Page 220 - The Love Hypothesis

He turned to her, his eyes traveling down her legs and then rapidly

moving away. “I know. You’re less vertically challenged than usual.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Hey, I’m five-eight. That’s actually pretty tall.”
“Hm.” Adam’s expression was noncommittal.

“What’s that face?”
“What face?”

“Your face.”
“Just my regular face?”

“No, that’s your ‘you’re not tall’ face.”
He smiled, just a smidge. “Are the shoes okay for walking? Should we

go back?”
“They’re fine, but can we slow down?”
He feigned a sigh, but he did. His hand let go of hers and pushed against

her lower back to steer her to the right. She had to hide a small shiver.
“So . . .” She stuffed her fists in the pockets of her coat, trying to ignore

how the tips of her fingers were still tingling. “Those free drinks you
mentioned? Do they come with food?”

“I’ll get you dinner.” Adam’s lips curved a little more. “You’re not a
cheap date, though.”

She leaned into his side and bumped her shoulder against his biceps. It
was hard not to notice that there was no give. “I really am not. I fully plan
to eat and drink my feelings.”

His smile was more uneven than ever. “Where do you want to go, smart-
ass?”

“Let’s see . . . What do you like? Aside from tap water and hard-boiled
spinach?”

He gave her a dirty side-look. “How about burgers?”
“Meh.” She shrugged. “I guess. If there’s nothing else.”

“What’s wrong with burgers?”
“I don’t know. They taste like foot.”
“They what?”

“What about Mexican? Do you like Mexican?”
“Burgers don’t taste like—”