Page 67 of The Love Operation

“But there is a problem,” he says, eyes locked on mine.

“Oh?”

“How far away you are. It feels like I have to shout over all this”—he gestures to the area between us—“space.”

A slow, deliberate smile spreads across my lips. I stand and move until I’m a foot away from him, then I ease onto his desk.

He lets out an unsteady breath.

“Better?” I ask, teasing.

Before he can say whatever was poised on his lips, there’s a sharp knock at the door.

I shoot up. My blood pressure scolds me: What the hell were you thinking?

The person on the other side doesn’t wait for Isaac to welcome them in. The door flies open.

“Hey, Isaac, got a—” Dr. Tenpenny stops in the doorway, hand still poised on the doorknob. His eyes snap between me and Isaac. His brows tick up—just barely.

We are too close.

“Oh, I—”

“Come on in, Camden,” Isaac says without missing a beat, as if he’s immune to the charged atmosphere. “Dr. Wren and I were just discussing the town hall.”

Dr. Tenpenny nods, but I don’t miss the way his gaze hesitates for a fraction of a second, like he’s mentally cataloging the moment.

“I can come back later,” Tenpenny says, his voice halting.

He’s not sure what he just walked in on. And that’s the problem.

I square my shoulders, remind myself who I am.

“No. Come in, Dr. Tenpenny,” I say, as if this is my office. “Mr. Thompson and I were pretty much done here.” I turn to Isaac, cool and buttoned up. “Thank you for the information. I look forward to the town hall.”

I give him a nod, then I turn to Tenpenny, extending a congenial smile.

His face relaxes just slightly, like he’s convincing himself he read the situation wrong.

Like he’s thinking A hard-ass like Cord Wren wouldn’t make a mistake like that.

If he’d caught me a month ago, he’d be right. And he’s right again now. Because this was a hard and fast lesson. I can’t let my guard down.

As I step out of Isaac’s office, my heart is beating too fast, especially when I pass his secretary as she’s settling back in at her desk. But I smile as if there aren’t dancing weasels in my chest.

And I keep walking.

Chapter 16

Clock’s Tickin’

The priest is making a complex analogy using a C. S. Lewis book, and everyone around me is engrossed. But I can’t stop watching the young child in the row in front of us who’s licking everything: hymnbooks, Bibles, the wood of the pew, his baby sister. No one seems to notice. No one’s stopping him.

I bite the inside of my cheek and inhale slowly. This isn’t hilarious. This absolutely isn’t hilarious. This. Isn’t. Funny. But my mind can’t be fooled.

My eyes flick to Isaac, but he’s focused. If we weren’t here with his family—his parents, two of his siblings and their families—and if I weren’t having lunch at his parents’ house after this service, I’d absolutely poke him, make him look. Since I’d rather not be remembered as a sacrilegious hyena, I shift my gaze back to the lectern.

But I can’t resist, I look again.