“Traitor,” I said.
She smiled sweetly. “The barista there knows how to smile. Great customer service. You should try it sometime.”
“Ouch.”
“Just feedback,” she said, taking another sip. “From a concerned customer.”
I stepped closer, dropping my voice. “You sure you’re concerned about myservice,or just the competition?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”
I couldn’t help myself. I had to hear it. Make sure that she cared enough to…well, care.
“Meaning,” I said, pretending to wipe the counter but mostly just inching closer, “you didn’t look all that thrilled when that blonde was talking to me last night.”
Her mouth fell open, scandalized. “You—! You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m not wrong.”
“You areabsolutelywrong.”
“Hmm.” I rested one hand on the counter beside her mocha, just close enough that she had to tilt her head up. “Then why’d you storm out like I’d just committed a mortal sin?”
“I didn’t storm.”
“Strategically left. Right, I forgot.”
She glared. “You are so—”
“Charming? Handsome? Hard to resist?”
“Annoying,” she finished, though her voice had gone softer.
The corner of my mouth twitched. “You keep using that word. It’s starting to sound like a compliment.”
“It’s not.”
“Feels like one.”
“You’re impossible.”
I leaned in, close enough to see the faint flecks of gold in her brown eyes. “You’ve said that before.”
“And it’s still true.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Because you look like you’re about to smile.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
She tried to hide it behind another sip, but the edges of her lips curved, just a little. Victory burned slow and bright in my chest.
“Careful,” I murmured. “If you start smiling, people might think you like me.”
