The Checklist by Addie Woolridge (color ebook reader TXT) 📗

would cost more money than either of them had access to, but Dylan imagined defeat on someone like Mike would be more heartbreaking than she was prepared to handle. She didn’t regret her small albeit deeply impractical lie.

“—like the Bezos Center at the Museum of History and Industry.” Mike’s words pulled Dylan back into the room. She’d missed whatever had prompted him to wave wildly at the back wall, but she was pretty sure that if it was named after the founder of Amazon.com, it was expensive.

“Haven’t seen that one either?” Mike tried to mask a look that fell somewhere between offense and pity. “How can you be the child of artists?”

“Don’t ask me questions based on the assumption of normal parentage. My parents think dogs are appropriate messengers.”

“They’re whimsical, is all.”

Dylan threw her free hand over her heart. “Aw, thank you. ‘Whimsical’ might be the nicest way anyone has ever called my family weird.”

Mike shrugged a lazy shoulder, turning back toward the open doors. “What can I say? Whimsy suits them.”

Dylan smirked. “I’m sure you want their whimsy in your life as much as you want a triple bypass.”

“I don’t think your family is nearly as odd as you think they are,” Mike said, navigating back toward the construction light. “The whole feud thing aside.”

“That’s because you don’t have to live with them.” Either she was missing something, or Mike had managed to locate a level of reasonable she had yet to see her parents display. Both thoughts were equally unnerving, albeit for opposite reasons, so she pushed them aside as she stepped carefully to the door, grateful to be away from the uneven flooring.

As they walked back through the hall, she weighed her options. She didn’t have time for a pro bono project. Especially with Jared breathing down her digital neck every fourteen minutes. Still. There had to be a way she could sell using some of her time on this. It was obvious Mike needed help, and she could use a distraction. She’d poke around for a while and write a check to the museum when she left. Nothing massive, but certainly something bigger than “special donor” money. She had basically run Nicolas’s workplace-giving drive for the last two years. How much more time consuming could this project be?

“Maybe you could come up with a list of some spaces I should see? Y’know, so I can get a better sense of what you want to do here.”

“Dylan Delacroix, is this your way of trying to trick me into taking you out?”

“That is not what I am asking.” Dylan rolled her eyes, refusing to let Mike embarrass her again.

“Just checking.” Mike shrugged, putting one hand in his pocket. “You actually want to help? You aren’t just making a pity offer? I value honesty, and I promise I can take it if you really don’t want to do this.”

“I’m being honest. I want to do this.” Dylan’s pro bono scheme was only half-baked, but she added extra emphasis on “want” anyway.

“I know you said you would help. But I figured you’d tell me to open the windows in there and learn how to plug in a light.” Dylan narrowed her eyes, reinforcing the idea that he should choose his next words wisely. “Not, you know, actually invest your time. You have an important job and all.” He exhaled, his other hand dropping to his side.

She let loose a laugh that sounded more like a groan. “Trust me, it is not as big a deal as it sounds. Besides, I might be able to swing this as a pro bono project for Kaplan.” Dylan regretted adding that detail the second it escaped her mouth. Mike’s smile was giving off a glow that rivaled the fluorescents in the hallway. “Don’t get too excited. That isn’t a promise or anything. And you’ll probably have to do most of the legwork—”

“No. No. I’m happy with whatever you can do.” Mike cut her off mid-expectation-management speech. “I’m glad someone else even thinks it is a viable idea.”

Dylan’s mind spasmed. This was hardly a viable idea.

Mike’s excitement saved her from having to develop a response to the room’s usability. “But yes, I can put together a list of places to check out. I’ll drop it by your house next time I stop by my moms’ place.”

“Great,” Dylan said, as much to reassure herself as to encourage him.

Crossing back through the colorful entrance, she dodged a few eager third graders. School had let out, and the space was starting to fill up. Mike looked perfectly at home surrounded by roughly a hundred screaming children. Normally, Dylan would have found the entire thing overwhelming, but between Mike grinning and occasionally waving at kids who recognized him, the museum was suddenly the single most charming place she had ever set foot in.

Hesitating at the visibly sticky door handle, Dylan decided the museum’s charm had its limits. Mike must have taken her reluctance to touch the door as a sign he should open it. Leaning in, he reached around her shoulder to push the handle of the door. The familiar and unusual heat of another body so close sent shivers through her. She stood in front of the open door a fraction of a second longer than she meant to, enjoying the sensation of being near another person. Particularly one who waved at kids and had a jaw sculpted out of marble.

“So I’ll come by later?”

“Yup. Absolutely.” Dylan wasn’t sure if he was asking a question or gently encouraging her to move out of the doorway and stop trying to snuggle with him. She hurried through the door, pretending to furiously dig around in her purse for her keys, as if they were not always in the second-innermost pocket. After shuffling around a lipstick and a few pens for good measure, she pulled out her keys, feigning a look of triumph.

“Thanks for coming by,” Mike said, relaxing against the doorjamb. Dylan decided he probably tossed that same casual, seductive