Page 62 of The Even Odder Couple

Get out of there, Spencer.

“I like Kayla.” I shrug. “She’s nice.”

He straightens, still studying me. “And what do you think of Clive? Is he … nice?”

“Clive?” I squawk. “What are you talking about?”

Spencer takes a beat, rubs his chin. I want to press my finger to his dimple. Or my lips or—

“It’s just that I thought I saw something there,” he says. “Between you and Clive.”

“Maybe in your imagination. Which is weird. You imagining us.” I scoff, taking the protest further.You’re really nailing it now, Tess.

“But.” Spencer takes another beat. “He’s so … Colin Firth.”

I cough out a laugh. “Newsflash: Colin Firth is not an adjective.”

“Okay. He’s ColinFirthy.”

A giggle swells up in me. “Firthy? You can’t just add a y to the end of some actor’s name and make it an official word.”

“Except I just did.”

“And yet.” I splay my hands. “Still a pass.”

“Oh, come on. The guy couldn’t take his eyes off of you last night. He cooks lasagna. And he’s got an accent.” Spencer holds up the sink nozzle. “If you lie, you get the hose.”

I fist both hands at my hips. “I’m. Not. Lying.”

“You’re telling me you’re not interested in Clive? Not even a little bit?”

“That’s what I’m telling you.”

“Hmm.” Spencer narrows his eyes. “Yeah. No. Sorry, Mess. I don’t believe it.”

I shrug. “Convincing you is not my job.”

“I think you just haven’t found the right man yet. Like the fortune said. You’ve been looking for love in all the wrong places.” Spencer’s voice is low and rumbling. A fluttering begins in my chest. I should stop this cold, before I get too hot.

“I’m not looking for anything,” I say. “Anywhere. Ever.”

“Right.” Spencer shifts his jaw. And that’s when the side door to the kitchen bangs open, and Colin Firthy Clive comes strolling in.

“Good morning, friends.” He breaks into a wide grin. “I didn’t realize I’d have company while I made breakfast.” He crosses the kitchen and begins to unlock the pantry. Then he looks over his shoulder. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Spencer clears his throat. “I was just about to leave,” he says. The words sound gruff. Like a landslide. “I’ve just gotta wash these last couple of sticks. Then I’ll be out of your way, Colin.”

“It’s Clive.”

“Either way.”

“No really. I’m Clive.”

“Gotcha.”

“Hey,Clive.” I step forward. “As long as you’ve got the pantry open, I’ll just grab a granola bar and head to the office.”

“Hold on.” Spencer catches me by the elbow. Even through my sweatshirt, a shock of electricity races up my arm.

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