He masks his interest behind a cup of coffee, an adequate prop. I smile and keep my eyes on my Kindle. I can’t tell if his eyes are hazel or brown from here, but lord, he has the sweetest smile—perfect teeth and dimples get me every time.

I don’t care what’s happening in Coda—I could be reading about changes to the tax code for all the interest it holds now. Before I can panic and talk myself out of looking again, I hear a throat clearing above me.

I look up. He smiles.

Oh hell. I never stood a chance.

___

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