Free How to Get Over Your Ex by Nikki Logan Page A

crossed to them. ‘Are you studying?’
    ‘Espionage through history. I’m getting ready for the spy
class.’
    He flipped one of the CDs over and read the description of the
lectures. ‘You’re doing homework before the class?’
    ‘I like to be prepared. And I’m really looking forward to the
spy classes.’
    One brow quirked. ‘As distinct from the others?’
    Heat rose and consumed her in the tiny apartment. ‘I listen to
them when I’m gardening. On the bus to and from work. Or when I’m walking.’
    ‘You walk?’
    ‘Regularly.’
    ‘Where?’
    What was this, the Inquisition? ‘Anywhere I haven’t been
before. Deep in some wood somewhere.’
    His nod was distracted. He suddenly looked intensely
uncomfortable.
    ‘I bought these with my own money.’ In case that was what was
putting that deep frown on his face.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because your money is for things that interest your
listeners.’
    He turned towards her. ‘You don’t have to hide things from me.
If there’s something you want to do, do it. The money is for you.’
    It wasn’t him she was hiding from. She took the CDs out of his
hands. ‘It’s not... I feel like these are normal me, not new improved me.
Besides, you’ve already indicated that the things I’m interested in aren’t
that...exciting.’ She cleared her throat. ‘For your listeners.’
    His eyes fell on her heavily. Searching and conflicted.
    ‘Coffee?’ she asked just to break the silence.
    He broke free of her gaze, bustling towards the door as though
this were all the most terrible inconvenience. ‘No. I should get going.’
    And suddenly she was feeling self-conscious for agreeing to his request. She followed him back out into the
hall. ‘Thanks for the lift.’
    ‘No problem.’
    He had to stop at the door to the street to negotiate the
intricate series of locks. If not for that, she wondered if he might have just
flown down the stairs and path and been gone. She opened it for him and stood
below the arch.
    ‘And for the restaurant. It was fantastic to see.’
    ‘We’ll find you new cooking classes. You don’t have to go back
to the French guy.’
    ‘The not-French guy...’
    ‘Right.’ He practically squirmed on her doorstep. Confusion
milled around them both. This had been his idea? Or
had she just misunderstood?
    ‘Well, see you next time, then,’ she said quietly.
    ‘OK. ’Night, Georgia.’
    And then he was gone. Not quite running as she’d imagined, but
certainly making good time on those long, marathon legs. Into his car and away.
Expensive tail lights glowing until they turned onto the high street in the
distance.
    And still she stood there.
    OK. That was just weird. Their whole night had been genial
enough, the silence in the ride over here mutual and comfortable. Or so she’d
thought. She’d only offered him coffee, not exactly controversial.
    Modest, plain but well kept . Was
that what he’d been expecting her place to be like? She resecured the front door
and turned off the porch light, then crossed back to her gaping apartment door,
assessing the inside critically. Shambolic but not unclean. She had nothing to
be particularly embarrassed about.
    Maybe he had a plant phobia.
    She sighed. Maybe this was a Year of Georgia test. See how she
was going with the judgement of others. Not well, apparently.
    She cared what people thought. She didn’t run her life by it,
but criticism did impact on her. Especially someone like Zander Rush. Rich,
powerful men might not particularly matter to her professional life, but this
one mattered to her personal life. She had a year ahead of her with Zander, they
were going to be in each other’s faces a reasonable amount. She’d really rather
not have that time be tense and awkward.
    And below that, somewhere deeper that she only peeled a corner
back on, lay her secret fear: that the same lack that made Daniel not interested in marrying her might have occurred to Zander as
he stood here in her little