Page 33 of Hottie on Her Shelf
“Yes.” Hallie pressed the heels of her hands to her eyebrows. “It means…more than you can know to hear you say that.”
Oh, man. His reaction should be the norm, not the exception. Fitz wanted to scramble over the desk and cuddle her for comfort.
He had never before had the slightest inclination to cuddle anyone in this office. The institutional gray file cabinets and acoustical tile ceiling didn’t make for much of a romantic atmosphere.
What was going on with him? She might as well be a box full of old-fashioned dark chocolate glazed donuts. Tempting, but stupid to engage with.
Fitz surged out of his chair to restlessly circle the office. “I’m serious, Hallie. People should vote for who’ll do the best job. Gender, legacy, ability to race sailboats, or ability to quote Thoreau—none of that should matter. I know that isn’t the case, but it’s how it should be.”
“Thanks. But if my own parents don’t think I can attract even underdog voters, I clearly need coaching. I can’t afford to hire an actual campaign advisor. And, well, you’ve already made the magnanimous offer to help.”
“The offer stands.” Then it hit him that if he really wanted it to be fair for her he shouldn’t be Hallie’s only option. “Or, if you aren’t comfortable with me, I could find someone in Augusta to talk to you. My treat. To level the playing field.”
“Thanks, but…that’d be weird. I can take your free advice. I can’t take your money to hire an advisor. I just don’t want to embarrass myself again.” She tapped her fist against her mouth. “Because, yes, I know the breakfast was a disaster.”
“You sure?” He pulled the coatrack sideways in front of him as a shield. “I still want to be able to father children someday. I don’t want you putting a knee to the groin if I point out the ways in which you screwed up.”
Laughing, she got up and stood the coatrack back up. Which left them all too close with nothing between them but…possibilities.
Hallie pointed at him. “No sugarcoating from you.” Then she cocked her thumbs back at herself. “Zero threat of physical injury from me. I’m big on learning from mistakes.”
“Me, too. Makes the screw-up sting less if it’s worthwhile in the end.”
“I may not win—”
Making a time-out gesture with his hands, Fitz took a large step away from her. Then he mimed doffing a hat and putting on another. “As your opponent and not your coach, I need to interrupt here. You’re not going to win, Hallie Scott.”
“We’ll see, Mayor Montgomery.” To his delight, she jumped up and pretended to knock the hat off his head. “But, Coach Fitz, if I’m able to change a few people’s minds on issues, or at least get them thinking, that’d be a win for me.”
Wow.
Hallie’s approach was so different from his parents’ win the race or generations of Montgomerys will roll in their graves attitude. She genuinely wanted to make a difference and that was freaking fantastic. He admired the hell out of her, because, yeah, swallowing all the pride to come back to him for help probably choked the air right out of her. He added gutsy and fun to the list of reasons why—
Hell.
—why she’d be worth kissing.
Screw strategy. Screw logic. Fitz was going with his gut. And maybe a part of his anatomy a bit lower, too.
Winging an elbow across the top of the file cabinet, Fitz said, “Here’s the thing. I get that it wasn’t easy asking me to help. Let me make it more palatable. Let me make you dinner.”
Hallie’s eyebrows zinged up faster than the express elevator in the Empire State Building. “Why?”
“Why not?” That logic had worked on her last time. No reason to reinvent the wheel.
Darting to his desk, she grabbed his ceremonial gavel (carved from the canoe of an 1800s Canadian fur trader, if the legend was to be believed) and rapped it on the desk. “Point of order. I’m laying down a ground rule. You never, ever get to use that phrase with me ever again.”
“You enjoy complicating things, don’t you?” Fitz snatched away the gavel and set it back on its stand. No need for her to get comfortable holding it.
The sparkle that had lit her eyes while they…bantered?…snuffed right out. “We haven’t had the smoothest start. I don’t want to risk misinterpreting a comment, getting riled over a friendly joke.”
Aww, hell.
“I’m sorry. Genuinely. I don’t want to say something that makes you feel bad, even by accident. That’s the real reason why I want to have you over to dinner. I owe you.”
“I don’t get it.” Hallie stepped right up to him until the tips of her sneakers butted against the tips of his polished brown oxfords.
“I, ah, regret what you overheard that first day in the stairwell. It was ungentlemanly, and unjustified. It was cheap, unsporting. I’ve been feeling like crap about it. I’d like to make it up to you with an apology dinner. And if you get bored halfway through, it could transition into our first coaching session.” They were close enough that Fitz caught the surprised double-flutter of her long lashes.
