Page 31 of Resisting the Grump

“Thanks,” she said, her eyes crinkling at the edges.

“And not just because we mightn’t have met otherwise.”

S E V E N T E E N

- Avery -

I couldn’t help but like him. Even if I discounted his good looks, he was undeniably charming. No doubt he was on his best behavior, but I’d met enough assholes to know he wasn’t hiding a despicable personality under his dashing demeanor.

He hadn’t been impolite or impatient, hadn’t put me down to big himself up. He even ordered the house wine, which really surprised me. I would’ve bet anything a guy like him wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to swirl his glass pretentiously and do the whole sniff-and-spew-sommelier-speak charade, but he skipped it entirely.

Granted, that wasn’t exactly hard proof that he had nothing in common with the entitled jerk he played on TV, but reality TV was excessively produced these days. Maybe he was no more the villain he played on primetime than I was a pigtail-wearing brownie bitch with nothing on my mind but pouring perfect caramel.

Not that I’m a fan of two-faced behavior, but if I had to choose between discovering a nice guy was an asshole or discovering a frog was a prince, the latter was certainly a better surprise. Obviously, the dream would be meeting someone whose temperament was consistent, but I had no reason to believe that existed in the animal kingdom.

“So why are you single?” I blurted, unable to resist the urge to interview him even though I wasn’t technically hiring for any official positions… though that hadn’t kept me from imagining him in more positions than I cared to admit.

“Because I haven’t met the right person,” he said before helping himself to an oyster.

“There’s a stock answer, if ever I heard one.”

“I’m not blowing you off,” he said, resting his fingers near the stem of his wine glass. “It’s just the truth.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh.” Was that a weird question? I felt like people asked me that all the time, but now I had to wonder if he had a weird growth on his penis or a closet full of dresses or skeletons or both.

He sighed like he could tell I was dissatisfied with his answer. “I’m single because my ex and I broke up.”

“Equally vague.”

“I know, but I wanted to clarify that it’s not my singledom that I’d rather not talk about.”

“It’s your last relationship?”

He nodded and reached for his water.

Meanwhile, I wondered if the place served oxygen. “Any pets?” I asked, eager to restore the gaiety we’d been enjoying earlier. Please don’t tell me your dog just died.

“Yeah,” he said, like he hadn’t quite shaken the black cloud my previous line of questioning created. “A cat.”

“You didn’t strike me as a cat guy.”

“I’m not a cat guy.”

I squinted at him. “Yet you have a cat.”

“A lot of people who have cats aren’t cat people.”

I squinted at him.

“Cats are very persuasive,” he continued. “They’ve been charming their way into people’s lives since Egyptian times. Plus, it wasn’t my idea.”

Oh, shit. No wonder the question hadn’t cheered him up. “Sorry. I was trying to change the subject.”

“Don’t apologize. No sense keeping the cat in the bag.”

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