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“Like hell, I’m not.”

“You are not. Coming in. With me.”

We glared at each other.

“I mean it, Holden. What did I just remind you of before we got here?”

“You don’t have to remind me again,” he growled.

His nostrils flared as he breathed harder, and I knew I was pushing him to his limit. Then again, he was pushing me to mine.

I tried another tactic. “Listen. I know this is new for us. I haven’t been on a date while you’ve been in my service. There’s bound to be friction when something like this happens.”

“Suddenly you’re diplomatic,” he muttered with a wry, humorless smile.

“I’m trying to be. I can drop the diplomacy in a heartbeat if it would make you feel better.”

“No, no, by all means.” He growled under his breath. “I don’t like him. There’s something I can’t put my finger on.”

“You’ll have to deal with that on your own,” I informed him, flipping my hair over one shoulder and turning my attention to the scone.

I wasn’t even hungry. My stomach was too full of butterflies.

He was real.

And his name was Gentry.

And I felt like a teenager again.