Page 9 of The Law of Attraction
“Plenty of young people knit. It’s a very popular hobby. Uma Thurman knits.”
“Uma Thurman is old enough to be a grandmother. She may actually be a grandmother.”
“She’s not even fifty. Anyway, Demi Lovato knits. So does Cara Delevingne. Plenty of men knit too. Ryan Gosling knits, did you know that?”
Adam put his hands up in an exaggerated gesture of surrender. “Okay. Forget I said anything.”
If only that were possible.
They’d been in each other’s company for all of five minutes, and she was already exhausted. How was she going to survive an entire week of this? Interacting with Adam was burning through all her energy reserves.
“I notice they’re not boarding yet,” he pointed out in a self-congratulatory tone.
Christ on a Cheez-It, how had she ever found this smug asshole attractive? “Do you always have to be right about everything?” Olivia asked wearily.
“Do you?”
“Only when I am right.”
He gazed at her, the corner of his mouth curving in what was definitely almost a smile. “Funny, I always thought you were nicer.”
“I am nice.”
“I’m not complaining. I like you better when you’re not trying so hard to be nice.”
She looked away, flustered that he’d sussed out her secret—that the sunny, friendly demeanor she adopted at work was just an act. Underneath it she was snarky and cynical and not nearly as nice as she pretended to be.
Adam glanced over at the gate, but when he saw that boarding still wasn’t imminent, he returned his focus to Olivia. “Seriously though, why do you carry so much stuff with you?”
“In case I need it.”
“Doesn’t it get old, dragging that heavy bag everywhere you go? I’ve seen you lugging that thing around the office. I’m surprised you haven’t developed a shoulder impingement.”
“It’s not that heavy. And I like to be prepared.”
“For what?”
“Emergencies.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What kind of emergencies do you expect to happen around the office?”
“That’s the thing about emergencies: you never expect them. And then boom, you spill marinara on your shirt and wish you had a Shout wipe. Or the button pops off your pants and you need to sew it back on.”
“So not really emergencies so much as minor inconveniences.”
“Well, yeah, I’m not some crazy end-of-the-world prepper carrying around iodine tablets and gas masks.”
“So you’re just an over-planner, is what you’re saying.”
She felt her face redden, not from embarrassment, but irritation—not that anyone would be able to tell the difference by looking at her pink cheeks. “I don’t think I’m an over-planner. I take an appropriate amount of precautions.”
“I have literally never needed a sewing kit at the office in my life. It would be a ridiculous waste of energy to carry one around every day for years on the infinitesimal chance I might one day need one.”
Honest to Christ, did this tool belt ever let up? The urge to punch him square in the dick was growing exponentially with every second she spent in his company.
“Well, I actually have needed a sewing kit,” she replied, struggling to keep her voice level, “and I was glad I had it. And other people have needed one and I was glad to be able to offer one to them as well.”
“So you’re carrying this stuff around for other people who can’t be bothered to carry it themselves?”
