Page 38 of Spurred On

“Okay.” Amy groaned as she hefted herself up from the floor. “Wanna come?”

Sidney shook her head. “Naw. I think I’ll just hang out here ’til lunch.”

“Okay,” Amy said.

Porsche lowered her brows. “You’re not getting thinky too, are you?”

“Perish the thought.” She wasn’t thinky in the slightest. In fact, her brain didn’t seem to want to do anything much at all.

Except obsess over Cody.

Which was probably even worse.

***

To her utter chagrin, her thoughts summoned him.

Or at least that’s the way it felt.

She was just lying there, draped over a very comfy easy chair trying not to think of him when she saw Cody whip past the library door.

He heart did an annoying flippy thing and then plummeted when he just kept going. Surely she didn’t want him to actually come in here and talk to her. She was avoiding him after all.

But then there was a screech as his boots skidded on the hardwood floor and seconds later, he appeared in the doorway. He looked terribly nonchalant. Far too nonchalant for someone who was actually nonchalant. Also, he was out of breath.

She willed herself not to move, though she had the urge to bolt upright and fix her hair or some such nonsense.

She was who she was, tangles and all.

“Oh, hey Sidney,” he said as he adjusted his shirt and strolled into the room. She noticed he kicked the door shut with his heel. “Whatcha doin’?”

She shrugged. “Just hanging out.”

He frowned. “Aren’t you enjoying the party?”

“Of course I am. I don’t get to just hang out at home.”

“Really?” He took the seat across from hers. His brow wrinkled. “What is it you do?”

The fact that he didn’t know, that he’d never bothered to ask, irritated her. Also—not that she was ashamed or anything—she really didn’t want to talk about it. Her job was uninspiring, but it paid the bills. That was all that mattered. “I work.”

“I figured as much,” he said in a dry tone. “But what do you do?”

“A little of everything.” And a lot of nothing. Though there was always a morning rush at the Coffee Shack, late afternoons were usually a yawn fest. Between customers Sidney put on her sweater—because it sometimes got cold in her bikini—and read a book.

She read a lot of books.

“I get it. You don’t want to talk about work.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Do you like living in Dallas?”

She eyed him sharply. What was he doing? Playing twenty questions? Why was he suddenly so interested in her? There had to be a reason, and it probably had nothing to do with any burning desire he had to know her better. This was Cody Silver. Whatever it was, it had to be about him.

She decided to play along though, simply to see where this was going.

And also, she was bored.