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Still smiling, his eyes move over my face in a way that has me feeling like I’m under a microscope.
“Pro tip?” he offers.
I jerk my chin up.
“Their éclairs come out at one o’clock every day. Or they did. Been a few years since I had one.”
“Thanks for that tip. Explains why I almost never get one when I come for dinner but why I sometimes score at lunchtime. I take it you grew up here?”
“Technically, yes,” he says. “When I wasn’t away at school. Nowadays I split my time between here and Cleveland mostly.”
He’s leaning forward, hand still on the book, and he’s looking at me as if I’m the most fascinating creature he’s ever laid eyes on. It’s a strange sensation.
“You don’t mind if I eat here with you, do you?” he asks.
“Oh. It’s… um… fine,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ears.
He moves the book a few inches toward me. “Here.”
“You didn’t have to buy that for me. I wasn’t sure I wanted it anyway. I didn’t leave because I saw you.”
He leans forward even more. “We both know you did, Chloe.”
Heat floods my face, and my mouth drops open at the bluntness of his statement.
“Is it because you feel guilty for being attracted to me?” he asks.
The nerve!
“Who says I’m attracted to you?” I scoff. “Maybe I just really wanted soup. And we had a five-minute interaction. Yes, I recognized you, but didn’t think much of it.”
My face is blazing hot.
He smiles wider again. And it’s almost condescending the way he’s doing it. He’s convinced I’m lying through my teeth. Not that he’s wrong.
“Cocky, much?” I ask.
He leans even closer, so close his face is hovering over my soup. “Much,” he confirms.
Mr. Nguyen delivers Derek’s soup, so he straightens up in his chair and thanks him.
As Mr. Nguyen shuffles away, I take the opportunity to reach for my bag and pull out my wallet with one hand, flipping the book over to see the price with the other.
“Here,” I pull out some money. “For the book.”
He shakes his head. “The book is on me. A caveat though.”
Mr. Nguyen is back, refilling my tea and bringing Derek a cup too so I’m left in suspense until he walks away.
My eyes roll. “A caveat. Of course,” I say.
“I expect a report afterwards.”
He puts his teacup to his mouth, eyes on me while I gawk at him.
“Very funny,” I finally break the awkward silence.
He takes a slow sip and then sets his cup down thoughtfully. “I’m absolutely serious. Book report. Due as soon as possible.”
