The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

thousand dollars’ worth of federal grant funding. When she
turned, Dr. Rodrigues was staring at her with his usual boyish
grin—like they were best buddies about to go for a beer and a
jolly good time, instead of a Ph.D. student and a former
member of her advisory committee who’d never quite gotten
around to reading any of the paperwork she’d turned in.
“Dr. Rodrigues.”
His brow wrinkled. “I thought we’d settled on Holden?”
Had they? “Right. Holden.”
He smiled, pleased. “Boyfriend’s out of town, huh?”
“Oh. Um . . . Yes.”
“You going in there?” He pointed at the microscope lab
with his chin, and Olive nodded. “Here, let me get it.” He
swiped his badge to unlock the door and held it open for her.
“Thank you.” She settled her samples on a bench and
smiled gratefully, sliding her hands into her back pockets. “I
was going to get a cart, but I couldn’t find one.”
“There’s only one left on this floor. I think someone’s
bringing them home and reselling them.”
He grinned, and—Malcolm was right. Had been right for
the past two years: there really was something easygoing and
effortlessly attractive about Holden. Not that Olive seemed to
be interested in anything but tall, broody, sullen hunks with
genius IQs.
“Can’t blame ’em. I’d have done the same in my grad
school days. So, how’s life?”
“Um, fine. You?”
Holden ignored her question and casually leaned against
the wall. “How bad is it?”
“Bad?”