Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
When I heard Grant’s footsteps behind me on my way to the parking lot, I grinned even more widely. The thought of him sitting down for two seconds before getting up to come after me was a delightful one.
And this time, I didn’t run. I let him catch right up with me.
“You’re looking smug,” he said as we turned into the parking garage.
“Am I?”
“Sounding smug too.”
I glanced at him when we approached the stairs. “Should I debrief you today? You and Tanner really hit it off.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t think I’ve ever been recognized in public. I definitely did not intend to hijack your date.”
“Me neither. But sometimes life doesn’t give you lemons, Grant. It hands you a pitcher full of sweet, refreshing, hand-squeezed lemonade.” We reached my car and I stopped near the trunk, turning toward him.
“You really enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he asked.
“I genuinely did. I’ve never seen you look so uncomfortable.”
He crossed his arms. “I’ve never been so uncomfortable.”
“Oh, come on. You’re trying to tell me you weren’t flattered by Tanner’s hero worship?”
“If the circumstances had been different, maybe.” He paused. “Hold on. Don’t leave.” He walked to a parking stall two spaces away, and the headlights flashed just before he opened the back door.
He pulled out a brown bag, shut the door, and walked back over.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Donuts,” he said, showcasing the Dawson’s logo. “For Donuts and Debrief.”
I couldn’t stop a smile. It was unexpectedly thoughtful of him, and they smelled divine.
We rested our backs against my car trunk as we ate our maple bars. The fact that he’d liked Dawson’s enough to go back felt like a victory to me.
“So,” he said, “how did the date go before I joined?”
“It was good,” I said. “I like Tanner.”
His maple bar hovered halfway to his mouth. “Like him? Or like like him?”
I met Grant’s eyes, which watched me intently. His curiosity over the question took me by surprise. Why did he care how much I liked Tanner? Or was he surprised given the way the date had gone?
I was tempted to say I like liked him just to see Grant’s reaction. But that would mean I cared about his reaction, and I didn’t want to care.
“Like him,” I clarified. “He’s easy to talk to.”
“You mean he talks a lot.”
I laughed. “When he’s babbling nervously to his hero, maybe. But before that, it was pretty equal.”
“Will you go out with him again?”
I shifted to face Grant more. “You jealous?”
His eyes narrowed for a split second, and he angled toward me so we were facing each other. “Should I be?”
Wait, what?
I was suddenly confused. I’d been teasing him about being jealous that I got a second shot with Tanner. They’d spent most of the date together, after all. But the way Grant responded, it sounded like he thought I was asking if he should be jealous of Tanner.
That wasn’t what I’d meant. At least, I didn’t think so. Now I wasn’t sure.
“I can back off if you want,” I said, trying to shove the train of my thoughts back onto the tracks. “He’s all yours.”
Grant snickered and faced away from me again. “Generous of you. But I’m good.” He reapplied himself to his maple bar. “So, how would you say this date compares to the one with Jeff?”
I considered that for a minute as I chewed. The date with Jeff had felt…familiar. Not because he was familiar but because the vibe had been like a business dinner. It had been different with Tanner. More like friends catching up. Or potential friends, anyway.
The thing both dates shared was that I hadn’t felt any real interest in either of them.
“It was different,” I said. “Part of that was the setting, I imagine, but obviously Tanner was a lot looser.”
“And you liked that?”
“I think so. I get enough of the formal vibe at work. It’s nice to experience a change.”
Grant watched me, and I thought of what he’d said to Tanner: You’ve got to look at things in a way no one else does and notice details no one else does.
I definitely felt that Grant looked at me in a way no one else did. He noticed things too. Things I wished he wouldn’t.
It made sense. I was the article he was investigating. He was looking for the big story.
“Would you say you had more chemistry with Tanner, then?” he asked as a car door shut across the aisle.
“Chemistry?” I repeated.
He chuckled softly. “Yes, Vivian. Chemistry.” He took the last bite of his donut.
“I don’t really do chemistry.”
“Chemistry isn’t something you do. It’s something you experience. And, despite what you think, it’s not the same as compatibility. Besides, we’ve already got your compatibility score with Tanner, right? Seventy-one percent.”
He remembered the exact score? That was part of his job, I guess.
“I’m just not as interested in the idea of chemistry,” I said.
His expression was highly skeptical. “Everyone wants chemistry with a partner. Don’t you?”
I shrugged. “Chemistry is chaotic. It might be exciting at first, but then it’s over, and you’re left with mayhem. Like Pepsi and Mentos. I prefer something a little more reliable and a little less messy.”
“Even if it never surprises you?”
“I’m not really a surprise person.”
“Okay,” he said. “But Pepsi and Mentos are just one type of chemical reaction. There are plenty of others—ones that aren’t as violent. Ones that last longer.”
“Like…?”
“Like…like…” He let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know. I’m not a chemist. But it’s a thing. I’d think of something if it wasn’t on the spot.”
I laughed skeptically.
He searched my face, eyes lightly narrowed—just enough to make me wonder how my mascara had held up over the course of the day and whether my lips were chapped. “You’re really claiming you don’t care about chemistry?”
“It’s not that I don’t care. I just don’t see it as the best predictor for relationships that last. That’s where the data come in.”
“And you think your data captures what matters?”
“I do.” It was me swearing fealty to Matchify.
“Data doesn’t capture everything, though. And it definitely doesn’t explain everything.”
“If the data were good enough, they could.”
He laughed—probably at my use of data in the plural—then shook his head.
“Data, graphs, charts…they don’t explain why someone walks into a room and your pulse kicks up.
Or how you can be aware of a person on the other side of a crowded room without even looking at them.
” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, considering me for a few seconds.
In a swift movement, he set down the bag of donuts and stepped forward until he was right in front of me.
I sucked in a breath so loud it must have echoed throughout the parking garage. Something had just shifted, and my heart struggled to keep pace with the change.
He looked into my eyes, so close that I discovered what a pathetic word hazel was to describe the color of his. Gray. Sea green. Flecks of blue so deep it almost looked black.
“It doesn’t explain this feeling,” he said.
I swallowed. He was so close, and yet, not a single part of our bodies touched. I knew that, not just because I couldn’t feel any contact but because I was aware of every inch of space between us, of how the simplest shift on his part or mine would change it.
The sudden desire for that change made me tense my body until it was as rigid as a board.
“You know what I think?” His voice was quiet, underlining how close we stood.
“What?” I managed. Barely.
“I think your graphs, your charts, your regression models…they make you feel safe. But if I touched you right now”—his eyes held mine, dark and focused—“I guarantee you wouldn’t be thinking about graphs or data.”
My vision flickered, and warmth flooded my body.
Would he touch me?
I wanted him to. The desire burned like a raging summer wildfire, ignited by the lightning strike of his words.
He watched me, waiting for me to respond—or for something else.
And I waited too. For him to test his theory.
A car engine roared to life a few stalls away, and I started.
What was I doing?
I took a step back. “Well,” I said, my voice uneven, “chemistry is science, right? And Matchify’s in the business of science. So, eventually we’ll figure out that part too. But for now, compatibility is what we do, and it’s what I’m interested in.”
It was a declaration to myself as well as to him: whatever I felt just now, I’m not reading into it, and I’m not open to exploring it.
I couldn’t—for so many reasons.
“Noted.” He took a matching step backward and picked up the bag of maple bars. “Seconds?”
The sudden flip between chemistry and donuts was evidence that I shouldn’t read into the little stunt he’d pulled. He’d been proving a point. Nothing else.
“I’m full, but thanks,” I said. “I should really get back to work. See you there?”
“Not today,” he said. “I’ve got a few errands to run. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I ignored a flicker of disappointment. “Sounds good.”
The office was quiet without the clacking of The Truth Machine, but I hadn’t been there long when I received a visit from Brooke. A second debrief.
Without donuts. Or chemistry.
“He really invited Grant to the table with you?” she asked in disbelief, leaning against my desk.
“Yep.”
“And Grant accepted?”
“Yep.” I hesitated. “To be fair, I made it hard for him not to.”
Brooke shut her eyes and shook her head. “I’m so confused. You wanted him to join? I thought you said you liked Tanner.”
“I did. But I also liked seeing Grant uncomfortable. I’m always the one on the spot, and it was nice to switch it up. Besides, I liked Tanner in a friendly way—nothing more.”
She looked at me like I was a strange creature she wasn’t sure what to do with, then glanced at the place Grant usually occupied. “Where’s he now?”
“No idea.” I turned back to my computer. “He said he had some errands and wouldn’t be in until tomorrow.”
The door opened, and Katie ducked her head in. “Am I missing something important?”
“Vivian went on a threesome date with Grant and her Matchify #2.”
Katie’s eyes grew wide. She stepped inside the door and shut it behind her.
“It was not a threesome date.” I gave Brooke the evil eye. “Tanner’s an investigative writer, and apparently Grant is one of his idols, so when he recognized him, he got really excited and invited him to sit with us.” I shrugged like what I’d just described was the most natural thing in the world.
“That’s…weird,” Katie said with an expression that underlined the adjective.
“Right?” Brooke exclaimed. “And Viv wanted Grant to join.”
“To watch him squirm,” I defended.
“Does Grant squirm?” Katie asked doubtfully.
“I mean…squirm may be a slight overstatement, but he was definitely uncomfortable.”
“Of course he was,” Katie said. “He was playing third wheel on a date.” She shuddered slightly. “What did he say after?”
I was back in the parking lot, Grant in front of me, threatening to touch me and make me forget all about my precious graphs and charts.
He would’ve succeeded. I knew that.
And it scared the hell out of me.
“He didn’t really say much about it,” I hedged.
Katie’s face contorted. “That’s also weird. Did you just not talk afterward?”
“We did…”
Katie’s brows slid upward, and she glanced at Brooke, who met her gaze with one that spoke volumes.
Katie came up beside Brooke, leaned against the desk, and looked at me. “Spill.”
“Spill what? We walked to the parking garage, and he asked me about the date, like he did last time.”
“And…?” Katie prompted.
I stared at them, my face turning red. I could continue to insist nothing important had happened, but they knew me too well. They wouldn’t let up until I talked.
“We just chatted for a little while,” I said. “He brought donuts, and we argued about compatibility and chemistry.”
“Argued,” Katie repeated, urging me to expound.
“He refused to believe I don’t put much stock in chemistry and that I think our data are more valuable.”
Katie snorted.
“What?” I asked, slightly annoyed.
“Nothing,” she said, trying and failing to look repentant. “Go on.”
I pressed my lips together, then continued. “He tried to prove his point, and then I came back to work, and then the two of you—”
“Hold up, hold up,” Katie said, one palm raised. “Tried to prove his point?”
Brooke’s gaze was intent on me. “Yeah. How?”
My face was fifty shades of red. “Just, like, got up in my space a little, I guess.”
It was quiet.
So quiet.
“Lemme get this straight,” Katie said. “His way of proving the importance of chemistry was to demonstrate the chemistry between the two of you?”
“Stop,” I said firmly.
“Stop what?” Katie asked, all innocence. “I’m just clarifying.”
“You’re not just clarifying, Katie. You’re trying to get in my head and make things weird.”
“Sounds like Grant beat her to it,” Brooke murmured.
“You sure he didn’t spike the donuts with pheromones?” Katie asked.
I pursed my lips.
“I have to give it up to the two of you,” Katie said. “It sounds like you successfully pulled off a sexy scene in a parking garage—the favorite location for chase scenes and serial killers. It’s a revolution I’m totally on board with. Right?” She turned to Brooke.
“Definitely a compelling rebrand,” Brooke agreed.
I turned to my computer determinedly. “This meeting is officially over. Now get out of my office before I fire both of you.”
“Fine,” Katie said, making her way to the door behind Brooke. “But let us know the temperature of the sand.”
I shut my eyes and sighed. “What are you talking about?”
She held the glass door open as she peeked her head around it, smiling broadly. “The sand you’ve got your head buried in.” She winked and left.
I let out a big sigh and turned back to my ever-expanding to-do list. The number one spot said budget review, but my first order or business would’ve more accurately been called Forget about the chemistry test.