“You all right?” Axel is watching me.
“Fine,” I say. “I have to use the ladies’ room.”
Standing, I head to the restrooms in the back, and once I’m inside, I let out a long breath. Oh God, that man is insufferable. Compared to him, Grayson is a gentleman, which is a sentence I never expected to think.
I stand in front of the mirror and look at myself. The blue dress. The hair Brooke spent twenty minutes fixing. All of it.
“It’s one dinner,” I tell my reflection. “You eat, he drives you home, you thank him, you go inside alone. You have survived considerably worse than this. You have to work with the man. You can’t just escape through the bathroom window.”
No matter how tempting it is.
I take a breath, square my shoulders, and push through the door.
And stop dead.
Grayson is standing in the corridor directly across from me, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, looking completely at ease.
His eyes find mine the moment I step out.
“Hi,” he says.
I stare at him. “What in the world are you doing here?”
Grayson grins. “How’s the date going?”
“Wonderfully,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “I’m having a blast.”
“Really?” he drawls. “Sounds like someone is overselling.”
“I’m not.” I don’t know why I get so defensive when he’s around. “I’m enjoying myself.”
He takes one step toward me, and my hand goes up immediately, palm flat against his chest. “I don’t think so.”
“What?” He’s the picture of innocence.
“Don’t. Do not take one more step closer to me.”
He looks down at my hand, then back up. His eyes flicker with an emotion that has my heart skipping a beat, and I pull my hand back like I’ve touched a hot stove.
“You don’t look happy,” he says. “And he didn’t even let you order.”
I go still. “How do you know that?”
And then it hits me. I look past him, down the corridor, toward the dining room. “What are you doing here? Really.”
“Ethan wanted pasta.”
“Grayson.”
“We got a private booth.” He pauses before his grin widens. “It was such a surprise when I realized we could see your table from it.”
“I’m sure it was,” I mutter. “You’re stalking me.”
“Stalking is such an ugly word,” he says with a smile that borders on impish.
“You followed me to a restaurant.”
“We happened to choose the same restaurant.” He shrugs, easy as anything. “Silverpeak isn’t that big.”
