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“You do like a challenge.” Michael pilfered several fries and shoved them in his mouth. “I hope Oliver does.”

“I think so. He asked questions and listened, wasn’t an egotistical know-it-all like some PhDs.” While being so darn cute. Georgie smiled, recalling his striking grin and long lashes, not to mention all those muffins. “I did find him somewhat reserved, though. Probably didn’t help I got carried away and babbled my head off.”

“That just means Ms. Georgie was comfortable,” said Michael, mid-chew.

Eventually, yeah, but not initially. Georgie chose not to correct him and continued, leaving more of the tiny olive ‘tires’ on her plate. “I kept trying to draw him out of his shell, so I asked about Toronto and what he’s into.” She dunked the nacho in the salsa and took a big bite.

“Hockey, I hope.” Michael picked up his knife. “He’s Swedish, after all.”

Mouth full of chip and cheese, she shook her head.

“No?” Michael grumbled and began sawing the massive burger in half. “Not worth knowing then.”

She ignored his comment, recalling how Oliver helped with her coat. When was the last time a guy did that? Try never! He’s a true gentleman. She swallowed and leaned onto the table, wishing she could repay his kindness. “It feels like Oliver and I are dealing with the same things, you know? We’re both worrying we’ll be cast aside despite our years of knowledge and experience…”

“Yeah, that sucks.” Michael’s knife sliced through the burger and bun, meeting the plate with a sharp clank.

“I’m sick of it.” Georgie scowled. “Watching decent, hardworking people getting the shitty end of the stick time and time again. It makes me want to help him even more.”

Nodding, Michael claimed the smaller half of the Thor burger, leaving the larger portion for Georgie.

“And I feel bad for him. All he does is work and go home. Imagine if that were you, Mikey, living in a strange city, knowing absolutely no one.”

“I’d relish the challenge. Truly. I’d make friends”—Michael snapped his fingers—“like that!” Removing the top bun of his half of the burger, he picked up the ketchup bottle and shook it forcefully. “He’s a big boy. Give him time. He’ll meet people, go sightseeing, and whatnot.”

Georgie played with her milkshake’s straw, lifting it up and plunging it back into the thick strawberry froth. “Maybe…if he ever makes it out of his office. It’s in the basement. Tiny and cold—like his boss, the chief curator of Egypt. Apparently, she has a reputation for being a demanding perfectionist.”

Michael unscrewed the ketchup’s cap. “Oh, you met her? I bet she’d make a great reference, Gi.” He gave the bottle a terse shake, and a large glug of ketchup flooded the top of his burger’s patty.

“That’s what I thought, but…” Georgie paused as the waitress delivered Michael’s cherry cola.

“Thank you.” He grinned in appreciation as the server continued on her way. He capped the ketchup and took a sizeable bite of his burger, uttering an eye-closing “Mmm.”

“She came back early from a business trip,” said Georgie. “Acted all strange, barely spoke, then left. I didn’t even get the chance to introduce myself.” She abandoned the straw and snatched a chicken finger. “I got the feeling she wanted to talk to Oliver privately but couldn’t ’cause I was there.”

“Maybe they’re illegally smuggling ancient artifacts.” Michael laughed into his burger.

Rolling her eyes dramatically, Georgie dipped the chicken in plum sauce and took a hungry bite, the crunchy deep-fried coating and tender poultry rousing a satisfied smile.

“Or”—he mumbled mid-chew—“they’re fucking.”

Georgie winced. “Michael!”

“What?”

Gulping a watery-eyed hard swallow, she shook her head. “He doesn’t like her. He told me.” She picked up her milkshake.

“Well, he would, wouldn’t he? For cover? Make everyone think he can’t stand her so no one suspects a thing. Meanwhile, they’re meeting up after hours and the only bone she’s interested in is in his pants!”

Georgie nearly spat out her milkshake. “Oh my god, you’ve been watching way too much Young and the Restless.”

“Yeah, so? That just means I know what I’m talking about!”

Michael and his soap operas. Out of the corner of Georgie’s eye, she spied the tip of the pharaoh bookmark jutting out of the gap between the wall and the banquette, on the verge of vanishing. Shit. She dropped the chicken finger and wiped her fingers on a serviette.

Sizing up another bite, Michael glanced over his burger. “If his boss came back early and seemed deeply disappointed, they’re definitely at it.”

Georgie left the balled-up serviette beside her plate and tugged Oliver’s gift free, smoothing its tousled tassel. “I hope not.” She stilled into a scowl.