as if she’s suppressing a grin. “I know what I meant when I said you look like an Alex. What do you mean?”

“I mean...you look like someone who smiles too much to be a Kate.”

And with just those few words, all the suspicion she felt a minute ago dissipates. A wide smile takes over her face, cute enough to be disarming. My chest contracts slightly. It’s a very unusual feeling, but I chalk it down to the fact that I haven’t been this close to a female in almost five years.

“Touché.” She does a little head bow. “Well, I’d better be off. I still have to proofread one of my assignments before I submit it.”

“Sounds like a riveting night you have planned.”

“Soriveting,” she replies dryly. “Not everyone gets to be as glamorous as you, rescuing damsels in distress in gym parking lots.”

I tilt my head. “Glamorous? You think this is glamorous?”

“Of course.” She shrugs. “Getting all greased up and elbow-deep in a car engine? You’re basically a knight in shining armor.”

“There’s no grease, and trust me, I’m no knight.”

My abrupt dismissal of the title makes her eyebrows crease together, and she quickly wipes the smile off her face, feigning indignation onmybehalf.

“You know what? You’re right. Knights are overrated, anyway. I’m sure all that armor made them slow and bulky, so how many damsels did they actually save? And how much horsepower did any given knight have? Like...one?” A gigglesputters out of her, but she stops it midway and pretends to be serious again. “It’s an insult to call you a knight because they were basically the original check engine light.”

It’s so corny I almost grin. Almost. She finds it hilarious, though. Laughter bubbles out of her like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever said.

The way her nose crinkles when she laughs is so annoyingly endearing, and I catch myself noticing how she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear when she shifts her weight. Everything about her is simple and unguarded, and it makes the guilt crawl a little higher up my throat. She shouldn’t be laughing or making jokes. Not with me.

And worse still, I shouldn’t be doing these things with her either.

“Did you see what I did there?” she snickers.

“I did.”

“It was an engine joke because—”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“And still nothing?” She narrows her eyes, trying to make sure that my face really hasn’t changed. “I don’t know anything about cars, so I thought that would earn me some extra points.”

“The poor quality of the joke negates any points you may have earned.”

“Well...” she sighs. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“That analogy is kinda out of context.”

“I was...trying to tie it to...to the horses and knights, and—” She shrugs as if she’s giving up. “Never mind. I’m clearly not going to crack you.”

It’s that slight huff of fake exasperation, that tiny titter of embarrassment, that almost pulls a small smile from me. Not because of the bad jokes. Because she’s...cute. Goofy. A little awkward. But undeniably...cute.

She moves to the driver’s door again and has to use quite a bit of force to yank it open.

“You should get that fixed,” I say when it looks like she might lose the struggle against her stubborn door.

Her eyes roll, but she takes it in jest. “Gee, thanks for the advice. If it weren’t for you, I never would’ve noticed.” She slides into the seat and sticks her head out the window to look at me. “What’s your plan for tonight?”

“I’m going to go home and rethink my life choices.”

Those pretty brown eyes dance with amusement, but she stops short of a giggle because my face remains expressionless. She’s not sure if I’m joking or being dead serious. This small interaction with her has pushed me more toward the latter.

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