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"I know you keep scrunching up your mouth. And you’re tapping your foot a mile a minute."
"Maybe I have a nervous condition."
"Wouldn't that still mean you were nervous?" He tilted his head to the side.
"I—You—" She groaned. "I'm not nervous."
"Suit yourself, but for what it's worth, I believe in you."
She rolled her eyes. "That means a lot from the guy with the vodka cranberry."
"I don't need my drinks to prove I'm a man. I've got plenty of other things that do that for me." He said the words as casually as ever, but there was an edge to his voice that made heat surge to her cheeks and blood pound in her ears.
She squeezed her thighs together again, hoping he wouldn't notice, then popped one of the ice cubes from her cup into her mouth.
"So," she said, trying to focus on the droplets of water as they melted against her cheek.
"No, no, no. I have a question for you." He sipped on his drink, but when a waitress walked by he flagged her down. "Could I have another for the lady, please?"
He pointed to the green dregs of Natalie's cocktail and the waitress grinned stupidly at Brooks much like every other female in the breeding pool.
"I said--" She started, but he cut her off.
"Nope, I have a question."
She sighed, waiting.
"Why do you hate me?" He pushed his drink away, then watched her.
Almost like he'd asked her her favorite color rather than a deeply uncomfortable question.
"Um, I don't know how to answer that."
He shrugged. "My mother always told me honesty was the best policy."
"Well, honestly..." She thought back, trying to pin point the one second she'd decided Brooks was her nemesis. "You called me Natasha for a month. And then, the month after that, you called me Nora. Then I'm pretty sure you never said my name again until after I started working for your brother."
"At which point you'd already decided you hated me," he interjected.
"It's not that I hate you."
It's that you terrify me.
It's that you remind me of someone that I used to know.
It's that...
She cleared her throat. "So, how do you picture this whole thing working?"
"This whole thing?" He asked.
"You know, this whole, um, seduction thing you've got going on." The waitress sat her new drink in front of her, and though she'd promised herself not to touch it, she sucked it down, grateful for the distraction.
"I have a room upstairs. Eventually, we'll go up to it."
She nodded, then stared into her drink as she asked, "when is 'eventually?'"
"When you're not nervous."
