“Like hell, I’m not.”
“You are not. Coming in. With me.”
We glared at each other.
“I mean it, Holden. What did I just remind you of before we got here?”
“You don’t have to remind me again,” he growled.
His nostrils flared as he breathed harder, and I knew I was pushing him to his limit. Then again, he was pushing me to mine.
I tried another tactic. “Listen. I know this is new for us. I haven’t been on a date while you’ve been in my service. There’s bound to be friction when something like this happens.”
“Suddenly you’re diplomatic,” he muttered with a wry, humorless smile.
“I’m trying to be. I can drop the diplomacy in a heartbeat if it would make you feel better.”
“No, no, by all means.” He growled under his breath. “I don’t like him. There’s something I can’t put my finger on.”
“You’ll have to deal with that on your own,” I informed him, flipping my hair over one shoulder and turning my attention to the scone.
I wasn’t even hungry. My stomach was too full of butterflies.
He was real.
And his name was Gentry.
And I felt like a teenager again.