“I have an answer.”
His expression changed.
Not much.
But enough.
“To what?”
“You know what.”
“I would prefer not to assume.”
I folded my arms.
“You asked me to dinner.”
“I did.”
“My answer is yes.”
For one second, Adrian Kane forgot how to speak.
It was deeply satisfying.
“Friday?” he finally asked.
“Friday.”
“Seven?”
“Seven.”
“Do I choose the restaurant?”
“No.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“You chose my salary for two years. I choose dinner.”
A smile spread across his face.
“Fair.”
—
Our first date was terrible.
Not disastrous.
Worse.
Polite.
Painfully, impossibly polite.
Without offices, presentations, or Mia to provide accidental chaos, Adrian and I became two competent adults trying so hard not to make mistakes that we nearly bored each other.
He asked about my work.
I told him he was not allowed to ask about work.
I asked about his family.
He gave three careful sentences about his father and sister.
