The Love Experiment (Stubborn Hearts 1)

His head snapped around. “Did you add that last bit so I’d feel sorry for little single you?”

Crappity crap. “Oh hell no. I was just—wait, yes, I’m single, this is a love experiment. It’s supposed to be done by two single people. And you don’t need to feel sorry for me. I’m doing fine.” Which was absolutely true, most of the time.

“And you assumed I was single, like you surmised I was gay.”

She frowned. She’d bought into the office gossip, which suggested he was gay and a player. Rookie mistake. But he seemed so undateable. The oddest combination of unapproachable and compelling. This wasn’t going to work, since all they could do was snipe at each other.

“Yeah, this is stupid.” Jack was never supposed to be part of the story anyway. She’d have to give up the idea of landing him like he was a whale. “I’m going to talk to Shona.”

“I like how you’re thinking.”

“You’ll just have the thing where Phil will bury your alien proof story and you won’t win a Pulitzer to shove up your son-of-a-bitch father’s ass.” It wasn’t like that was a death threat, so he’d cope.

She wasn’t ready for his reaction. Jack slammed his hand on the bar top and laughed. Hard enough to make the bartender look across at them with an amused expression. Derelie waved her off. It was late and they didn’t need anything, and as soon as Jack stopped cackling, he’d be out the door and off into the night, and she’d never see him again except across the top of cubicles and computer screens. She’d say Jack, he’d say Honeywell—if he didn’t revert to calling her Clickbait again—and that was that.

She sighed. Jackson Haley was the most interesting person to happen to her since she moved to the city and took the job at the Courier eight months ago, even if he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in her outside of how quickly he could dump her. Unlike Yogaboy, at least Jack knew she existed.

As predicted, he pocketed his cell and collected his precious envelope, signaled to the bartender and pushed off his stool. “See you ‘round, Honeywell.”

He didn’t wait for a response, just slipped his suit coat on and left. She sipped the last of her ice water and headed for the ladies’, peed, soaped her hands, tidied her hair and put her invisible aligner back in. She had a finger to her mouth, fiddling it into place, when she came back into the bar and found him standing there. He gave her the kind of look that made her freeze in place, teeth clamping on her finger.

“How did you get here?” he said.

She gave the aligner one last shove and took her finger away. It was a trick question. Donovan’s was around the corner from the office. “Walked, but Red Line from home.”

“Take a cab.”

“I—ah.” Despite a free dinner, a cab home would blow her budget for the week. Dental was expensive.

“I have an account, this is a work expense, like the meal.”

“You’re going to drop me home on your way?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about Jack knowing where she lived. Better if they dropped him off first.

“No. I’m going back to the office.”

“You’re going to pay for my cab ride home?”

He clucked his tongue in exasperation. “That’s what I just said, didn’t I?”

She grinned at him. “It’s kind of like you singing to me.”

He closed his eyes, poked his fingers under the rim of his glasses and rubbed at them. “It’s nothing like that.”

She didn’t w

ant to be his unlooked-for obligation. “I go home in the dark by myself all the time, and this is not a date.”

He’d half turned away before he said, “Suit yourself.”

She put her hand on his arm. A free ride home was a free ride home, and sadly this was the closest to a date she’d had since arriving in the city. “I’d love a cab ride home.”

They went outside and walked to the corner where cabs usually lurked. He didn’t look at her. The office was in the other direction, but he stood there, watching the flow of traffic, saying nothing, giving off chill factor number two-hundred and thirty-seven.

“You don’t have to wait with me.” He didn’t respond. “Jack, you don’t have to wait with me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I’m perfectly capable of getting a cab by myself.” And really, she’d had enough of him for the night. Brushing elbows in the breakroom would be enough Haley in her life after this.