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“You need to tone it down. This isn’t a date, but you’re still oozing sex appeal. I’m embarrassed for you.”
“We can’t have that.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and Agnes could have sworn the temperature in the room shot up.
“You’re still sitting here,” she said, her voice sounding strangely husky. “Shoo. Go sit over there.”
“Agnes, I’m not sitting on the other side of the room because you find me irresistible when I’m not even trying.”
“I didn’t say I found you irresistible, just distracting.”
“And embarrassing,” he added helpfully. “Maybe you should eat with your eyes closed and solve the problem that way.”
She shook her head. “I’d still hear you and smell you.”
“And I sound and smell sexy too?”
“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously. I’m not attracted to you. I’m just embarrassed for you. You need to rein it in.”
“I appreciate the advice.” But he still didn’t move.
With a grunt of frustration, Agnes attempted to focus on her meal.
Logan honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun having dinner with a woman. She was priceless, and she wasn’t even trying. She genuinely wanted him to move away because she found his ‘sex appeal’ annoying. Agnes gave the word hangry a whole new level of meaning.
“So.” Logan leaned back in his chair as he toyed with the stem of his wine glass. “Tell me about yourself.” Now that she’d gotten some food into her, she didn’t look quite as feral as she had when she’d first turned up on his doorstep. The woman wasn’t taking care of herself. And for the sake of everyone around her, she really should.
“What is this? A job interview? I’m already employed,” she said with a frown as she dug into her meal.
“This is what most people call polite conversation, Agnes. It generally occurs between two people who’re sharing a meal, and it doesn’t mean anything other than we’re civilized. You can do this. I have faith in you. We’ll start with something simple. What’s your favorite color?”
He fought to stop from laughing when she rolled her eyes. “Can’t we talk about politics or religion instead? Something where we can have a decent debate.”
She meant an argument. It seemed the food hadn’t quite kicked in enough to mellow her out, and she was still looking for a fight. The whole thing was so damn funny. “No, we can’t debate. We’re keeping this light. It’s called small talk.”
“I don’t like small talk.”
“I’m going to take that as a sign you’re feeling better just because you didn’t say you hated it.”
Her lips twitched as though she wanted to smile but wasn’t quite ready to give up her mood just yet.
“Okay, I’ll start. My favorite color is green. And yours is?”
“Did you know that’s the favorite color of most serial killers?”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that true?”
“No.” Forgetting she was irritated with him, and the world in general, she flashed a mischievous smile. “It’s orange. And my favorite color is cornflower blue.”
His heart thudded loudly in his chest at the sight of her. She was gorgeous when she was in a bad mood, but a playful Agnes was breathtaking. As the waitress swapped out their plates for dessert, he kept his eyes on the woman opposite him, watching her mellow as her belly filled. Feeling an irrational pride at being responsible for her mood.
“Okay then, what’s your favorite food? Mine’s haggis.”
The horrified expression on her face was priceless. “Nobody’s favorite food is haggis. We just eat it because we’re Scottish.”
“Cross my heart.” He made the gesture. “I love haggis. Your turn. What’s your favorite?”
“I can’t answer. I’m too traumatized over finding a Scots person who loves haggis. Please tell me you hate bagpipes. At least give me that.”
