“You’re confident,” she says, but it’s not a dig. It’s said with some relief.
“I know what I’m good at.”
“Business?”
And…that’s too tempting. “Business,” I say, lifting my drink, bringing it close to my mouth. But I don’t drink yet. I just make sure her eyes are on mine. “And other things.”
A gust of breath crosses her lips, and she shakes her head, but it’s clear she’s amused this time. “Well, I know about theother things. I guess we’ll have to see how you are at business.”
“It is on,” I say as Esmeralda heads our way with our food.
After she sets down the twin orders, she whispers, “There’s a vibe.”
But before Chloe can protest, she’s off again, calling out to a new customer, “What can I get for you?”
Chloe turns to me with a shrug. “She’s a troublemaker.”
“Takes one to know one,” I tease.
“Very true.”
I pick up a fry. “Let’s see if these are as good as the ones at The Resort.”
“We can rate French fries,” she says with enthusiasm for our new game.
“We can grade the whole meal. You up for it?”
“I’m in,” she says.
And we eat and grade, and it feels like a tacit acknowledgment of that night. But with a focus on a new understanding—that we’re chasing the same business dream.
When the meal is over, I gesture to our empty plates. “What about dessert rights? Are we vying for them this time?”
“Maybe,” she says, eyeing me like she’s sizing me up. “But do we have to say who had the worst day this time?”
“Hell no. Let’s come up with a new challenge.”
“Who’s better at painting?” she offers.
“It’s me,” I say, tapping my chest.
“Please. I aced the corner work.”
“I excelled at the baseboards.”
“I picked fantastic colors.”
“True,” I say, since her place looks amazing. But I’ve got another idea. One that might also help me make better amends for my first day at Dog Tails. “How about who’s better at bringing a treat to work tomorrow? You did the coconut bread last week. I’ll bring something tomorrow, and we’ll see which is eaten faster.”
Her hazel eyes flash with excitement. “I love it,” she says, but lifts a finger. “Only how does that determine who gets dessert rights tonight? Don’t screw me over on dessert, Dumont.”
“I’d never.” And maybe Rebel Me isn’t ready to cede ground to Responsible Me quite yet. I lock eyes with her for a few seconds, breaking the contact to take a quick tour of her pretty face and stunning body. “I’ll give them to you, sweetheart…under one condition.”
She eyes me so damn warily. “What’s your condition?”
I lean closer, catching a hint of that cinnamon scent. Her lotion? Her body spray? Who even knows? But it scrambles my brain a little more. Knocks my sense of resistance looser. “You admit you’re damn curious about whether I had a hot date or not, and I’ll let you pick.”
She wrenches back, her jaw agape. “How big is your ego?”
