Page 79 of The Unfluencer

“Okay,” I say, pouring myself a cup and adding a generous serving of creamer before I lift the mug to my lips. “I’m just following your lead, but I seem to recall that part of your promise was some great conversation for us to get to know one another…”

Warner glances over his shoulder with a lopsided grin, like he knows I’ve been sitting here enjoying the view of his thick thighs and cute butt. “I did say that.”

“You did.” I smile. “How about twenty questions. Ten each. No fluff.”

He chuckles, flipping a charred flour cake, sending buttery smoke billowing into the air. “Straight to the deep, dark secrets, huh?”

“Literally.” I laugh as I search the cabinets and drawers for plates and silverware. “I’ll go first.”

“Is this a trap?”

“Maybe.”

He swipes the back of his hand across his forehead, leaving a white, dusty trail. “Okay. Ask me anything you want.”

Anything?

“Okay, one. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure this out. You’re supposedly the quiet recluse, always dodging reporters and avoiding public spaces. Yet you agreed to come to the exhibit opening, right?” I take another sip from my mug, wincing at the bitterness.

“Sugar?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Warner chuckles, handing me a small porcelain container. “Go on.”

“So, who’s the big, bad guy who had you running for the hills to escape him? Rather, hiding in the restroom at the gallery?” I ask.

“Zeek Harrison.” He doesn’t hesitate, simply blurts out the name. “I saw you talking in the corner. Question two. Are you joining the Luxe Ladies cast?”

“Wait, wait, wait. Don’t even try it. You can’t just glaze over your answer.” A full-body laugh rocks me. “So, you said y’all had history. Not the kind worth repeating, if I’m remembering correctly.”

He nods. “Yes. Is that question three?”

“Oh, I see what you’re doing.” I can’t stop smiling as I set out the plates with napkins and silverware. “So Zeek was right outside the restroom, and you rushed in with a perfect stranger to avoid him because he sent over an off-market offer for the full collection.”

“Yes, that’s your⁠—”

“No, no, that wasn’t a question, it was a recap.” I flit a glance to the stack of blackened pancakes, stifling a laugh. “And to answer your question, Zeek has asked—more than once, including that night at the gallery, during which he actually tried to get me to sign an NDA about being invited to join the cast—but rest assured, I have no plans to ever join Luxe Ladies. Not my scene.”

“Because…” he presses, eyeing me.

“Please save all questions until your turn.” I mark an imaginary tally in the air.

He barks out a laugh.

We’re like this for the next two turns, toeing dangerously close to double-edged fluff with him piggybacking off my questions. I ask his favorite lazy-day pastime, and Warner answers kayaking for the quiet time to think, then, completely unoriginal, turns the same questions on me. Puzzles and my Edge of Adventure survival classes for the same “nurturing my peace of mind” reasoning. But he doesn’t even bother downplaying making fun of puzzles as an old-time hobby, nor unnecessary doomsday classes that I’ll never use.

“Don’t knock it until you try it,” I say, but I’ll admit, my competitive side immediately gets activated.

And then it’s a rapid-fire volley.

“Five. Favorite restaurant?” I lob the ball back into his court.

“Cibo Nero. Six. Favorite music?” He wastes no time, turning off the burners.

“Probably a good idea, considering how those turned out…” I tip my chin to the charred pancakes, loving this playful competition, and really, the fact that he can hang. “Good choice on Cibo Nero. Same. And smooth R&B. Seven. Are you on social media?”

“I’m better with pasta, which is why I’ve got a chef for the hard stuff, but since he’s gone…” Warner grins and tips his head to the side. “But no, not too big on social media. I’m only on Resumé for professional networking. Eight. Same question.”