Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(26)

“So I have one thing going for me.” I take a bite of my salad. “Where are you from?”

“Portland, Oregon. What about you?”

“Minnesota.”

She chuckles. “Not the same thing.”

“Not so much.”

“Do you have any siblings?” she asks.

“I have a sister,” I say. “But we’re not super close.”

“Yeah, I don’t have any siblings.”

“What about childhood? What did you like to do?” I ask, fishing for any commonality now.

“Take pictures of moss. Collect stickers. Pretend that the sticks I found were a wand, and I was Hermione Granger.”

I pause and glance at her. “You’re a Potter head?”

She grips the edge of the table. “Please, for the love of all that is holy, please tell me that you’re a Potter head as well.”

“Eh, not so much.”

She groans. “Ughhh, really?”

“No, I actually am.”

“Stop, are you?” she asks.

“Yes, and I read some of the books when they were first released. That’s how old I am compared to you. I have some first editions.”

“You’re a liar,” she yells, excitement bustling in her eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yes, they’re my prized possessions. Have you been to Harry Potter World?”

“No,” she bemoans. “But when I graduate, I plan on going. I’m assuming since you’re rich and can do whatever you want when you’re not playing, you’ve been?”

“I have.”

“Is the butter beer everything I think it would be?”

“And then some,” I answer. “Harry Potter World is probably one of the best things that has ever happened to fandom. It feels so real.”

“Urrghh, I’m so jealous. Did you get sorted into a house?”

“Yeah, Gryffindor.”

“Of course. You seem like an overachiever. I know I’m Hufflepuff through and through, and I’m damn proud of it.”

“Do you ever feel bad for people who get Ravenclaw?” I ask. “No one ever talks about it. Gryffindor is clearly superior, Slytherin has its own merit because it’s evil, and then Hufflepuff is for all the fun-loving people. What about Ravenclaw?”

“You know, now that you mentioned it, I don’t think I ever hear anyone claim they’re from Ravenclaw. That’s sad.”

“It is.”

She tilts her head to the side. “I think we figured out what we bonded over.”

I scratch the back of my head. “Yeah, the guys will love that. Harry Potter. They always make fun of me for being such a Potter head.”

“Aw, poor baby. The boys are picking on you.”

“It’s rare,” I say. “I’m usually the one being a dick.”

“Is that so?” she asks. “From what I’ve seen, you seem quite sensitive.”

“I’m not sensitive,” I defend. “That would be Posey or Holmes. I’m anything but sensitive.”

“Okay, keep telling yourself that.”

“Why the hell do you think I’m sensitive?”

She holds up her finger. “First of all, it’s not a bad thing to be sensitive. No need to shed some toxic masculinity between us, thanks. Second of all, you are sensitive. If you weren’t, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. If you were truly the dick you claim to be, you wouldn’t care about Sarah being around the arena or what the guys think. Maybe your problem is you don’t like to be vulnerable. Therefore, you attempt to hide it by being a dick.”

Jesus.

Is she sure she’s in lifestyle journalism and not psychology?

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s what’s going on.”

She chuckles. “Okay, keep thinking that.”





“Do you really, in all honesty, like that picture?” she asks as she stares at a piece of art hanging in the dining area. The dark blue paint has been smooshed into the canvas. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, just a bunch of texture.

I shrug. “It does the job.”

“And what job is that?” she asks while picking up another piece of pizza and dabbing the grease off with a napkin.

“Aesthetic. Brings color into the space.”

“Is that what you think, or is that what your interior decorator thinks?”

I take a sip of my water. “Who says I used an interior decorator?”

Her lips fall to the side in disbelief. “Please. Sure, this might be the nicest place I’ve ever been, but I’m not stupid. Your decor screams professionally done. Nothing in this space is personal. Your apartment could really be anyone’s home.”

“I know,” I say. “There’s a reason for that.”

“What’s the reason?” she asks.

“Everything I had that was remotely personal involved Sarah, and I didn’t want that in my new space. I wanted a fresh start.”

“Ah, that makes sense. You wanted to eliminate her from your life.”

“Exactly.”

She studies the space again. “Well, you could use a picture of yourself here or there.”