Nerdy (Unexpected Lovers, #2) - J.B. Heller Page 0,2
interview,” she says, pulling a notebook and pen from a cotton tote bag with the word BOOKWHORE in capital letters splashed across it.
I hit save on the file I’m working on then close my laptop and sit back in my seat. “Am I supposed to be impressed that you actually arrived on time?”
She throws her hands in the air, gesturing like a madwoman. “Yes! My roommates are going to think I was kidnapped through the night when they realize I’m not at home. I told you; I don’t do mornings.”
“Or professionalism, it would seem.” I’m being a prick. I’m well aware, and I don’t even care. She’s cute when she’s pissy.
Emory huffs, stands, and goes to the counter—I’m assuming to order that morning coffee she was complaining about missing. “I’ll take a flat white,” I call over to her. “In a mug. No sugar.”
She glares over at me then turns back to the barista with an epic eyeroll. And I just grin. At our initial encounter, she made quite the impression. I think I’m going to enjoy this interview process more than I’d thought.
After placing her order—and I hope mine too—she returns to her seat, dropping down into it with a light thud. I eye her apparel and smile.
She narrows her gaze when she notices me staring. “What?” she snaps.
“Yesterday, it was books are better than boys, and today, you’re dating the figment of another person’s imagination?”
One of her shoulders rises in a shrug. “Yeah, and?”
I grin. She’s sassy for someone so small. “No and. It was just an observation.”
Emory quirks a brow and crosses her arms over her ample chest. But she remains silent.
It’s my turn to ask, “What?” as her blue eyes rake over me.
Again, she shrugs. “Yesterday, you were an ass, and today... you’re still an ass.”
I burst out laughing. “That I am, Emory. That I am.”
Mel approaches with our caffeine hits. She quickly slides Emory’s in front of her without a word, then slowly, she places mine directly in front of me as she positions herself to block Emory from my sight. “Here you go, handsome,” she drawls.
“Thanks, Mel,” I say then shift so I can go back to watching Emory.
Mel gets the hint and disappears a moment later. I’m probably going to have to do something about her soon unless I want her to start spitting in my coffee for constantly brushing her off.
“She’s awfully friendly,” Emory comments.
I shrug. “She works in customer service. It’s an important part of her job.”
Emory snorts. “That’s why she completely ignored my existence.”
Instead of replying, I pick up my coffee and take a hearty swallow of the heavenly liquid.
“Shall we get to it, then?” she asks after drinking some of her own beverage and sighing contentedly.
“Sure,” I say, sitting back in my seat.
She flips open her notebook and clicks her pen a few times, looking at the page in front of her. My gaze locks on her mouth as she nibbles on her full bottom lip, and I’m shocked when my dick perks up for the first time in months.
He’s been uninterested in the world since Jayla and I broke up six months ago, so this is a very welcome development.
The delicate sound of Emory clearing her throat pulls me back to the present and out of my head. “Sorry, what?” I say.
She frowns but repeats herself. “I’m just going to record this on my phone as well as take notes, if you don’t mind.”
I nod and wave her on.
Hitting a few buttons on her cell, she puts it on the table between us then asks, “Why romance?”
Ah, of course she’d start with that. Gripping my hot mug in one hand, I rub the side of my tense neck with the other. “It just kind of happened, I suppose. I didn’t set out to write a romance when I started. But that’s what it evolved into.”
“Hmm, interesting,” she murmurs as she scribbles notes in her book. “Why did you start writing?”
“Honestly, I needed something for myself. My day job is very satisfying, but at the end of it, I have nothing left. Nothing that’s mine. And I wanted that. I set out to create something solely for me that I could be proud of and call my own.”
Her eyes slowly lift to meet mine, and she examines me as though I’ve said something profound. It’s as though she knows exactly what I’m talking about and can see right inside me.
I swallow and avert my gaze. “Next question?”
“Right, umm...” She