“What’s that?”

“To stop being such a liar.”

We keep our stares locked on each other. Neither of us blinks, both locked into this unspoken staring contest. My eyes begin to burn, but I refuse to yield.

When you’re a woman working in a male-dominated field, you have to prove yourself all the time. This is no different.

Someone nearby shoots off a party popper. Bradley blinks and I grin. “I win.”

“That doesn’t count. It wasn’t a real competition.”

“You don’t have to say something is a competition to know it’s there.”

Awareness dawns on his face. “You’re talking about the New York client.”

“Maybe I am.” I take another sip of champagne. “We’ll have to hope merit wins out.”

“So you’re okay with me getting the account?”

I scowl, which only makes him smile more. “You know I’m every bit as good as you are at leading excursions.”

“If only we could settle this quickly. How are you at arm wrestling? Or playing pool?”

“You really want to make this a bet?”

“Why not? We both know that we’re equally matched with doing our jobs.”

That’s maybe the closest thing to a compliment that Bradley has ever given me. Well, that and saying I looked good earlier. But, of course, I look good. I’m wearing a curve-hugging dress and Angela gave me a smokey eye.

This compliment—one about my skill and prowess in our industry—means more.

“I suppose a bet is as good of a way to win the client as any,” I say. “But not something silly like a game. We need something that will take work and follow-through.”

“Work and follow-through.” He scratches his beard. “Hell, the last time I heard someone say that, they were talking about setting New Year’s resolutions.”

“New Year’s resolutions.” I roll my eyes. “Who still bothers to set those?”

“You might.” A light sparks in his eyes. “If it was for a bet?”

I recoil. “You want us to use New Year’s resolutions as our bet?”

“Why not?”

Unfortunately, I can’t come up with a reason. Because, honestly, I can’t come up with a better suggestion for this bet of ours.

“So, we each set a few resolutions and see who is doing the best after a week?”

“I’ve heard it takes 21 days to set a new habit,” Angela chimes in out of the blue.

“Okay, so starting on January 2”—I toss out, factoring in the potential headache I might have tomorrow morning, and Bradley murmurs in agreement—“And ending on January 22, we compete to see who is best at following their resolutions.”

“That works for me,” Bradley says. “We only have one thing to figure out.”

“What’s that?”

“How are we going to make sure the other person is following through?”

“I don’t know.” I lift a shoulder. “We could post an update every day to social media.”