Page 56 of IRL: In Real Life
I hated that. More than I should have for less than half an hour in a hotel bar on a weekday afternoon.
“Okay,” I said.
She looked at me, really looked, like she had caught the note under the word and was deciding what to do with it.
Then she stood.
I stood too.
She picked up her laptop, slid the phone into the side of her bag, and paused there close enough for me to catch the warmth of her perfume again.
“This doesn’t count as Thursday,” I said.
One brow lifted. “You making rules now?”
“Protecting the structure.”
That got a smile out of her.
“Good,” she said. “Because I’d hate for you to get ahead of yourself.”
“Never that.”
“That sounds false.”
“It’s a little false.”
She laughed again and turned toward the elevators, headed for the garage. I walked with her because I wasn’t about to let her disappear back into the workday without taking the extra steps.
At the elevator bank, she turned to face me fully.
For one second, neither of us said anything.
Lobby noise moved around us. Suitcases rolling. A bartender polishing stemware. Somebody checking in too loud for no reason. All of it faded just enough.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For wanting to see my day up close.”See me up closeis what her eyes said.
I smiled. “Anytime.”
The elevator dinged.
She stepped inside, and I stepped in with her.
One brow lifted.
“You walking me to my car now?”
“Seem like the decent thing to do.”
“That sounds unlike you.” I loved her taking my lines to use on me.
“I have a multilayered personality.”
That got a laugh out of her.
