He shrugs again. “I’ve always had a thing for redheads?”
I guess I should be glad he’s truthful, but it’s not what I expected to hear.
“What do you want me to say? When I saw you that night I was instantly attracted to you, but then we spent a night drinking together. I realized you were complex for a girl who wears an evening gown like she was born to wear it.”
“Exactly how much do you think you like me?” It sounds like Grant is trying to figure me out and that is not a good thing.
Grant smiles. A teeny tiny dimple forms in the crease of his right cheek — something I’ve never noticed until now. “Exactly as much as you don’t find creepy.”
I laugh at his playfulness. At least I hope he’s joking. Grant finishes his second slice of pizza, but rather than reach for a new one off the tray his arm snakes across our table and he touches a piece of my crust.
My fingers fly out and I slap the back of his hand, the crust dropping back to my plate. “What are you doing?”
Grant looks at his hand baffled. “I was planning to eat your crust. You hadn’t eaten them yet.”
Men.
“That’s because I save the best for last.” Where does he get off touching my food? On my plate.My plate.
Grant leans back with both of his hands raised, palms out in an “I surrender” move. “I’m so sorry. It will never happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.”
Grant laughs, the cute tiny dimple not so cute anymore. He obviously doesn’t understand how serious I am about this food thing.
“What’s so funny?” I ask with attitude.
His face turns serious as he says, “You are different than any girl I’ve ever met. I might not have figured out why I like you, but I want the chance.”
“And why should I give you the chance?” Not that I plan to give him a chance.
“I have no idea.” He laughs again. “I haven’t done anything to make you think I’m a good person, but I haven’t done anything wrong either. Give me the opportunity.”
“A chance for what?” I still don’t see what Grant is going to get out of this.
“To become your friend. The chance to be in the same room with you for more than two minutes before you make an excuse to leave.”
“Just friends?”
“For now.”
“Grant….” The sentence trails off, but my annoyed eyes finish the thought.
Once again, rather than take my warning and abrasive attitude the way they’re meant, the man laughs like I don’t bother him at all. “I’m giving you a warning, Clare Cunningham. You’re going to fall head over heels for me. I’m irresistible.”
That’s doubtful.
