Page 53 of The One Who Saw Her: Boone

"I tell the truth louder," she shot back.

He chuckled—that low, easy sound that somehow managed to feel like foreplay.

"To me dating seems simple enough," he said, those green eyes the exact shade of a tropical ocean—god how she loved the tropics. "You just meet someone, see if it feels right, and go from there."

"Sure," she said, tapping the laptop closed. "Because not everyone has your schedule—sunup to sundown, plenty of time to just meet someone."

Boone's gaze softened. "You help people fall in love, Vivi?"

"I help them find the courage to try."

The teasing glint in his eyes shifted into something more careful. "Try me."

"What?"

"Interview me." He pulled out the chair opposite hers and sat, resting his elbows on the table like he'd already decided how this was going to go. "Let's see how this works."

Oh no. That tone. That infuriatingly confident I-dare-you tone.

Vivi tried to play it cool, but her pulse was doing gymnastics. "You'd never hire me."

He leaned forward, just enough to close the distance without crossing it. "Guess you'll never know unless you ask."

"Okay," she said, writing his name onto a blank document like it wasn't already etched into her brain.

Vivi was old school. Even though she'd filled out Colter's dating profile online, she preferred to spread out a mess of paper and colored pens across the table like a commander planning a battle. Charts, sticky notes, doodles in the margins, pros-and-cons lists, coffee rings marking the victories and failures of past clients. It all lived in glorious analog chaos before she uploaded the carefully curated data into sterile online forms. She liked the feel of paper under her fingers, the ability to cross things out and reorganize, to make sense of the madness in a way a spreadsheet never could.

Boone leaned back slightly, watching her scribble furiously, shuffle papers, and stab a sticky note into the mess like she was planting a flag.

"You really do all this by hand?" he asked.

"Yeah, I like seeing it all laid out. It makes me feel in control."

"In control, huh? Does that apply to the bedroom?" He paused for a beat to study her, and she knew what he found—sex-dazed eyes.

“No comment.”

His eyes dropped to her lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

A zing bounced around in her chest. Stupid zing.

Vivi groaned softly, buried her face in her papers, and tried to hide the smile pulling at her lips. "First question. What are you looking for?"

"Someone who doesn't make everything a game."

Her fingers stilled on the paper. "That's direct."

"You said honesty wasn't lying."

"Touché." She cleared her throat. "Biggest flaw?"

"Work too much," he said, without hesitation. "Don't talk about what I want. Don't stop to think if anyone else wants the same thing."

Honesty lodged somewhere deep in her chest. He’d said it so simply like he'd already made peace with the idea that wanting things, needing things, wasn't something he had the luxury of. And maybe that's what hit her most. Because she'd spent years doing the opposite: adapting to everyone else's expectations, hoping someone might finally see her and ask what she wanted.

Hearing him admit it out loud made her realize how lonely that kind of silence was and how familiar it felt.

Maybe this was why she couldn't look away, because for all their differences they were both starving for the same thing. Someone willing to listen. Someone willing to try.