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But the entire time, I felt eyes on me. Eyes that weren’t there to figure out how my position here had changed their jobs. Nope. It was Garner.

Every time I glanced up, he was looking at me. So was his brother, but that wasn’t the same. His brother looked amused, like he knew something. Garner… Garner looked upset. Tight-lipped. Tense.

It was weird.

Maybe he was mad at me. I had taken longer than planned to come back. Maybe he thought I was putting off the end of the project—or worse, avoiding him.

After I answered a final question, my stomach let out a growl so loud it echoed off the glass walls.

Garner stood abruptly and said, “That’s all for now. Thanks, everyone.” Then he came over and grabbed my hand… in front of everyone. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” I was so confused.

“You’re hungry,” he said. “I’m feeding you.”

“I’m fine?—”

“No, you’re not fine.” His voice was firm. “You worked through lunch, and now your body’s reminding you. Come on. I’ll make dinner. We’ll go to my house.”

His house.

Something about that shift made my pulse stutter.

As we walked out together, our hands still linked, I felt the question rise again in my throat. The one I’d rehearsed. The one Harold told me to ask.

If there was ever a time to be brave, this was it.

I just had to find the courage to say it.

13

GARNER

“You’re an excellent cook.” Joss dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.

I considered fibbing and saying he had a little something in the corner of his mouth and I’d take the napkin and do it myself. But Joss had seen the same movies and watched the same TV shows as me. That was a tired old trope and he’d recognize it for what it was.

But it might work.

I didn’t, though, because he twisted the napkin as though he was uncomfortable or wanted to break bad news.

“Dessert and coffee?”

He pursed his lips. “Does dessert come with a side of Garner?”

I pictured myself lying on a platter, slathered in cream and surrounded by chocolate mousse. My body tingled, and I brushed my bare foot over his. He shivered and leaned forward, grabbing my hand.

“It can, I suppose. At the moment, it’s in the fridge.”

Joss giggled. “You’re too far away.”

Oh, I’d witnessed this scene in movies where one person swiped everything off the table, flung the other person on the table, and they had hot, frantic sex. I mentally prepped myself, and my fingers gripped my pants zipper pull tab, ready to lower it.

“You’re too cute.” He placed a light kiss on my lips and sat back. Hmmm, so much for my sex-on-the-table fantasy. I could conjure up a scenario for both of us, I didn’t need Joss to be the instigator.

But he got up and rummaged in the fridge and brought out the mousse and the whipped cream. “Yum. Chocolate is my favorite.”

If we’d been dating before this, I might have learned his favorite color and the movie that he’d watched a hundred times.