Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
The door to Theo’s office was closed, and when I knocked, he snapped, “What is it?” There was that unmistakable note of impatience I’d come to expect. It made me grin.
When I opened the door, he looked startled. Then he pulled up an annoyed expression and asked, “What do you want, Lassiter?” Reverting to my last name was such an obvious attempt at distancing himself from me, but I didn’t call him on it.
Instead, I remained in the doorway and said, “Quick question. What’s your drink of choice when you go get coffee?”
His mask of annoyance slipped, just a little. I’d surprised him, and it took him a moment to regain his composure. But then he frowned and said, “You came in on your day off to ask me a stupid question?”
“No, I came in to read to Oscar Harris. The stupid question is just a bonus.” I flashed him a bright smile.
He returned his gaze to the monitor on his desk and muttered, “Go away, and close the door behind you.”
“I plan to, right after you answer my question.”
Theo glared at me for a long moment. I just stood there and waited. Finally, he asked, “Are you seriously going to stand there until I answer you?” I nodded. “And if I choose to slam the door in your face?”
“Then I’ll stand outside it and wait, and you’ll go nuts wondering if I’m still there. Eventually, your curiosity will get the better of you, and you’ll open the door to check. Then I’ll ask you the same thing all over again. I have nothing but time and can wait in this hall for hours, since as you know, I have the day off today. But wouldn’t it be simpler to just answer the question?”
He sighed dramatically and leaned back in his chair. “Fine.” He made that word as sharp as possible. “I prefer a regular cup of coffee with cream and sugar. None of that faux-European trendy bullshit.”
“Excellent.”
I reached beside me and produced a large coffee with cream and sugar. Then I walked up to his desk and put the cup in front of him. “Have a good afternoon, Theo,” I said, before turning and leaving his office.
He called, “Wait,” as I stepped into the hallway—he couldn’t help himself. Theo was an extremely curious person. It was probably part of what made him so brilliant. I turned back to him, and he asked, “How did you bring me exactly the right thing? You couldn’t have known what I’d say. What if I’d told you my drink of choice was a nonfat latte?”
I reached past the doorframe and produced another cup. “I had that covered.”
“What about an iced coffee?” I showed him a tall, clear cup and shook it to make the ice cubes rattle. He looked surprised. “You brought me three different coffees, on the off chance I’d name one of them?”
I pulled the rolling cart I’d borrowed from the cafeteria into view. It was covered with cups. “I brought you fourteen. I went with the most common orders, to increase my odds of getting it right. If you’d gone rogue and named some kind of chai spirulina breve or something, I would have had to go back downstairs, and this would have been considerably less impressive.” I grinned when I said that.
He stared at the cart for a moment. Then he blinked and returned his gaze to me as he asked, “What are you going to do with the other thirteen?”
“There are dozens of coffee-loving nurses all throughout the hospital, and my next stop will be the break room. It’ll be very easy to find takers for the rest of these.” I leaned in and grasped the door knob, then smiled at Theo before pulling his door shut. In my last glimpse of him, he was staring after me like I was a puzzle to solve. That seemed like a win.
Chapter 6
Operation Tame the Feral Cat was working…kind of. On Tuesday, I brought Theo coffee again. I knew what to order this time, so it was a lot easier than the day before.
Then I returned to his office on my dinner break. He should have gone home by that point, but instead he was at his desk, reading something on his computer screen. He looked exhausted. Maybe that was the real reason he didn’t put up a fight when I brought him a meal and sat down to join him, using his desk as our dinner table.
He ate a few bites of the cafeteria lasagna—which was actually pretty good—before glancing at me and saying, “You allow people to take advantage of you. Why do you do that?”
I put down my fork and leaned back. I was in one of the two chairs on the other side of his desk, which I’d pulled close so I could eat my dinner. “How do I let people take advantage of me?”