Page 70 of That Rush

“You said you could keep up.”

“Just make sure you bring water, layers, and shoes with decent traction,” she says.

“I’ll buy hiking shoes.”

“For one date?”

“I’ll hike again.”

“That sounds suspiciously like you expect a second invitation.”

“I expect to earn one.”

She looks away and reaches for another book, but the smile stays on her mouth.

I let her finish the cart. When a patron asks for large-print mysteries, I step aside while Paige walks him across the library. She returns with an empty cart and finds me waiting for her.

“Very restrained,” she says.

“You’re working.”

“That usually doesn’t stop the fictional men.”

“They’re fictional.”

“And you’re so sure reality is better?”

“I thought we settled that Friday night.”

She looks at my mouth. “We settled part of it.”

I set my coffee beside hers on the end shelf. “Which part is still in question?”

“You made some bold promises about what would happen the next time I questioned your stamina.”

“I’m thorough.”

“So am I.”

She steps closer and runs one finger down the center of my shirt until the touch ends at my belt.

“Paige.”

“Yes?”

“Are you trying to provoke me at work?”

“I’m standing in an aisle.”

“With your hand on my belt.”

Her fingertip slips beneath the buckle without loosening it. “You could move.”

I push the cart aside and back her against the shelves.

I lean closer. “You wanted me to move?”

“This works.”