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So, no matter how nice we play, Aiden poses a real threat to my job. To the foundation I’ve poured my heart and soul into.
Does he not see that?
It appears not, based on that stupid, goofy smile he’s been sending my way all week. I’m not an idiot. His flirting has not been lost on me. And honestly, under other circumstances, maybe I’d give him a shot. He is, I have to admit, attractive. His hair is dark and slightly wavy, and he has this five o’clock shadow that somehow still makes him look put together and manicured.
Aiden waves at me through the window of my car, pulling me from my daze. I grab my purse off the passenger seat and hop out. I shoot him a tight-lipped smile before following him inside the bar.
It’s a nice place. An upscale restaurant with an extensive cocktail menu. Not exactly the kind of place I was expecting. I do most of my socializing in dive-bar-type establishments.
The restaurant is pretty busy, so we opt for seats at the long bar that stretches across almost the entirety of the main room. Fancy spirits and liquors line shelves along the wall. Aiden settles in, leaning his elbows against the countertop and flagging down a bartender.
“A gin and tonic,” he says, then gestures to me.
I stutter for a moment, not quite sure what I want, then I answer, “A cabernet if you have it.”
The bartender nods and heads off.
We sit in an awkward silence for a few heartbeats. I fidget in my seat, glancing around. I feel Aiden’s gaze on me, and I turn to see that familiar smile on his face. Almost like a smirk. Like he’s amused about something. It sends a wave of frustration through me. What the hell is he smiling about?
Even more annoying, he seems able to read my mind, because he chuckles. “You seem irritated,” he observes. But instead of looking worried over that fact, he simply seems entertained.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. The bartender returns then with our drinks, setting them in front of us and then hurrying away.
I grasp my glass of wine, bringing it to my lips in order to avoid an answer.
“Am I really that annoying?” Aiden presses, his smile growing.
I sigh quietly. “You’re not annoying.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Then what’s with the attitude?”
I widen my eyes. Did he really just say that? What the hell is wrong with this guy? “I—I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I stutter.
He chuckles again. “Oh, come on. You think I haven’t noticed the cold shoulder you’ve been giving me ever since I arrived?”
“It’s called professionalism, maybe you should take notes.” The minute the words leave my lips, I realize how harsh they sound, and I’m suddenly worried. After all, Aiden could get me fired on the spot if he wanted to. But that worry is quickly replaced by irritation again when he throws his head back and laughs.
I purse my lips, staring down at my glass of wine.
“You are professional, I’ll give you that,” Aiden says. “Very dedicated to your job, it seems.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Of course not.” He shakes his head. “Just an observation.”
“I care deeply about the work I do,” I clarify. “Those art workshops can change kids’ lives. Give them things to look forward to, skills—making them happy. It’s important.”
Aiden pauses for just a second before nodding. “I see your point. I mean, it’s why we set up the foundation in the first place. Look, I’m not the bad guy here.” He holds out his hands in surrender.
I unclench my jaw. Maybe I should go easier on him. Maybe he’s right.
“My presence doesn’t necessarily mean bad things for the foundation.”
But that word nags at the back of my mind. Necessarily. He’s not promising anything.
“Tell me about you,” Aiden surprises me by saying. He leans forward against the bar, taking a sip of his gin and tonic.
“Me?” I repeat hollowly.
