Page 45 of Love is a Game

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Page 45 of Love is a Game

“Thanks. And thanks for paying. First ice cream and now dinner. I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, taking the bags of food from her. He nodded toward her outfit. “I’m a little disappointed you didn’t come in your pajamas. That was a good look on you.”

She scoffed, smiling in spite of herself. “Sure it is. I see you stepped it up today. The button-ups have returned.”

He shrugged. “I’m behind on laundry, had to pull out one of my lawyer shirts.”

She wasn’t sure she believed that. “It looks nice.”

She meant it. As angry as she was when he appeared at her house earlier, the sleek charcoal shirt he wore still caught her eye. Even his jeans were a huge step up from the grungy cargo shorts. They were dark and fit him perfectly. Realizing she was staring, she turned toward the circulation desk to set down her purse and regain her composure.

“I pulled some of the boxes out of the office so we can work out here where there’s more room,” Andrew said, gesturing to one of the library tables. “Don’t worry, I kept them all organized.”

“You’d better have,” she warned, smiling.

She opened up her laptop and the to-go box with her dinner. Andrew sat down across from her with a stack of papers and his own food.

“How long are you planning to be here tonight?” she asked.

“I’m not in any hurry,” he told her. “I promise I won’t kick you out until you’re ready.”

“Great.” The words came as a relief. She was meeting with the acquisitions department the following Tuesday and wanted to get her proposal done as soon as possible.

For the next four hours they barely spoke, both engrossed in their work. Sadie didn’t even notice the sky darkening outside the windows until she looked up from her computer at ten thirty. She was bleary-eyed and tired but relieved to be finished.

“Done?” Andrew asked, watching her as she stood up and stretched.

“Yes, actually.”

She’d collected all the data she would possibly need from the hotel’s records. It would take some time to sort everything into a coherent presentation, but she had all weekend to work on that in the quiet of her Seattle apartment. Right then she was just happy to be done digging through dusty, old papers.

“Thank you so much for letting me stay this long,” she said, taking down her ponytail and shaking her hair out. “I didn’t even realize how late it is.”

“No problem.” Andrew’s voice sounded hoarse and when she looked at him, he practically leaped out of his seat. “I know it’s kind of late,” he went on, “but you’re welcome to stay for a drink if you want.”

She cocked her head at him. “A drink? Do you have a secret bar hiding behind the circulation desk?”

He grinned and gestured for her to follow him. “Not exactly. Don’t tell anyone about this, all right?”

In the corner of his office was a mini-fridge, previously hidden by boxes. Inside were a half-dozen bottles of beer and a few cans of soda.

“That’s convenient,” she said from the doorway.

“Yeah, well . . .” He grabbed two bottles and handed her one. “I spend a lot of my evenings here.”

“Working on your application?”

“Sometimes. Come on, let’s go sit in the YA section.”

She followed him through the stacks to the far corner, then stopped when she saw his reason for taking her there.

“I am not sitting on that,” she told him, eyeing the giant beanbag chair warily.

“Why not? It’s the best seat in the house.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It probably smells like . . . puberty.”

He rolled his eyes. “They’re just teenagers, Sadie. They don’t have cooties. Try it.”




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