“Ezra,” he says after several uncomfortable moments.
“What?”
“Ezra. My name is Ezra.”
Ezra. I test his name in my head a few times. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. It suits him, though.
“I’m Summer.”
Okay, that wasdefinitelya twitch of his lips.
“I know,” he says. “Summer Anne Turner.”
Great. Guess he didn’t miss my dad’s little speech earlier.
I bet Ezra thinks I need to grow up too.
I twist my lips to the side, crossing my arms over my chest as I narrow my eyes at my new boss. “Look, whatever preconceived notions you have about me, you’re wrong. I—”
“I don’t.”
“Pardon?”
“I don’t have any preconceived notions about you. How could I? I’ve spent all of five minutes with you, and most of those minutes included your father, who pulled me overagain. If anything, I have preconceived notions about him.”
“My father is a good man.” I notch my chin higher.
“Tell that to my lawyer, who keeps having to handle all these tickets.”
I snort out a laugh. “You say that like this is all his fault and not yours. You were the one behind the wheel. You were the one speeding.”
“Because it feels good. I wasn’t causing any trouble.”
“Pretty sure doing over twice the speed limit invites trouble.”
“Not if you’re a good driver,” he argues.
“Say that to the teenager who isn’t paying attention or the single mother who takes her eyes off the road for one second.”
“That sounds like a them problem.”
“And you sound like an ass.”
Both of Ezra’s dark brows rise.That’s it, Summer. Insult your new boss before you’ve even started work. Good idea. This is definitely you growing up.
Instead of yelling at me, he laughs, and it catches me off guard.
“Yeah, I guess I am.” He runs a hand over his five o’clock shadow. “Look, Summer,” he says, and I try hard to ignore how much I enjoy hearing my name roll off his tongue, “we really do need help at Stick Taps. While you’re certainly not my first candidate, if you know how to pour a drink, then I guess you’ll do.”
“Gee, thanks. I feel so welcomed,” I deadpan.
Another lip twitch.
I sigh. “Okay, fine.”
“Fine,” he echoes. “Monday?”
“Monday works.”
