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She laughed. “No, you don’t.”
I leaned back. “How would you know?”
“You don’t hate Brian,” she said, nodding across the room to where he was shoveling ice into a martini shaker.
“Eh.”
“Or me.” Her thin brows drifted up her face.
“That’s only because I don’t know you better,” I said. “Once I realize how capable you are, I’m sure I’ll detest you.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile.
“But you’re right. ‘Everyone’ is a strong word. I’m quite fond of my dog. And most kids are alright.”
“Most?”
“And I definitely don’t hate the tool who drove you to drink here tonight.” I lifted my beer. “Might even add him to my Christmas card list.”
