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“Are you really not having fun?” She sticks her bottom lip out.

“Is that a shock?” Maybe she really is extremely stupid.

“You’re not what I expected either.” She narrows her eyes, as if she’s trying to decide whether this can be salvaged.

“Yes, sticking around is a big waste of your time.”

“What happened to gritting your teeth?” She snaps.

Maybe she has more insight than I gave her credit for. “I suppose I couldn’t even take my own advice.”

She grabs her purse and stomps off. About three steps later, though, she’s shifted back into her sultry sway. I suppose it’s not very gratifying to stomp in four-inch Jimmy Choos.

Not three minutes later, Bea breezes by, setting two square plates in front of me. “I brought lobster dumplings for Miss Collagen USA, and I brought the burrata cheese and prosciutto salad for you.” She straightens and frowns. “Did she ask someone where the bathroom was?”

“No.” I shake my head.

Bea winces. “I should check and make sure she found it.”

“Is that something waitresses generally do?” I can’t help teasing her a little.

“Well, not usually, no, but. . .” She leans closer and drops her voice. “I was told you’re a VIP, and for VIPs, we’ll do most anything.”

“What if I told you my date ditched me, and I’m now terribly depressed?” I spread my hands across the top of the white linen tablecloth. “Would your boss let you eat with me to take some of the sting away?”

It’s that same laugh again. Short, sharp, high.

I love it. “I’m not kidding.” I hold her gaze.

“She really left?” She tilts her head. “I find that hard to believe, honestly. She seemed ready to challenge me to a duel when I—” Her mouth snaps shut.

What was she going to say? When shewhat? “When you. . .?” I raise both eyebrows.

She ducks her head. “Never mind.”

When sheflirtedwith me? Is that what she meant? Ihope that’s what she’s been doing. Is that really why Chaliesah stormed off? Can she tell I like Bea?

More importantly, is there a chance Bea likesme?

“I’m sure you’re teasing, but I definitely can’t eat with you,” she says. “I’m working.”

“Right,” I say. “Of course. But maybe you could get that to go.” I toss my head at the lobster dumplings. “Then you can take them home and pretend you were eating with me.” Oh man, I’m corny. She’s going to laugh and walk off.

But she doesn’t.

She inhales and ducks her head again, like she’s embarrassed.

That might be worse. Am I harassing my waitress? Am Ithatguy now? Before she has to say anything else, I reach across and grab the lobster puff things and shove them both in my mouth. “Wow. Those are good.”

Bea straightens, her shoulders squaring. “That’s not usually how people eat them.”

I chew, chew, chew, and swallow. The bite is so big it hurts my throat going down, like it’s dragging its hands down the inside of my esophagus. “No?” I cough. “You don’t say.”

There’s the laugh, but at least she doesn’t walk off, and she’s laughingatme, not because I’ve made her nervous or uncomfortable. “I didn’t bring those for you, though.” She tosses her head at the prosciutto and cheese thing. “The burrata’s what you’re supposed to like.”

“You thought Chaliesah would love the lobster dumplings?” I ask. “Why?” I mean, they were good, but they tasted pan fried, and I don’t imagine she eats a lot of oil.

Bea narrows her eyes at me. “Just try yours.”

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