Page 20 of Resisting the Grump

I arched a brow.

She clocked the confusion on my face and waltzed over to the cooler a few feet away, returning with four glass bottles, each of which was filled with unnaturally bright liquid.

I watched her set them in front of me, carefully spinning the labels towards me. “Grapefruit, Lemon & Ginger, Blackcurrant, and Clementine.”

I blinked at them.

“They’re surprisingly refreshing.”

The Warhol-esque labels were undeniably eye-catching, but the alien brightness of the liquid set me on edge.

“And not nearly as sweet as they look,” she said. “In case you’re worried they’ll clash with whatever else you have a craving for.”

Was she trying to get me riled up? “What’s your favorite?”

She searched my eyes like she hadn’t heard me, and I held her gaze, wishing I’d asked her a more interesting question.

“Sorry, what did you say?” she asked, prying her eyes from mine and casting her lashes towards the soda between us for a moment.

“Do you have plans for dinner?”

Unfortunately, she blurted “blackcurrant” at the same moment. It wasn’t that unfortunate, though, because the way she blushed made me feel hot all over.

“I’m supposed to try this new place,” I explained. “And they always bring me too much food.”

Her lips pulled towards a smile.

“Not that I’m suggesting you come out to nibble my scraps.” Shit.

“I take it you’re not interested in the soda?” she asked, ignoring my question.

“No, I am,” I said quickly, sliding the Clementine flavor towards me.

She returned the other bottles to the fridge, and I used the break in conversation to collect myself. It had been a while since I invited a woman to eat food with me, but I couldn’t recall ever having been totally ignored.

“Would you like something sweet with that?” she asked, gesturing towards the glass case to her right. “I’m sorry we don’t have a wider selection. If you’d come earlier—”

“The triple chocolate layer cake looks nice.”

“Great choice,” she said, pulling a small box from under the counter.

“I meant the whole cake.”

She paused and looked back towards the glass case. “It’s missing two slices already.”

“Are the other six not for sale?”

“No, they are,” she said. “I just thought… since you have dinner plans.”

“So you did hear me?”

She slid the remaining cake from the case, and the shiny icing was so chocolatey it was almost black. “I’d offer to let you enjoy a slice here, but since we’re technically closed…” She glanced at the other diners like she was sending them subliminal messages to chew faster.

“To-go is fine,” I said, watching her make a box and lower my cake inside. Lord knows why I bought the whole thing. I had no one to share it with and enough excuses to spin. Then again, having something to look forward to might make my trip to the “world-class” salad bar more bearable. “If you don’t want to have dinner with me, you could just say so instead of being rude about it.”

Her eyes flashed up at me, the whiskey-colored flecks in them sparkling. “I don’t want to have dinner with you.”

“I don’t believe you.”