Take a Hint, Dani Brown by Hibbert Talia

Author:Hibbert, Talia
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 978-0-34942-523-8
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2020-06-22T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Zaf wasn’t the only person in the world who’d noticed Danika was kind of a genius. He couldn’t be. For one thing, she had a B.A. and an M.A. and they were letting her get a Ph.D., and that didn’t really happen by accident. For another, journals published her articles, which meant they got it, too. So it must be the people in her personal life who were oblivious dipshits. Clearly, none of them appreciated her enough—not if Zaf admitting he’d read her work was enough to make her wide-eyed and stutter-y.

He only understood about 60 percent of the things Danika wrote, but even that 60 percent made him feel smarter. More interesting. Educated, and all that good shit. She was talented, damn it. Why was no one reading her stuff?

“You’re brooding,” she told him.

Zaf looked up. They were standing in her kitchen, steam rising between them from the boiling kettle. As soon as they’d gotten home, Danika had changed into pajama shorts and that nearly translucent white T-shirt that reduced his concentration to tatters. Barefaced and barefoot, arranging mugs and teaspoons, she looked . . .

She looked like a fantasy he had no business entertaining. Not when she’d made it clear the only relationship she’d bother with was a fake one.

She arched an eyebrow at him as she poured the hot water, and Zaf remembered they were talking. Or Dani was talking, and he was staring at her mouth like some kind of sex-starved animal. Which made sense, since he felt like one.

“Brooding’s kind of my thing,” he told her, and she laughed.

“Is that what the heroes do in those books of yours?”

“For someone who isn’t interested in romance, you ask a lot of questions about it.”

She rolled her eyes—which isn’t an answer, Danika—handed him a mug, and wandered off toward the living room. He followed, and they sat down on her vast, purple velvet sofa, side by side. Close, but not close enough. She could never be close enough. His hands always ached to touch her, and tonight was no different—fuck, tonight was worse. But he wasn’t about to mention it. Changing into pajamas and making tea didn’t really scream Plough me, Zafir, so he wasn’t sure if their whole gentleman’s-agreement thing was still a go. If he wasn’t twice her size and strong enough to throw her around, he might be pushier about it.

But he was both those things, so he kept his hands to himself and looked down at his mug, eying the murky liquid skeptically. “Dan. There’re plants in my tea.”

“Tea is a plant, Zaf.” Her tone was severe, but when he looked up he saw her lips twitch.

“Are you trying to poison me?”

“It’ll help you sleep.”

“Don’t start complaining about my sleeping patterns,” he snorted, “or I’ll stop answering your texts at two A.M.”

“I’d know you didn’t sleep even if we’d never texted.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

Instead of pointing out the bags under his eyes, she said, “You have the energy of a newborn baby.”

He spluttered.

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