Page 19 of If It Can't Be Us

That’s heavy.

I study her for a moment, noticing the way she’s fidgeting slightly and avoiding eye contact. People don’t just drop that casually unless it’s a coping mechanism. Defense. Deflection. I take a deep breath, feeling a mix of curiosity and concern.

She breathes and attempts to smile. “My turn again,” she says, without giving me a chance to respond.

Noah interrupts, removing the empty plates. “Do you want another round?”

I can definitely go another round, but she shakes her head. “No, just the check, please.”

“Put hers on my tab, Noah.”

“You don’t need to do that. It’s not a date.”

“It’s nothing,” I say. “I have genuinely enjoyed your company. Plus, I get a discount.”

“You got it, boss,” Noah says as he walks away.

“Wait,” she says, confused. “Boss?”

“Oh… right. Did I forget to mention that I co-own this place?”

She looks like she’s piecing something together in her mind.

“I guess, technically speaking, if one were looking for someone to”—I make air quotes—“‘bang’ for special treatment… it would be me.” I flash her a victorious grin and take one last swig of what’s left of my drink.

“Very clever,Boss,” she says laughing, tapping her wine glass. Damn, she is witty, I’ll give her that. She puts agame onlook on her face and proceeds.

“Alright, Mister”—she makes air quotes—“I don’t date,just how many women have you slept with?” She thinks she’s got me.

Laughing, I reply, “Shit. The hell if I know.”

“That’s not an answer!”

Meeting her stare, I shrug. “A lot,” I say. “Too many to keep count, nor would I want to. Are we satisfied?”

“Not really,” she replies coolly.

“Are you jealous, Walker?”

“No, I’m not jealous. God!” She’s flustered and I find it extremely sexy. “I’m just trying to gather information about you, and you’re being vague.”

“Well, I can’t give you a number because I genuinely don’t know, but if you need a ballpark figure to satisfy this curiosity of yours, then I can say it’s definitely well into the hundreds. Which hundreds, though? That, I couldn’t tell you. Does that help?”

Her eyes go wide. “Yes, it does.” There’s no judgment on her face, thank God. Instead, she looks surprised, maybe even amused? I’m not sure.

“Alright,” I say, rubbing my hands together. “It’s my last question. Are you ready? I’m determined to win.”

“I was born ready,” she says smugly, crossing her arms and legs. “Bring it.”

I place down my last one-dollar bill along with my last twenty and say, “You’re intelligent, witty, and fuckinggorgeous. Why areyoustill single?”

She hesitates. “I appreciate you saying that. It’s really kind of you. Wow,” she breathes out, her eyes widening. “You don’t make it easy, do you?” She leans forward, unwavering, staring me down. Christ, her eyes are captivating.

I meet her gaze, searching those beautiful, rich green eyes with intensity. I’m struck by them. I don’t want to look away. They suddenly become misty; she blinks and breaks our gaze, looking away.

“I fold,” she says somberly, and kicks back the last third of her wine in one large gulp.

FUCK.

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