"Very well." She nods and glances between us. "In the meantime, can I get you started with drinks?"
I speak up first. "Martini. Vodka. Extra dirty."
"I'll do an old-fashioned," Miller tells her.
"We received a rare Whistlepig Boss Hog since your last visit if you'd like to try it, sir." She stands there with her hands behind her back, her posture strong and confident despite her fidgeting fingers. Is it Miller making her nervous or me? Surely if celebrities like George Clooney frequent this place, too, she should be used to being star-struck by now.
But I don't think it's that at all.
"Yeah, I'll try that, too. Neat, please."
She smiles and bows her head. "I'll be back with those drinks shortly."
The second she's out of earshot range, I lean across the table. "That girl has a massive crush on you."
Miller’s brows wrinkle together. "She does?"
I laugh. "Um, yeah. It's obvious. Boys are so oblivious."
"Hm, I didn't even notice." Miller takes the napkin off the table and places it in his lap.
I repeat what he's doing and when I'm finished, he's staring right at me.
"Do I have something on my face?" I ask him.
He shakes his head slowly. "No." He lets out the softest breath.
With my elbows on the table and my hand resting in my hands, I think back to our conversation last night. "Did you get that super vague work thing figured out?"
Miller's hand twitches like he's restraining himself from making a fist. "No. It's more of an ongoing situation. Something that can't be remedied immediately."
"That's unfortunate."
"It is, yeah. It's costing the company a lot of money."
"Can I help?" I throw out the offer even though he'd never involve me in that line of business. Not even my best friend will discuss it with me, let alone someone I barely know.
"Are you a mind reader?"
I narrow my eyes and focus with great intent before saying, "Nope, sorry, just tried and didn't work."
His lips turn up into a smirk, and my heart flutters.
"Damn," he says.
"Speaking of..."
Miller pours some water from the carafe I hadn't even realized was sitting on our table into the glasses. He does mine first, and then his. "I'm also not a mind reader, if that's where you're going with this." He brings the glass to his mouth and takes a drink.
"How did you know I had a pine nut allergy?"
Miller doesn't seem to react, instead, he lowers the glass on the table and says, "I didn't. I have one."
"You do?"
"Mmhm."
"And the waitress, who happens to be very much into you, never asked you before?"
