Page 78 - The Love Hypothesis

“You so do. I saw that face, and I immediately knew.”

“You did not.”
“I did. I do. But it’s fine, you’re allowed to be in a bad mood.”
It was their turn, so she took a step forward and smiled at the cashier.

“Good morning. I’ll have a pumpkin spice latte. And that cream cheese
danish over there. Yep, that one, thank you. And”—she pointed at Adam

with her thumb—“he’ll have chamomile tea. No sugar,” she added
cheerfully. She immediately took a few steps to the side, hoping to avoid

damage in case Adam decided to throw a petri dish at her. She was
surprised when he calmly handed his credit card to the boy behind the

counter. Really, he wasn’t as bad as they made him out to be.
“I hate tea,” he said. “And chamomile.”
Olive beamed up at him. “That is unfortunate.”

“You smart-ass.”
He stared straight ahead, but she was almost certain that he was about to

crack a smile. There was a lot to be said about him but not that he didn’t
have a sense of humor.

“So . . . not the haircut?”
“Mm? Ah, no. It was a weird length. Getting in my way while I was

running.”
Oh. So he was a runner. Like Olive. “Okay. Great. Because it doesn’t
look bad.”

It looks good. As in, really good. You were probably one of the most
handsome men I’d ever talked to last week, but now you look even better.

Not that I care about these things. I don’t care at all. I rarely notice guys,
and I’m not sure why I’m noticing you, or your hair, or your clothes, or how

tall and broad you are. I really don’t get it. I never care. Usually. Ugh.
“I . . .” He seemed flustered for a second, his lips moving without

making a sound as he looked for an appropriate response. Then, out of the
blue, he said, “I talked with the department chair this morning. He’s still
refusing to release my research funds.”

“Oh.” She cocked her head. “I thought they weren’t due to decide until
the end of September.”