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“You in the market for a home?” Lars impersonally asks, turning what should feel like a date into an interview.
Then again, aren’t they really the same shit in the beginning?
Folding my hands together in my lap is done during my reply, “Not anymore.”
He makes a wincing face. “Credit issues?”
Why is that his first assumption?
And how offended by it am I allowed to be?
Like call him out on his shit or just throw water in his face and tell him to fuck off?
“Why would you assume I have credit issues?” I cautiously inquire, nails digging into my flesh to help me stay calm.
“It’s just the reason most people stop looking for a home. Credit or financial issues, which are really one in the same. I just assumed that’s what you meant by ‘not anymore’.”
Unconvinced but willing to accept his attempt to fix his mistake is what leads to me retorting, “Better to ask than assume.”
Lars enthusiastically nods. “Yeah. You’re right. You’re absolutely right. My mistake. I’m sorry.” The words are so rushed that there isn’t even time to make them believable. “Why are you no longer looking for a home?”
“Because I found one.”
“That…makes sense.” An overdramatic slow head bob is given, and his next question is right on its heels. “Who was your realtor?”
“Nix Wagner.”
Unhappy groaning is accompanied by a sneer. “Of course, it was.”
“Rival?”
“He’s,” Lars tugs at his tie, “becoming that way.”
“You don’t like the competition?”
“Does anyone?”
“Competition can be healthy,” Tate casually comments upon his arrival back at the table. “It can inspire drive.” His eyes cut me the smallest glance. “Hunger.”
Suppressing the urge to whimper suddenly becomes the most important thing I’ve ever done in my whole life.
Okay, fine.
The most important thing I’ve done today.
It’s been a slow one.
Beauty of having the day off with no pressing chores to do.
“Your imported cabernet sauvignon, sir,” our waiter states at the same time he places the glass in reach for my date.
Lars only offers a grunt in gratitude.
And that’s two.
Two reasons of offense and like the saying from my favorite sport goes, “Two fights, that’s your night”.
Huh.
