She didn’t know what it said. But she did know they were now staring at each other like mooning teenagers, which was the sort of ridiculous behavior she should put a stop to.
As if he’d read her mind, Zaf looked away and cleared his throat. “I should . . . I really need to talk to someone about that lift. And—”
“And I have things to do,” Dani said firmly. “Cupcakes to eat, research to continue.”
“First aiders to visit,” he added, “about that wrist.”
“Yes,” she lied through her teeth. Professors didn’t knock off work after twinging a wrist, so Dani certainly wouldn’t. She didn’t have the time to waste, anyway. Symposiums to prepare for, and all that. Inez Holly waited for no sprain!
Zaf stared at her, dark eyes narrowed.
“Yes,” she repeated, attempting to look trustworthy. “Absolutely. First aid. Medical professionals. Et cetera.” As Gigi always said, Men are much less time-consuming when you lie.
Except, apparently, for this man. “If I find out you haven’t had that looked at, you’ll be in deep shit.”
“Duly noted,” she said dryly, which was impressive, considering she was in fact extremely wet.
Zaf sighed and took her over to the little wall surrounding the building’s flowerbed, setting her gently down as if she really was injured. “I mean it, Danika,” he said, propping her rucksack by her feet. “I’m watching you.”
But when he turned to find his supervisor, she was the one watching him. Specifically, his arse.
She had to take some pleasures, after such a stressful day.
Dani did as she’d been told. Sort of.
Her wrist was aching quite a bit, and if it got any worse it might slow down her typing speed. So she popped some painkillers and went to her older sister Chloe’s house at the end of the day.
Their youngest sister, Eve, answered the door, a smile on her face and a single AirPod in her ear. “Dan! I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“Yes, well, here I am.”
“You changed your hair again. We match!” Eve flicked one of her own pastel-pink braids and shut the door behind them.
“Wonderful,” Dani murmured, slightly distracted. Memories of being held tight against Zaf’s chest had haunted her all day, and after failing for hours to escape the bastards, she’d decided to let them simply wash over her.
Now she was all hot and shuddering inside like her battered old laptop, so distracted she almost missed Redford, Chloe’s boyfriend, calling, “Hey, Dani,” as they passed the room where he painted.
“Hi, Red,” she called weakly, and walked on into the living room.
“Dani!” Chloe, the eldest Brown sister, perched on a throne of cushions and blankets formerly known as the sofa. Chloe would tell Dani to buy a new laptop, because she didn’t understand that old technology could hold character and luck. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she said now. “Eve’s been boring me to death—”
“Hey!”
“With Pinterest boards and Instagram hashtags and all sorts of rubbish.”
“You are both jealous,” Eve sniffed as she sat down, “because I am the youngest, but neither of you have ever been wedding planner of honor before.”
Dani briefly considered investigating that baffling statement, then decided it was better left ignored. Holding up her wrist and attempting to look forlorn, she said, “I hurt myself.”
“Darling! What happened?”
“I got trapped in a lift.”
“What?” Chloe stood so abruptly that her cat, Smudge, almost fell off his seat on the arm of the sofa. “Do we need to sue someone? Mum’s been quite bored lately, I’m sure she’d enjoy it.” She bustled off to the kitchen without waiting for an answer and returned with a mammoth first-aid kit.
Chloe had seen so many doctors over the course of her life, she was practically one herself. Sort of. Years of rigorous study and training aside. So, five minutes later, Dani’s wrist was wrapped up in some sort of gauze, her bag was filled with borrowed ibuprofen, and she was sharing her thrilling tale of lift extraction.
“My,” Chloe murmured, her eyes wide behind the blue frames of her glasses. “Well. This Zaf fellow sounds wonderful.”
“And handsome,” Eve piped up, although her focus was on her phone.
“He is,” Dani agreed, settling down on the sofa. “I think—”
“And strong,” Eve went on.
“Well, yes. He’s very—”
“He looks a lot like that hockey player, don’t you think? The Canadian one everyone was thirsting over last month.”
Dani, who knew nothing about Canadian hockey players or sportsball-type people in general, glared at her little sister. “And how would you know what Zaf looks like?”
Eve held up her phone. “I’m watching the video of him rescuing you from the building on Twitter.”
Dani opened her mouth, then closed it. Took a breath to speak, then expelled it. Ran through a thousand different interpretations of that relatively simple sentence, then rejected them all. “I’m sorry,” she said, quite calmly, under the circumstances. “You’re watching the what?”
“I,” Eve said slowly, “am watching the viral video that just popped up on my Trending page, which is tagged #DrRugbae, and features a very huge and handsome security guard identified as ex–Titans star Zafir Ansari, carrying a pink-haired woman who looks rather like you, Danika, out of that ugly building where you work.” Eve looked up and batted her lashes, the mischievous little cow. “Haven’t you seen it?”
“Give me that!” Dani snapped, and lunged for the phone.
“It’s my phone!” Eve grunted, trying to hold it out of reach. “Get your own!”
“You know I don’t have Pinterest or Instagram or whatever the hell you’re—oof.” They both toppled off the sofa, and Eve’s AirPod fell out. While she looked around for it in the mess of pink braids and tangled limbs, Dani snatched the phone and crawled across the rug.
“I’m so glad,” Chloe said, “that we have all grown into such mature adults.”
Dani didn’t bother to answer. She was too busy scrolling up and down Eve’s phone, trying to find
