Page 148 of Waiting Game

“What?”

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

I roll my eyes at him—I do that a lot—then eat before I bombard him with questions about the book.

“I’m not going to tell you how it ends.” He gasps, his tone horrified. “That would spoil it!”

“But I’m asking for spoilers!”

“I don’t care. I don’t do spoilers and neither should you.” He shoves the sandwich at me, making me realize that I left half. “You want that?”

I nod.

“Then eat it before I do.”

“You could buy your own,” I grumble, holding the sandwich in my hands like it’s lost treasure.

“Where’d be the fun in that?”

He grins at me as I take a big bite then tries to steal my coffee. It’d be rude not to lick the opening.

Of course, it has the opposite effect—his eyes darken.

“You think some spit is gonna stop me? Shared more than that with you, baby.”

“Stop stealing my food!” I snipe, peering around the cafeteria to make sure no one is listening in.

He smiles once he notices what I’m doing then settles back in his seat. “You thought about my offer?”

“And we were having such a wonderful conversation too!”

Cole sighs, but his expression is sheepish as he scratches his jaw. “When we start dating publicly?—”

“If,” I correct.

“Whenwe start dating, it’ll be a PR nightmare if someone catches you on that site, baby.”

His tone is soothing, but it still agitates me.

“I have to work.”

“I know you do, and I support that wholeheartedly.”

“I won’t let you pay my bills! It was different before. I was earning market value for my services and as much as I love talking to you twice a day, I’m not going to charge you for it.”

“But I’ll?—”

“No! It cheapens what we have and that’s the last thing I want. You can’t just cover my bills. My debts are too big. Itwouldn’t be fair on you. And, no, I’m not charging fourteen grand for figure-skating lessons either.”

He scrubs his hand over his head. “I’m not sure what to do, Mia.”

“I have enough to cover me for a couple months. I don’t have to do anything yet,” is my calm retort.

“Yeah, I guess.”

I know he’s not happy about it, and I get it.

I grab his hand. “This is my problem. Not yours.”

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