Page 57 of Camera Shy

She points both fingers at me. “You know something? College was useless for me. Everything I’ve learned that’s helpful for my job, I taught myself. All college got me was a mountain of student loan debt.”

“I can empathize,” I say. “My degree is in economics.”

“Oh.” She cringes. “I’m sorry.”

I snort. “And marketing is more interesting?”

“My degree isn’t in marketing. It’s in—”

Our waiter arrives in a huff, cutting Avery off. “I apologize for the wait, Mr. Harvey…Mrs. Harvey.”

Avery shoots me a pointed look, almost demanding I correct him.

What is it with this girl? So she clearly likes me, but the idea of being with me repulses her? What the hell?

I hold out my hand, gesturing across the table. “This is my friend, Ms. Scott.”

He flushes. “I am terribly sorry. Can I get you another drink, miss? Our signature cocktail for the evening has dark rum and Tahitian vanilla bitters. It’s quite popular.”

I raise my brow at Avery and she smirks back.

“No, thank you. I need my head this evening.”

I freeze and watch our waiter’s face turn beet red.

“Pardon me,” Avery says with a sly smile. “I mean, I need to keep my head this evening. Just water, please.”

“And you, Mr. Harvey?” The waiter pulls the oversized menus from underneath his arm, but I hold up my hand to stop him.

I’m not in the mood. We’ve been waiting too long. We should’ve been wrapping up dinner by now. Avery and I should already be back at my place…studying.

“Water is fine. We’re ready to order. The southwest rolls, but not with the mango salsa, with the pickled cilantro slaw. Then the pot stickers with the duck sauce, the crab fritters, not too spicy, and for dessert, raspberry tiramisu. Don’t split it. One plate, two forks is fine. Bring it out individually as it’s ready, no need to wait.”

“Of course, sir. Great order.”

We both wait until the waiter is out of earshot and talk at the same time.

“You said head on purpose, didn’t you—” I start.

“What the hell was that—” she also begins.

I rub my brow with one finger. “Ladies first.”

“Why is everyone here so skittish around you, Griffin Harvey the third? What’s up, Finn? What aren’t you telling me?” There’s a glint in her light eyes, eager to hear a juicy secret.

A secret I really don’t want to share.

I shrug. “My grandpa owns this restaurant. Apparently, that translates to I can get anyone here fired, which is not true, nor would I want to.”

“Oh.” Avery runs her fingertip across her lips as she contemplates my response. Even her nails are painted in a light pink. She really did go all out tonight.

Was that for me?

“I don’t mean to sound spoiled here, but then why did you have to call and make a reservation and why did we wait at the bar for so long?”

I let out a deep breath and sink into the tufted booth. “My grandpa owns a lot of places on the Strip. I try not to play the Harvey card. But I invited you out and I just wanted to treat you to a nice evening. I get the feeling you don’t get taken out a lot.” I don’t know what I said wrong, but I sure as hell said something wrong. Shit. Her eyes hit her lap immediately and I scramble. “I didn’t mean that no one would ask you—”

“No, no,” Avery replies, her eyes still down, “it’s fine. You’re right. I haven’t been single in years, and Mason and I were homebodies.”

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