The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

and shook his head. “I thought you said they didn’t hurt?” He
sounded curious. Amused? Fond?
“That was ages ago.” Olive picked them up and let them
dangle from her fingers. When she straightened, Adam was
again impossibly tall. “Now I am very ready to chop off my
feet.”
The elevator pinged, and the doors opened. “That seems
counterproductive.”
“Oh, you have no idea— Hey, what are you—?”
Her heart skipped what felt like a dozen beats when Adam
swept her up into a full bridal carry. She yelped, and he carried
her to their room, all because she had a blister on her pinkie
toe. Without much of a choice, she closed her arms around his
neck and sank against him, trying to make sure she’d survive
if he decided to drop her. His hands were warm around her
back and knee, forearms tight and strong.
He smelled amazing. He felt even better.
“You know, the room’s only twenty meters away—”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“Adam.”
“We Americans think in feet, Canada.”
“I’m too heavy.”
“You really are.” The ease with which he shifted her in his
arms to slide the key card belied his words. “You should cut
pumpkin-flavored drinks from your diet.”
She pulled his hair and smiled into his shoulder. “Never.”
Their name tags were still on the TV table, exactly where
they’d left them, and there was a conference program halfopen
on Adam’s bed, not to mention tote bags and a mountain
of useless flyers. Olive noticed them immediately, and it was