America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(38)

But this plan of taking Sarah home feels wrong. Or maybe I just don’t want to let her go yet.

“When do you have to be at work tomorrow?” I ask her.

“Eight or nine. But I’ll probably go in early to get work done before everyone else is there. It was…interesting today.”

I swing my chair around and study her while the two bodyguards check out the situation in the hall. “Lots of gossip?”

“It’s human nature. But most of my coworkers were polite about it. Although I think some of them think I’m stuck-up now because I don’t socialize much at the office and apparently it’s because I’m better than everyone else since my parents are stars.” She frowns, and I hate that frown.

That frown says that it’s inevitable, and she doesn’t like it, but it is what it is.

“I don’t like not trusting people to not gossip about me,” she says quietly. “It’s the whole reason I never told anyone here who my parents are. Mackenzie’s known me longest. She’s been my best friend since before I knew any of my coworkers. If anyone should be offended, she should, but she’s just rolling with it. The people at work, though…”

I nudge her. “Says you have good taste about who you let in your circle. There’s a reason my best friends are all from home.”

“One of my closest high school friends was the reason the owl thing happened. And I didn’t know it until later, but one of my other supposed friends kept telling the paparazzi when we went to the movies or out for semi-private gaming nights, which was how pictures of me leaving the bathroom with toilet paper stuck to my heel or spilling soda all over myself or sitting with popcorn stuck in my hair always seemed to find their way to the gossip pages.”

“Aw, fuck, Sarah. That sucks.”

She shakes her head, eyes pensive and not looking at me, as though she’s reliving it in her head. “The stories always got more out of control than they thought it would, but the owl story especially. If it had just been the pictures—well, it’s not like I hadn’t lived with that my whole life, you know? But when the gossip rags came calling…she was the one they quoted with all the rumors about what I liked to do in my spare time.”

“You want me to send my mom to your office to give them all what-for? She’s got this speech that would make a saint feel guilty, and they’ll be bringing you fresh chocolate chip cookies and homemade ice cream for weeks.”

She turns a smile on me, and I swear the entire ballpark gets brighter, and the sun set an hour ago. “Like you said, another few months, and nobody will even remember this happened.”

I will.

I will most definitely always remember this happened. “Gonna be late by the time I get you home. You want, I can put you up in one of my spare bedrooms. Just a few blocks over.”

“Sleeping with you is not part of this agreement.”

“Spare bedroom. Hell, you can have a whole apartment. I own the building and keep the floor below mine open for my team, because it’s easier than making hotel arrangements all the time.”

“You own the whole building?”

“Guy told me it was a smart investment once.”

“A random guy. A random guy told you to buy a—how many stories tall is that thing?”

“Forty-six. And he wasn’t random. He was a guy my parents did a lot of work for back in the day.”

She’s doing the fish, which could be a dance move if people put their arms into swimming the way they put their mouths and eyeballs into gaping.

But this is why I’m in fashion and not choreography.

A guy’s gotta have some weaknesses.

“I was diversifying,” I tell her. “And I got it for a steal, since it needed heavy renovations through the whole building.”

“Which your parents did,” she guesses.

“Well, yeah. Nepotism’s important.”

She shakes her head, clearly caught between wanting to smile and roll her eyes. “I’m trying to picture my parents helping to get me a film role, and it’s not working.”

“That’s just because Hollywood’s been lame lately with the real science movies.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Yeah, that’s all the geeks in Hollywood are good for, isn’t it?”

“All clear, Mr. Ryder,” the beefier bodyguard says, saving me from having to dig my whole leg out of my mouth once more. “Let’s go.”

We clap our hats and sunglasses back on, and we follow him while the second guard brings up the rear.

The walkways are mostly deserted except for staff, who are cleaning or nudging along the last of the slow-pokes. All’s fine until we get almost to the valet stand at the executive parking garage.

I can see my car waiting right up front on the street, but there’s a crowd of reporters between us.

“Serendipity! Serendipity!”

“Are you really dating?”

“Over here! Smile over here!”

Sarah grabs my hand while the two bodyguards hustle us through.

“Is this a publicity stunt?”

“Did you know each other before the tweet heard ’round the world?”

“Are you sleeping together?”

“How long have you been dating?”