Page 41 of Phishing for Love
Aaron looks pained. “Why am I not surprised?”
“What do you mean?”
“Tacos are messy.” He gestures to the piles of papers on my desk. “At least you’re consistent.”
I can’t think of a response to that.
“Favorite season?”
“Fall.”
“Favorite color?”
“Blue.”
Aaron’s blue eyes stare into mine. Not that color blue, I tell myself. More like another blue.
“Favorite memory?”
I swallow. “My sister and I kayaking on the lake.”
Idly, he asks, “Favorite outing for a date?”
I take a breath, let it go. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
He’s still watching me, but his eyes are veiled. “It’s relevant.”
Feeling self-conscious, I brush the hair from my face. “Uh, it sounds weird, but I love picnics. I just don’t get to go on them that often.”
Mostly because Nathan finds picnics unpleasant. He dislikes sitting on the ground and contending with flies and ants while eating food that’s not steak and fries.
In a soft voice, Aaron says, “I don’t think it’s weird.”
I feel oddly flushed. Aaron’s questions are flippant, but there’s an unnerving intensity to the way he’s listening tomy answers. Is he that eager to crack my password? That competitive? I’m competitive myself, so I understand the need to win but, I don’t know, it feels like there’s something else at play here.
Annoyed with myself for overthinking this, I ask, “What next? You want to know my favorite shoes?”
“I know what your favorite shoes are,” he responds without hesitation, his voice sounding huskier than usual.
“Oh. Right.” My sexy-as-heck ankle boots.
I can feel myself reddening.
We both look away.
“Any other questions?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice steady.
He turns to face my laptop. “Nope. I have everything I need.”
He types something into the password input box. To my astonishment, whatever he typed is correct. My laptop opens up, baring itself to him like a shameless hussy.
He’s in.
I gape at him. No. Not possible. I had my win in the bag. What happened?
“I don’t understand. How did you...?” I stumble over my words.
His eyes gleam in triumph as he points to the framed photo of my parents. “Your mother’s name is written in frosting on her birthday cake. You also possess more photos of your mom in your cubicle than anyone else. That tells me how close you are to her.”
