Page 18 of Sick of You

“You.” My tone was completely flat. “On my way out, sorry.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. I hadwaytoo much food Delivrd.”

He had to know he couldn’t buy my compliance like he did everything else. Then again, if he was as rich as the Internet claimed, he likely didn’t grasp the concept of something not being for sale. I’d already seen how people bent the rules to make him happy without him asking; I couldn’t be surprised if he didn’t understand the concept of rules.

Yet another reason I shouldn’t work with him.

“I’m sure you can find a nice unsheltered person to share with.” I slung my bag over my shoulder, still refusing to look at him.

“Have you had Federal Donuts?” The bag crinkled as he presumably started unloading.

I tripped halfway to the door. That was Philly’s best donut chain. “Oh,” I said lightly, “I need something more substantial for dinner. And there’s no food in here.”

“I’ve never had cheese on a fried chicken sandwich before,” Davis commented.

I turned around to find—sure enough—Davis Freaking Hardcastle breaking the rules. I didn’t know what looked more delicious: the crispy fried chicken sandwich in his hand or his white button-down shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal well defined forearms.

That didn’t matter. We had rules here for a reason. I strode back to him, took the chicken sandwich from his hand, and stuffed it back in its wrapper and its bag. “There is no food in here. Unless you’d like to experiment with the gastrointestinal route for our superbugs.”

He glanced around. “I don’t see any hoods, so I highly doubt you keep any samples in here.”

I paused for half a second. Okay, fine, he knew one vague, quasi technical term.

I realized I still had hold of his Federal Donuts bag and shoved it back at him. “You can’t bribe me into agreeing to this.”

“Sheesh, Dr. Croft. I’m not trying to bribe you; I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

I folded my arms. “Go ahead.”

Davis held up the donuts bag. “I understand there’s no food in here.”

With a groan, I led him down to the break room. “Talk,” I said as soon as we’d arrived.

Davis met my gaze, and the connection shot straight through me, throwing me off balance. He smiled, but there was nothing calculating in his eyes, just friendliness. Somehow, that made him even more charming, even more handsome.

Even more human.

Davis folded his arms, once again distracting me. Did all men know that was catnip?

I was stronger than this. “We’re not discussing the task force.”

“Can we eat first and then set the agenda? I could really use your help.”

I’d told him he couldn’t bribe me to get my compliance, but I hadn’t told him all he had to do was ask for my help.

I couldn’t be won over this easily.

Unless I actually wanted to be.

Clearly my plan was backfiring. Dr. Croft refused to join me at the break room table, opting instead to stand.

I had to at least start a conversation here.

“It’s true, you know,” I said. I began to unpack my order, a ridiculous amount of food for one person: four donuts, two chicken sandwiches, three orders of za’atar fries, and a can of peach-pear sparkling water.

“What is?” Dr. Croft finally took the bait.

“You should not shop when hungry.” I gestured at the food I’d spread out across the table—an invitation to join me. Just in case that wasn’t clear, I added, “Please hear me out.”

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