“No, I’m not.” She was adamant. “I’m a good girl. You’re going to break the rules of this place right out of the gate. I know you.”
She was only partially right. I was not going to purposely break rules. But that didn’t mean I was afraid to push things. “Just come on. Don’t you want to take a look around at all the restaurants and bars?”
She hesitated.
“Don’t you want to see the pickleball courts?”
Her sigh was instantaneous. “You know I love pickleball.”
I did know that. Personally, I didn’t get the appeal of the sport. “Come on. We’ll just look around and grab something to eat. I know you’re hungry, and I promised you dinner.”
“Fine, but I’m not eating anything from a raw bar.”
That made me laugh. “We’re on the same page there. We’ll go to the steakhouse or something.”
“Okay, but if you get arrested by rent-a-cops, I’m totally fleeing into the woods and pretending I don’t know you.”
“That’s more than fair.”
2
TWO
“I’m being serious.” I studied Nathan with unrelenting focus. “I’m not being dramatic.”
Around us, people chattered away and ate their expensive salads and wraps as if the world wasn’t about to be plunged into Armageddon.
“Oh, not you.” Nathan laughed and shook his head before reaching for his cocktail. He was the only guy I knew who drank a cocktail with lunch and expected to be productive after. “You would never be dramatic. That’s not in your DNA.”
I wasn’t always great with people—I had terrible anxiety in crowds, which had only grown worse over the past two years—but I could read sarcasm as well as the next person. “Whatever,” I grumbled and went back to looking at the menu at Deer Creek A Coastal Grill, one of the most poorly named establishments I’d ever visited. Fortunately, what it lacked in a name was made up for with amazing food.
“Oh, I love that.” Nathan laughed. “You remind me of teenage Nathan.”
“I’m assuming teenage Nathan was a joy,” I said dryly.
“Oh, he was a complete and total asshat. My mother still holds some of the stuff I did against me. Of course, since I’m a world-famous author now…” He offered a ridiculous wink at a passing woman who perked up at the “author” part.
I managed to hold back my disgruntlement until she’d passed and then made a hand twirl to remind him we were in the middle of a discussion.
“Where was I?” Nathan asked, looking over his shoulder again to track the woman’s progress.
“You were telling me teenage Nathan was a sociopath,” I replied, not missing a beat.
He choked on a snort. “I wasn’t a sociopath. Iwasa pain, though. My mother swears she didn’t think I would make it out of my teens because I was wild … and a real ladies’ man.”
“You were a real ladies’ man at fifteen?”
“I was a real ladies’ man at thirteen.” He winked again, which annoyed me on every level.
“I’m getting the farmer’s market quinoa salad,” I announced.
Nathan’s dark eyebrows hopped. “Wow. Party time.”
I ignored him. “Quinoa is supposed to be really good at cleaning you out.”
“Well, that’s just what I want to think about when I’m eating,” Nathan drawled, shaking his head. “I’m getting the lobster BLT because whoever decided to put those two things together was a genius.” He sipped his cocktail again. “You’re paying too.”
I didn’t argue with him. I’d been the one to invite him to lunch under the guise of talking out a problem. It was only fair I pay.
