Good answer. I set the plates on the table. “Have a seat, and I’ll grab everything and bring it out.”
“You don’t have to wait on me. The least I can do is carry the dishes outside. You are feeding me, after all.” She led the way inside and picked up the two salad bowls.
Resigned to the help, I grabbed cutlery, napkins, and the bottle of wine and followed her back outside. Once seated, I turned myattention back to her. “What do you mean, guys want the prima ballerina?”
“I don’t know. The guys I meet seem to have this picture of who I should be.” Natalie shrugged. “Usually I don’t measure up.”
I gaped at her. How the hell did she not measure up? That didn’t seem possible. “What kind of assholes are you dating?”
“How do you know they’re assholes?”
I just looked at her with my brow raised. There was really no need to answer that question.
She snorted. “Okay, yeah, most of the time they are assholes.”
I nodded. “Obviously.”
She cocked her head to the side and studied me. “Why do you say that?”
“Because look at you.”
Her smile turned sad. “That’s what I mean,” she said.
I held up my hand. “No, hear me out. Yes, obviously you’re hot, that goes without saying, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“What are you talking about then?” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest as if she were expecting me to say something she wouldn’t like.
“I don’t imagine you’ve changed that much since I saw you last, so I’m going to factor that into this as well.”
“Okay, this should be good,” she muttered.
I rolled my eyes at her. Yep, same ol’ Nat I remembered. “I don’t imagine you can get to where you are in your field by being lazy or undisciplined.”
“Of course not,” she agreed.
“You’re a woman, on the backside of your twenties.”
Her eyes narrowed, and I grinned. That one hit a nerve.
“So, you probably have younger women gunning for your job on the daily, and yet you’re still at the top of your game. You stillhave the lead in every performance you’re in, which tells me you probably work harder and longer than anyone else.” I looked at her for agreement.
“True.”
“You’re in peak physical condition. There isn’t an ounce of fat on you, which tells me you’re willing to sacrifice things most people aren’t willing to sacrifice.”
“Yeah, most guys don’t like that,” she mumbled.
“Most guys don’t like what?”
“That I’m so regimented in what I eat.”
“You don’t seem that regimented to me.” I eyed her empty plate. The girl could put away a piece of protein.
“This is my offseason. I don’t normally allow myself wine.”
I shrugged. “So?”
“So, when I go to fancy parties and refuse to have champagne, apparently that’s embarrassing.”
