Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,114

to show him just how strongly I feel. I tackle him with a bear hug.

“What’s this all about?” he asks with a chuckle.

“You’ll see tomorrow.” I dart down the staircase and walk out the door.

thirty

Monday morning begins with my knee shaking against a chair. I can’t help it; I’m so excited I could burst. Luckily, no one is nearby to notice. I’m fifteen minutes early on the first day of my new work life. Everything is the same except how I feel about my across-the-hall office neighbor. I had all of Sunday, a two-hour Skype conversation with Addy, and an hour phone call with Kaitlin to bathe in my newfound bliss. There is zero doubt, and I want everyone to know.

The piece of paper lying in my lap is the first step. Every time I hear footsteps down the hall, my head nearly snaps off my neck to see if it’s Tate. My neck is starting to cramp due to all the false starts, but this time when I turn it’s him.

He stops short at the front of his desk, a question on his face. Before he can ask me why I’m sitting in his office instead of my own, I stand up and hand him a crisp new copy of the Nuts & Bolts relationship disclosure form, complete with my information written on it.

“My weekend surprise is a day late. Sorry.”

He responds with wide eyes and a slow smile.

“All that’s left is you.”

He scans the paper with bright eyes, then reaches into his messenger bag. He pulls out a book with a folded piece of paper sticking out of it. When he smooths it flat onto his desk, I recognize the crumpled edges and my handwriting.

“You saved it.” I skim my fingers across the employee relationship disclosure form I handed to Tate on Saturday night during our blowout.

“I was hopeful.” He huffs out a sigh through smiling lips. “I love your weekend surprise more, though. It’s the bee’s knees.”

“There you go again sounding like you’re from another era.”

He lifts a single knowing eyebrow at me. “I seem to remember a beautiful dark-haired woman saying on Saturday evening that she likes the way I talk.”

My head falls back as I laugh. “We’re something else, aren’t we?”

“Indeed. And now everyone will know you’re my something else, and I’m yours.”

“So lovey-dovey. Have we lost our edge already?”

“Nah. We’ll still bicker. Someone’s gotta call me on my typing and tapping and slurping.”

This time when I try to push him, he catches my hand and laces his fingers in mine. “I knew you did that on purpose.”

“I couldn’t help it. Your annoyed face is the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”

With my free hand, I palm his cheek, savoring the rough feel of his stubble. Leaning over his desk, he fills out the form. I can’t help but fidget, the bottomless joy simmering underneath my skin. The impossible is happening. The man I used to loathe with such ease is now the object of my affection.

“Don’t forget to write the date on it,” I say. “When Scott in Accounting goes through the paperwork, he’s always miffed if people forget.”

I reach to point out the date line, and knock into the book on Tate’s desk. It’s a copy of Hawaii: The Big Island Revealed.

“Are you reading this?” I ask.

Tate stops writing, then looks at the book. Something extra rests under the smile he flashes me. “I finished it a few months ago.” He shoves it into his bag.

A light pops on in my head. “That’s why you knew so much about the Big Island when you asked me to talk about it in the hospital, isn’t it? The questions you asked were so specific. You were learning about where I came from, weren’t you?”

One corner of his light pink mouth quirks up. “You didn’t give up much the times I asked you about it at work. I had to forage for info on my own.”

I ruffle his curls with my fingers. The soft moan that slips out of his mouth makes me shiver. I press a light kiss to his lips.

“We should probably head to Will’s office. We’ve got a meeting with him and Lynn, remember?” he says against my mouth.

“Crap—that reminds me. Jamie.”

“What about him?” Tate’s jaw tenses.

I run a hand over his face. He relaxes instantly. “Things are going to be so awkward when we see him at the worksite.”

“I can be professional,” Tate says.

I raise a doubtful eyebrow.

“I can try to be