“I work at the hospital with her dad, and her mom…” Tanner grins cheekily down at Kate, who chuckles and swats his shoulder like they have an inside joke. “Well, let’s just say we got Vivian Rochester-Chenned, and it’s been roses ever since.”
Jealousy turns my smile brittle. I never got to meet any of Kate’s family.
“How adorable. So, you’ve met her parents?” I ask.
“Yeah, and her sister. Oh, and Liza’s fiancé, too, I guess.”
Understanding grows and gathers like a snowball down a mountain.
Liza’s gettingmarried? Kate must be shattered. No wonder she’s acting weird.
Concern for her wells in my chest. Without thinking, I reach out to touch her arm, but I rally and scratch my nose instead.
“That’s awesome,” I say.
Kate isn’t buying it, but Tanner looks relieved.
I adopt a professional tone. “And Kate, Kendra told me to update you on the ‘No Touchy Emergency Protocol’ right away.” My face isan apologetic mask as I turn to Tanner. “This will only take a minute, but itisproprietary museum information, so…” I tip my head toward the exit.
Kate starts to argue right as Tanner says, “Okay, I’ll give you guys some privacy. I’ll just move on to the next checkbox. Where is it?”
Kate levels me with the cutest glare as she grits out, “Venetian exhibit. Third floor.”
Tanner’s halfway down the hall when I shout, “Actually, it’s the second floor. They moved it.”
She shoves the shoulders of my tuxedo with her small hands. “What are you doing? They didn’t move an entire exhibit, you idiot.”
“I know.” I smirk. “He’ll figure it out.”
“Did you forget about my right hook? Or do youwantme to punch you again?”
“You can do anything you want to me,love.”
She scowls harder, and I grin.
“And the ‘No Touchy Protocol?’ What are you, twelve?” she says.
“Thirteen, actually. And you forgot ‘Emergency.’”
Her arms smack her sides. “Thereisno emergency!”
“Yes, there is. I clearly said, ‘No TouchyEmergencyProtocol.’”
Frustration draws her closer to me like a magnet.
“What do you want, Brandon?” Her gravelly voice is dead serious, and her eyes hold mine in a death grip.
The tiniest whiff of strawberries from her lips carries on her breath, and my bow tie is suddenly too tight. A tiny voice in the back of my mind screams at me to move on. Stop setting myself up for rejection.
My five-foot-four kryptonite blinks up at me, and Ican’tadmit defeat. I may never get over Kate, but I’m sure going to try to get through to her.
“Who are you pretending to be?”
She cocks her head to the side, black curls grazing her shoulder. “What?”
“Whoever this is”—I zigzag a finger through the air across her face, and she shoves it away—“it’s not Kate.”
Her cheeks flush and her left knee bounces, but she throws her shoulders back. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
