This was so weird.
“Or,” I said, opening my calendar to add the date, “he doesn’t like wasting time, which I can definitely appreciate.” I was genuinely curious—and more than a little nervous—for the date. Jeff was a tech executive. He’d get me in ways most people wouldn’t. His messages so far had been the perfect amount of polite and to-the-point. He also hadn’t minded when I’d disclosed that I had a journalist shadowing me for work. “Why are you smiling like that?”
Grant lifted a shoulder and twirled his pencil between his fingers. “Just wondering what type ofdoesn’t want to waste timeguy Jeff is.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I glanced at Jeff’s message in Matchify and copied the address of the restaurant he’d suggested into my calendar.
“It means that I’m curious how exactly his impatience will manifest—professionally, emotionally…physically.”
I stopped typing and looked at Grant, who had a brow cocked.
I returned to typing. “For someone who loves the unvarnished truth so much, you sure like to traffic in implication.”
He chuckled.
“Besides,” I said, “I think you’re wrong about Jeff. And probably about most people. I could get a date with the Pope and you’d be reading all sorts of malicious intent into his messages.”
“Which I’d be totally justified in doing if the Pope were on Matchify.”
I shot him a look, annoyed to find it softening at the sight of his twinkling eyes. “Your extremely kind concerns on my behalf are noted, Grant, but I can handle myself. I’m going to respond with the green light for tomorrow, okay?”
“Oh, I’m sure Jeff’ll be thrilled with every green light he can get.”
I’d walked right into that one.
“Jeff must do very wellfor himself.” Grant’s shoulder pressed against mine as he peered at the menu I’d pulled up on my phone. “That, or he’s overcompensating for something.”
I bumped him away from me with my arm as we walked from Matchify’s offices to the restaurant. “You’re not going to be hanging around this close during the date, are you?” I hadn’t ever been to Table of Origin, and itwasexpensive, but that just showed Jeff was taking this seriously.
“Nah, I’ll be at the bar—drinking a ten-dollar ice water, I assume. Unless Jeff’s feeling extra generous and wants to buy me dinner too.” He stretched his neck to see my screen again. “Twenty-five dollars for a beet salad? Not even Dwight Schrute would charge that much.”
I turned off my phone screen. “Everything’s fresh—farm to table.” I halted as the restaurant came into view down the block, and Grant followed suit.
“You can go ahead,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you…embarrassed of me?”
I let out something dangerously close to a snort. “I think most people would agree that showing up to a date with another man is bad form.”
“But I’m notanother man; I’m the journalist shadowing you.”
My gaze flitted to the slice of his jaw, then the fit of his shirt across his chest. If I were Jeff and I saw my date show up with Grant,I’dfeel threatened, journalist or not.
I pressed my lips together rather than admit that, though. Grant would have a heyday with a comment like that.
“Fine,” he said. “But you go in first. I don’t want to choose my seat at the bar, then have you end up on the other side of the restaurant.”
I shrugged. “Fine.” I turned toward the restaurant and took a breath, rubbing my lips together. I’d freshened up a bit before leaving—put on lipstick, perfume, and a dress—but I still felt weird going on a date straight from work. Given that Jeff and I both worked so near, it had made more sense than going home, though.
And now it was time to meet him in person.
“Hold on.” Grant’s hand grasped my arm just above the elbow.
I faced him, annoyed at the way his fingers fit around my arm so easily.
He lifted a hand toward my face but stopped just shy of my mouth. After a pause, he retracted it and tapped a spot next to his own lip. “You’ve, um, got a little lipstick.”
My hand stole to my mouth. I wiped the spot he’d indicated, looking at him for confirmation I’d gotten it.
