Page 100 of The Worst Guy


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She bobbed her head. "I know."

I wanted to show her off tonight. Stand in front of all of our friends, loop my arm around her waist, say, "Do you see? This one's mine." At the same time, I wanted to barricade us behind locked doors and under cozy blankets, press her hand to my chest, and say, "Do you see? This one's yours."

We pulled up to a large, brightly lit colonial house. Cars with MD plates lined the street. Sara glanced at the neighboring homes as she zipped her coat. "This is a nice area," she said.

I grabbed her hand as we hustled toward the front door, our heads ducked down to avoid the rain. We still got wet. It gave her a reason to brush the droplets from my hair and it gave me a reason to kiss the raindrops from her cheeks.

"I'm not great at being the center of attention," Sara said. "I just want to say that out loud before we go inside and people will make us the center of attention. For a few minutes, at least."

"I know," I murmured, her hand inside both of mine. "I have this covered."

She sawed her teeth over her lower lip. I couldfeelher thinking. "Okay."

"You're sure?"

After a pause where she nodded to herself, bit that bottom lip, and squeezed my hand, she said, "Yes."

We traded shy grins before pressing the doorbell. Stella, dressed in a Clemson jersey and jeans, opened the door almost immediately. "You made it!Bothof you!" Not pausing long enough for us to say much of anything, Stella herded us inside, calling to her husband, "Cal! Stremmel's here and he brought Shapiro with him!"

I helped Sara out of her coat as the doorbell rang again. Stella shooed us toward the kitchen and family room as she returned to the door. I ran a hand down Sara's back, as much for her as it was for me. "This sweater," I said under my breath. "It pleases me."

That was enough to shake a laugh from her. That laugh was enough to make me drop a kiss high on her cheek. "When did you get so obsessed with my sweaters?"

"Around the time I started wondering whether you wear underwear with your scrubs."

"And when was that?"

"Less recently than you'd think." I glanced at her. "Do you?"

She gave me that hunter's grin, the one that promised she'd kill me quickly. "You'll have to find that out for yourself."

We stepped into the kitchen to find our friends milling around, a dozen decimated pizzas lining the long center island. It took a second for them to notice us and another second for them to notice the narrow distance between me and Sara.

Cal approached us, a beer bottle in hand and an Oregon jersey stretched across his chest. He glanced at us, half a smile pulling at his lips. "Okay. All right. This is new. It's interesting. Not my place to comment so I'll just tell you there isn't much pizza left," he said. "But we can order a couple more."

"Already did," I said. "Should be here any minute."

The doorbell rang again. I pointed over my shoulder.

"Cal?" Stella called. "Did you order more pizza?"

"Then allow me to get you a beer, sir," he said to me. To Sara, he added, "We have beer, wine, some crazy eggnog martini thing Emmerling's husband made, and all the soft stuff too. What's your pleasure, Dr. Shapiro?"

"Water," she said, her gaze shifting as our friends closed in around us. "Thank you."

Erin stepped up when Hartshorn left to fetch those drinks. She looked us over with a careful, appraising glance. "This is good," she said eventually. "It seems my stories have worked on both of you."

I peered at Sara when Erin moved to join Nick near the pizzas. "You got an Erin Walsh story?"

Her shoulders shook with a quiet laugh. "Oh, yeah. Confused the hell out of me."

"That's how it's supposed to be," I told her.

Nick pointed at Sara from the other side of the island. "Thank you for the text," he called. "Glad this worked out."

Sara attempted to respond but Alex bounded over and gathered her up in a hug. "I love scheming with you," Alex said.

"I'm never trusting another word out of your mouth," I said to Alex. "That story you told me about Hartshorn's kid? Insane." I glanced down at Sara. "You should've heard it. The level of detail—it was like a case study. It was like I was studying for practical exams again."