Page 22 of The Arrogant's Redemption

I have no choice but to turn and thank him, even though I’d rather bolt in the opposite direction. “Thanks. I’m kind of clumsy.”

“And you’re good at hiding what you’re thinking, too.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do I make you nervous?” he asks instead of explaining.

“Um...I didn’t fall out of nerves. I think your skin shocked me. Static electricity.”

There it is again—that almost-smile.

My God. This man is hazardous to my blood pressure.

He’s charming just by breathing—without even trying.

“I was judging you as someone who hides what they think and feel, Alexis. But now you’ve been promoted to liar.”

I choke on my own breath—shocked that he can tell, after only two encounters, that I’m acting ninety-nine percent of the time. “And may I ask why?”

“It wasn’t static. You got nervous when I touched you.”

“I gotta go.”

“Will you book me a table? My cousin recommended a restaurant—I'm guessing it’s the same one.”

“Judging by how you said goodbye this morning, I didn’t think you were the friendly type. What changed?”

“I’m not looking for friendship. I’m looking to eat properly.”

My face burns. “Right. Of course. Well, like I said before, the name of the restaurant isThe Ugly Shrimp. What time should I make the reservation for?”

“Eight?”

“You got it. Have a nice day.”

“Why did you pick that ugly fish?”

I’ve already started walking away, but I stop and glance back. “He’s not ugly. It all depends on who’s looking. To me, he’s beautiful and colorful.”

“I don’t like colors.”

“Well, I love them. Good thing we’re not friends, then, Mr. Jasper,” I say, tossing his own insult back at him and heading off without looking back.

Alexis

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“What do you think?”I ask Badger after two waiters help me hang the multicolored and covered in tiny, mirrored tiles swordfish, right by the entrance.

After my second unexpected encounter with Jasper today, I brought the fish straight to the restaurant, then went home. I came in an hour early just to make sure it would be up by the time “the man who doesn’t like color” arrives, at eight.

It’s my way of saying I couldn’t care less about his opinion.

“If I’m honest, is that going to affect how much you love me?” Badger asks.

I wilt a little on the inside, but as the specialist in hiding my feelings that I am, I smile. “Not even a millimeter.”

“All right, then. Truth is, I have no idea if it’s ugly or beautiful. I honestly don’t care. If you like it, I trust your opinion.”

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