Page 45 of The Overtime Persuasive

If I am, you can take it out on me in working hours.

Oh I will.

Liam

I’m glad you’re coming with me.

Now that took a turn. How do I respond to that? I’m glad too, but we need to keep this to numbers? Stop being handsome and nice and really smart and stuff?

I choose to not answer, instead turning the phone face down on the counter and try to avoid eye contact with the two versions of Miss Marple that walked into my shop.

Because I am excited.

That’s the part I can’t quite make sense of. How do you know someone for years, mostly as the arrogant but silly dude who always seems to be close by, and then suddenly start finding him attractive?

When I really dig into it, maybe it’s the numbers. Maybe it’s the fact that he can math the math, which blows my mind because numbers make me crazy. There is a twelve-thousand-dollar fine sitting in my desk drawer as documented proof.

And still…how is that sexy? Although I bet if Liam put a pair of black wire-rimmed glasses on while wearing his hockey uniform and started explaining quarterly projections to me, I’d probably get turned on.

Which is legitimately nuts.

At the same time, it’s also true.

Tomorrow night, I am spending an entire evening with Liam. That should be plenty of time to figure out whether math is the catnip or if it could be a deterrent.

I’m hoping for deterrent, but I’m betting on the catnip.

CHAPTER 11

LIAM

Coach’s front door closes behind us, and for the first time in three hours, I finally have Eva to myself again.

She walks beside me carrying the little succulent Juliette made for her, one hand curled protectively around the navy-and-gold pot. Coach’s wife also sent her home with two brownies wrapped in foil. Apparently, Eva has spent the evening collecting gifts and winning over every person I know, not that I’m surprised in the least.

She was charming and funny. She was comfortable. She gave as good as she got, and when the conversation drifted too far into hockey, she never once looked at me like she wanted rescuing. She simply found Juliette and started a completely separate discussion about which player would be the first to sustain an injury trying to carve a turkey. Owen won by a landslide.

“So?” I ask as we start down the walk.

Eva glances at me. “So?”

“You had a good time?”

Her shoulder nudges my arm. “I had a really good time, Liam.”

Before I can think of something charming to say in response, the door opens behind us. “Y’all sneaking off?”

We turn as Tripp comes down the porch steps, pulling on his jacket. His keys spin once around his finger before he catches them in his palm.

“It’s nine thirty,” I say. “Dessert was served and plates were cleared. Dinner is over.”

“For some,” Tripp says, each word dripping with playful spite. “Those of us with stamina are still socializing.”

“That’s a lot of swagger for the team rookie,” I say, putting just enough weight on the last word to make Tripp’s grin sharpen. I, of all people, know exactly how much he’ll hate that reminder.

Tripp glares at me for a half-second before he turns to Eva and gives her a quick smile. “Good seeing you tonight.”

“You too.” Eva’s gaze shifts from Tripp to me, her brows pulling together like she’s trying to work out what she missed.