Page 25 of Beyond Question

Her shoulders straighten. “I didn’t run.”

“Oh, you’re definitely running.”

“Just because I’m not interested in you, doesn’t mean I’m running.”

“Right.” Pointing a churro at her, I go in for the kill. “Prove it.”

Her eyes tighten at the edges. My girl loves a challenge as much as I do. “Prove what?”

“That you’re not interested in me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Where I come from, turning you down repeatedly proves that.”

“Where I come from,” I parrot, “that heat in your cheeks and the way you can’t hold my gaze for longer than a few seconds proves otherwise.”

She huffs, but doesn’t respond.

Because I’m right and we both know it.

“Stop running.”

“Fine.”

My eyebrows fly up my forehead. “Fine?”

“Yes, Travis,fine.”

“You’ll go out with me tonight?”

“For a drink, nothing more.”

Leaning back in my seat, I flash herthe smile, then bite into a churro, my chest warming with smug satisfaction as she huffs and ducks her head—to hide her own smile.

I’ve won this round and, even though she may not realize it yet, the prize at the end of this game is her, and the winner takes all.

Chapter Nine

Travis

Arriving at the restaurant twenty minutes early, I grab us a table in the bar, skipping the private booths in the main dining area of the restaurant. I think Paige will appreciate the casual feel of this more than she would the intimacy of the booths—even though being alone with her in a quiet, partially secluded space is all I’ve been able to think about since she said goodbye to me last week.

The server brings out our drink orders, and as she sets my rocks glass in front of me and Paige’s stemless glass of rosé at the seat diagonal to mine, I have a moment of panic. What was I thinking? The woman hates old-fashioned shit likeordering for her.

Fuck.

I take a sip of my bourbon while I stare at the wine as if it will bite me.

My datecertainly might.

Grabbing the glass of wine, I stand and walk back to the wait station at the end of the long bar.

My server is beside me before I can even flag down the bartender. “Something wrong with your order, sir?”

I turn toward her and smile. “No, nothing at all. I just… you can leave it on my tab. I’ll pay for it. Just give it to someone else. I can’t keep it.”

She frowns, gaze flicking back and forth between the drink and me. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. There’s nothing wrong with it?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sure it tastes great.” I pause, then quickly follow that up with, “Not that I tasted it. I didn’t. It’s safe. Youcan give it to someone else. It’s clean.” I grimace when she does, embarrassed by my awkward rambling.Fuck me, man. “Just take the drink,please. I don’t want it.”