Page 90 of We Met Like This
“Thank you,” I said to the front desk lady.
“Did you get a good tip?” she asked.
“The best,” I said, thinking about that warm, sweaty hug.
“Have a good day, Oliver,” she said as I pushed open the door.
“You too,” he responded.
I slowed my walk so he could catch up and steered us toward my car. We passed his on the way and he deposited his duffel bag in the trunk.
“Welcome to my car,” I said when we arrived. “I know you’ve met her before, but you didn’t get a proper introduction due to the whole, you know…”
“Crying thing?” he asked.
I smiled. “Exactly. Anyway, this is Persephone.” I opened the passenger door for him.
“Persephone?”
“Yes, I’ve always been dramatic. She’s been with me foreleven of her thirteen years of life and, despite her namesake’s ties to the underworld, she’s never done me dirty.”
“You got her when you were sixteen?”
“I did.”
He pointed to the door I was still holding open. “Are you wanting me to sit in the car?”
“Yes. You must sit and relax with your coffee for a few minutes. You and your muscles have earned it.”
I shut the door after he climbed in and walked around to the other side. Once sitting down, I set my phone on the center console and gathered the drink from the cup holder, presenting it to him like a prize. “Since you wouldn’t let me pay you for the website, I have to pretend like this is more valuable than it is.”
“It’s priceless,” he said.
I waited eagerly while he took his first sip. He tested it like a glass of wine on a vineyard tour. “Did you hear me order at the coffee shop?”
“I didn’t. I’m just that good.”
When he didn’t seem to buy that explanation, I said, “I’ve been someone’s assistant for four years. I’ve seen a lot of drinks. Plus, I saw a couple of the letters they wrote on your cup.” I admitted.
He laughed. “You pay attention.” His eyes drifted to the gym. “Really pay attention.”
“You told me your schedule. And you’re a schedule guy. Like my sister. Remember? I knew you’d be here.”
“Right, like your sister. Predictable,” he muttered. “Where’s yours?”
“My schedule? You know I don’t have one of those. Organized chaos.”
“No, where’s your coffee?”
“If I got one for myself yours wouldn’t seem so special.”
He chuckled.
I swallowed, not sure how to tell him what I wanted to tell him.I like youseemed too flippant. I didn’t want him to think I was just telling him because I wanted to sleep with him. Because even though I really really wanted that, I wanted other things more—his calming presence, his contagious laugh, his cheesy jokes… him.
The timer on my phone screen caught his attention. Fourteen minutes and thirty-four, thirty-three, thirty-two… “Am I on the clock?”
“Sorry, I have clothes in the dryer as we speak.” I had moved them over right before I came, wishing I hadn’t discovered my feelings for OliverafterI’d started the washing machine. “Fourteen more minutes before I become the annoying person who leaves clothes in the communal laundry.”
