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"Irish?" She tried to sound confident, but she could still hear the question mark lingering on every syllable.

"Hazelnut. Good try, though. Valiant." He had the nerve to yawn.

"Fine, well if it's so easy, what do I like in my coffee?" Rachael said.

"You like the French roasted coffee, but you'll drink Columbian. Never decaf unless you're planning on napping in the middle of the day and hoping I won't catch you. Then you usually add French vanilla creamer. If we have it. Sometimes you'll drink half and half, but when you're on a diet you drink skim milk. By the way, in case you were wondering, the skim milk thing is disgusting." He arched a defiant brow.

She had half a mind to stick her tongue out at him in response. Damn, he was seriously not kidding about being observant. "All that proves is that you're a stalker. And that your secretary makes the shopping list for the kitchen." Rachael said, trying to hide the sinking feeling of doubt that was already settling in her stomach. Maybe she hadn't given him enough credit.

Nearly enough credit.

"No, that just proves that we've had coffee together every day for a year. Who doesn't notice something like that?"

"I don't need your lip. It was a lucky, um, extremely accurate guess. No big. Let's keep rolling." Rachael waved Natalie on.

"Well, at least you guys already sound married, so you've got that covered." Natalie smirked.

"Enough with the commentary, let's get this popping," Rachael urged. Geeze, like it wasn't enough to be mercilessly bludgeoned on the first question. Now she had to watch the slow-mo replay.

"Okay. What is your partner's favorite movie?" Natalie looked at Garret.

"How am I supposed to know that? I thought this was based on what we were supposed to have known already."

"Her relatives aren't just going to ask you what you observe while working with her. So... make a guess." Natalie shrugged.

Garrets brows knit together and he began mouthing words Rachael couldn't quite make out. Simultaneously, he was counting something on his fingers.

"I didn't ask you how old the movie was." Natalie said.

"I know I'm thinking. And I'm pretty sure it's Dirty Dancing." Garret looked triumphant again.

"Nope." Rachael said. Too quickly. She’d decided during his internal planning session that she would say no regardless of what he said. Out of thousands of movies, he would never have guessed the right one.

And it took her a long minute after she’d denied him that she realized he’d actually given the correct answer.

How would he have been able to figure that out from working with her? She never strutted into his office and asked him to meringue with her or anything. She'd never even made a "Nobody puts baby in the corner" joke. Her stomach twisted with apprehension, worried that her office was bugged or maybe he actually was a freaking stalker. Either way, it made her feel…naked.

"Then what is it?" Garret crossed his arms.

"It's, um, Happy Days." It was the first thing that had come to mind, and she was already trying to hide the urge to bang her head into the fridge when Natalie spoke up.

"That's a TV show."

"No, there was a select release film. About the show. Richie and Fonzie go, uh, horseback riding and… well, it's a long story, but it's my favorite. So there." There was no way that didn't sound like an out and out lie, but her friends let it slide.

The down side of which meant that they were both staring at her, waiting expectantly for another answer.

Garret's favorite movie? It had to be like, Citizen Cane or Good Will Hunting, right? Something acclaimed and smart. Something dry. But those were a little obvious. So...what movie most reminded her of Garret?

He looked a little like Ben Affleck, so that was something. Barely.

She decided to just go for broke and blurt out the first film she could think of.

"Weekend at Bernie’s," she leaned back in her chair, trying to look casual. She probably, in actuality, looked like she had a cramp, but she could live with that.

"Nope." Garret shook his head, "I haven't even seen that movie."

"So what is it?" She pursed her lips. It was probably Dead Poet’s Society or something smart like that. Something a CEO would like. Maybe a golf documentary.

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