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Jason cleared his throat next to me, and I cut my eyes to him over the delicate glass.
“Going in tonight, huh?”
I ignored him.
“Might want to hydrate.” He pointed to my water with his knife.
“Bold move, telling a complete stranger what to do.” By nature, I tended to be contrarian, and I wasn’t holding back with Jason. Everything about him irritated me, from his tone of voice to the way his knee bumped against mine. Guys like him always took up so much fucking space. I hated it.
He twisted in his seat, fixing a congenial smile on his face that didn’t quite fit. “You better eat. You’re going to get sick.”
I clucked my tongue. “I don’t eat things with a mother.”
“Don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian.” He pursed his lips like he might laugh, and I hated him even more for making me notice his mouth.
I set down the empty champagne flute with a thunk. “I’m vegan.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
He shoved a piece of bread into his mouth, saying something under his breath that I didn’t catch, but I knew it wasn’t complimentary. His jaw worked as he chewed, and I forced my attention away from the shadow of stubble on his chin.
One of Caroline’s friends leaned forward across the table. “Gemma, your mother told me you’ll be the maid of honor.”
“Yeah.” I nodded, plucking up a stalk of asparagus with my fingers to bite it.
“Aren’t you excited? Weddings are so fun, and with your mother as the bride, I’m sure everything will be beyond elegant.”
“I’m sure.”
The woman’s smile melted at my deadpan response, and she went back to her food.
“You don’t sound too excited.” Jason elbowed me like we were buddies. We absolutely were not.
I offered him a wry smile. “Fourth time’s the charm, right?”
When he studied my face, I refused to shrink under the weight of his eyes. “Did anyone ever tell you you’ve got a bad attitude?”
“I’m sorry, I think I misheard you?” I tilted my head, aiming my asparagus at him. “It sounded like you said I have a bad attitude.”
“You’re being a little rude.” He narrowed his gaze at me like I was a misbehaving child, and a flash of heat scorched my spine. All I could see was red. But this asshole went back to cutting up his food as if nothing had happened.
“Iam being rude?” I shot back in a whisper-shout. “Don’t you think calling me rude is a little rude?”
He considered me with one squinted eye before pointing to his plate with his fork. “You should try this. It’s so good.”
I clenched my jaw, annoyed with myself for not being able to squash my confrontational impulses and tired of him for continuing to play this stupid game. And for looking so goddamn good while he did it.
With each forkful up to his mouth, the muscles in his arm tightened and released. The veins in his forearm and hand stuck out, strong and masculine. A damn shame.
“I wonder if this chicken had any little eggs in her nest. Or maybe a rooster at home,” he mused.
I reached for a roll, fantasizing about stuffing it down his throat. “Don’t antagonize me.”
“Is that what youthinkI’m doing?” He flashed me a crooked grin, calling back my unfinished words from a few minutes ago, but this time, I didn’t take the bait.
Instead I settled for silence.
