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“You’re sabotaging the bet,” I say.J’accuse, Winter.
Anthony raises an eyebrow. “Sabotaging the bet?”
“You collect porcelain dolls?”
“They have a separate room in my apartment,” he deadpans.
“You lied.”
He leans back in the chair. “Yes, I did.”
“That goes against the bet. If you’re to get the true Opate experience, you can’t deliberately undermine yourself on dates.”
“I have to be on my best behavior?”
“Yes. Don’t be anything other than what you are. If you keep sabotaging, well…”
“You won’t admit I won the bet fairly,” he says. “Is that it?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. I won’t sabotage any more of the dates.”
“Thank you.”
He leans forward, bracing his hands on the edge of my desk. They’re good hands, I admit. Perhaps I’m not Isabelle with a hand fetish, but… yes. Strong, broad across the back, with wide knuckles and long fingers. They’d probably feel amazing gripping your skin.
“Miss Davis,” he says.
I look up. “Yes.”
“For the record, I told her about my imaginary doll collection to end the date. It was clear to me that we wanted different things, and I didn’t want to lead her on.”
“Oh.”
“I won’t sabotage going forward, but once I’ve determined that the date won’t work out, I won’t waste these women’s time.”
“No, that’s good.” I nod. “I approve.”
Another ghost of a smile on his lips, even if it looks dusty, a seasonal item he rarely takes down from the attic. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Just so I understand you better… what made it clear you two wouldn’t be a good fit?”
He glances from me to the pictures on the wall. The wedding pictures. I still can’t figure out why they intrigue him so much. “I could tell.”
“Right. Well, if you were to elaborate just a smidge?”
He sighs. “She was too serious.”
I just stare at him.
“What?” he asks, a bit testily.
“Nothing. No, that… makes sense,” I say. Isabelle was too serious? Anthony is the most serious person I’ve ever met.
“I’m available when you have decided on a second candidate,” he says.
I can’t help but smile at the phrasing.Candidate.
