Page 37 of This is a Kissing Book

“You’ll drown before it gets here.”

“It’s fine! I’m fine.” But even as she says it, a car speeds past and sends another spray of street water right at her. This time, she jumps back, but her pants and shoes are splattered.

That’s it. I throw the car in park and get out, opening an umbrella. By the time I reach her, I’m also soaked, but I hold the umbrella over both of us.

“Let me give you a ride home. It’s the least I can do.”

Tucked under this little black canopy, I can smell cherry blossoms covered in morning dew. See the plea in her eyes for whatever curse is upon her to be lifted. She studies my face for a long moment as though weighing her options—or contemplating whether she can get away with stealing my car.

“Get in.” Clearing my throat, I add, “Please.”

I tell myself that if she catches a cold after being out here sopping wet, her absence from work will be on me.

Finally, she sighs. “I’ll get your upholstery soaked.”

Ignoring her objections, I open the passenger door for her, keeping the umbrella steady.

She slides onto the leather seat and looks up at me. “If I go missing, people will look for me.”

I bark a laugh and get behind the wheel. Assured the bee is gone, I seal the windows. Then explain that a stinging insect was inside the vehicle.

She slumps in the seat. “Likely story. You just wanted to see if you could get me with that rooster tail of water.”

“Now, why would I do that?”

She shrugs, then, as if uncomfortable with the truth that I’m not the monster she’s made me out to be, she adds, “The bee was probably allergic to you.”

“I don’t think my EpiPen would work on it.”

“Well, thank you for offering to give me a ride.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

She’s quiet for a beat, then haltingly says, “I’m sorry about the anaphylaxis comment in the elevator.”

“No apology necessary.”

“Are you always this nice outside the office?” Juliana asks as I wait for a break in traffic.

“Depends on where I am. On who you ask.”

“What would your friend … what’s his name? The one who held us hostage to go boating? Bear Claw? Bear Skin? Bear Hug?”

I chuckle. “Bīriņš. Unsolicited advice: stay away from him unless you want your heart broken.”

“I didn’t know I was in the running as a candidate for anything involving my heart.”

I jerk my head in her direction. “You didn’t notice the way he looked at you?”

She wipes a drip of water from her hair out of her eyes. “Who said I’m the kind to fall in love?”

“You did,” I say, pulling back into traffic.

As if narrating the live-action adaptation of a comic, she says, “By day, he stalks around the office like he has a vendetta against the very floor beneath him. By night, he leaps buildings in a single bound and rescues old ladies from being victims of petty theft …”

“And apologizes for splashing his assistant with nasty road water.”

“If I didn’t see the bee fly out of the window when you rolled it down, I’d be convinced you did it on purpose.” She sighs.