These men were clearly friends despite the insults. Which, perhaps, meant Hartgrave consideredhera friend.
The front door opened with a rattle. A familiar voice called, “Anyone home?”
“Bernie!” Willi pushed himself to his feet. “Come here, sit, while I am bringing you something.”
Emily waved to her co-worker as he came around the bend in a bright-blue newsboy cap. “Fancy seeing you outside the madhouse!”
“Likewise,” Bernie said, blinking in evident surprise, which only grew as he caught sight of the other person at the table.“Oho—so you won’t go to dinner with me, but you’ll go with him?” He clutched at his heart, a gesture ruined by his mischievous grin. “I’m crushed.”
She couldn’t think of an explanation that would keep Bernie from teasing her the entire spring semester. Certainlywe were hungry after spending an hour on his bedwouldn’t do.
But her newly appointed tutor stepped into the breach. “Perhaps if you’d remained on campus long enough to be on hand when she was starving and helpless, you would have had more luck.”
Masterful response. It sounded specific but wasn’t—and yet no one could accuse him of lying. She shot a relieved smile Hartgrave’s way, which turned to a frown as she wondered how often he had put this skill to use with her.
Also: “Helpless?” She wrinkled her nose at him.
“So, then,” Bernie said, glancing between her and Hartgrave, grin still in place, “does this mean—”
“No,” Hartgrave said. Firmly.
She suppressed a snicker. Yep, definitelynota date.
At that point Willi arrived with a plate of nachos, which probably saved them from an escalation of nosy questions.
The food was surprisingly good. (She mentally apologized to Willi for judging his restaurant by its exterior.) For several minutes, they did nothing but eat.
Then Bernie said, “Doing anything for Christmas, Em?”
She swallowed the last bite of her second-to-last fajita. “Going home to visit my folks.”
Hartgrave looked up, frowning. “Oh?”
“I haven’t seen them all semester,” she said, wondering why she was justifying herself.
“How are you planning on getting there?”
“Well, it’s a three-or-so-hour drive ...”
He raised an eyebrow. “Does your vehicle often break down on you?”
She gasped. She so rarely went anywhere that she hadn’t thought of the inherent problem: Her car, even at twelve years old, was a complicated piece of technology. Magic was probably shot right through it.
She’d driven to Ashburn without mishap, if you didn’t count the radio display refusing to display anything, but what if something important broke halfway home? What if—oh God—the brakes failed?
She pushed out of her seat, unable to put more food into her churning stomach. Both Bernie and Willi stopped eating to look at her.
“I—I’ve got to go,” she croaked. “I forgot to take care of something at work.”
“Stay, eat,” Willi insisted. “All this food—”
“Share it with Ballantine,” Hartgrave said, shrugging on his coat as he rose. He held out several bills. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Nein, nein, nein.”
“Willi, Iampaying you.”
“He insults my hospitality!” the man growled, looking angry for the first time in an evening of many insults.
