Page 15

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Alexis doesn’t seem shocked by my honesty. What I see in her eyes is something entirely different. Admiration? And if so, why? Because I was a brutally honest bastard who told her the chances of her getting hurt are high if she keeps looking at me like that?

“Why would I get hurt? I was just curious about what it is about me that caught your attention. But you don’t need to answer that, Mr. Jasper-who-doesn’t-like-colors.”

“Speaking of colors, you went ahead and hung the hideous swordfish,” I say, taking the out she’s given me and changing the subject. I have no intention of hurting this sweet, precious girl, and that’s exactly what would happen if I acted on the invitation she might be making, even if unconsciously.

“I did it on purpose. I wanted to make sure it’d be up when you arrived.”

I raise an eyebrow, surprised by her frankness. “To shock me?” I ask.

Instead of answering, she pulls a kind of tablet out of her apron. The uniform is hideous but fitted, hugging her sexy hips and tracing her breasts, which seem temptingly large for her slim frame.

I’d have to be blind not to notice the spectacular body she has.

She keeps her head down, pretending to fuss with the device, but I can tell all her senses are trained on me. Despite the faux-casual air, her posture is tense.

“May I go over tonight’s special?” she asks with a sweet smile, one I’m sure she gives every customer, clearly dodging my question.

“Not until you tell me if you rushed to hang that fish just to shock me.”

“I’m not great at polite answers. Since I’m not much of a talker, I come off as a bit combative sometimes.”

“I don’t have a problem with that.”

“All right. I’m not sure if I wanted to shock you or not. Maybe I wanted to show you that the world isn’t necessarily as black and white as you seem to think.”

“I said I didn’t like color. I never said anything about black and white.”

“That’s implied.”

“No, it’s not.”

“How?”

“There are non-color nuances between those two extremes.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who gives a damn about nuance.”

And how the hell did she pick up on that in just three interactions? Alexis seems to know that I pretend to care about the world when, in truth, most of the time I really don’t—even noticing that people are breathing around me is optional.

Who are you, Alexis?

How is a young woman managing to hold my attention better in a five-minute conversation than every woman I’ve ever dated?

“I’m the type who makes firm choices. If I decide I want something, I go and get it.”

I see her throat move as she swallows hard, and I know the conversation has shifted—subtly but unmistakably—from colors to something more intimate. It surprises me. That wasn’t my plan.

I lower my gaze to the menu and try to focus on food. There’s no point in letting this flirtation go further. She’s far too young for me, even for a weekend fling.

“And what happens when you don’t want it anymore?”

“What?”

“You said you go and get what you want. So what happens when you stop wanting it?”

I drop the menu, giving up the pretense of caring about the food, and accept that this sharp-tongued blonde is the most intriguing creature I’ve dealt with in a long time.

In fact, Alexis would be dangerous for a less experienced man. She’s beautiful, sure, but also intelligent. A sharp mind that sees beneath the surface.

“How old are you?”

“Almost twenty-three. Why?”

“I’m thirty-eight. Believe me when I say the answer I could give would crush a few of your dreams. You’re too young to be around someone as cynical as me, sweet Alexis.”

“You said you weren’t interested in friendship, sir, so I’m not at risk of being tainted by your cynicism.”

“I’m not the type who makes friends easily anyway.”

“Me neither. So maybe we’re more alike than you think, Mr. Jasper.”

She focuses back on the tablet and, seconds later—as if I’d just sat down and that whole conversation hadn’t happened—starts describing the special of the day.

I already know I’ll order something without the faintest clue what it is. The food no longer matters. What I’m trying to figure out is why Alexis—with her tomboy-ish manner and her so-called almost twenty-three years—has me hanging on every breath she takes whenever we’re near each other.

Poorly dressed, hair pulled back into a messy bun that looks like it could fall apart at any second—which makes me want to run my fingers through it just to see how it’d fall over her shoulders—no makeup, and not making the slightest effort to hold my attention, despite clearly being attracted to me, Alexis has become, in my eyes, an enigma.

I usually like puzzles, but not when it comes to women. With them, my desires are simple and direct.

“So, sir, what will it be?”

I let my eyes roam her again without saying a word. Her cheeks turn crimson—bright as apples—which tells me Alexis isn’t so innocent after all.

“I suggest the sea bass with tamarind sauce and roasted potatoes. For starters, we have oysters.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“Now I’m confused. You don’t want to be friends, but you’re asking me personal questions?”

“Is it that hard to answer?”

“I’ve been working here since I finished high school.”

“I thought this restaurant was opened recently.”

“No. What happened recently was that a famous magazine featured us, but we’ve been open for over five years.”

“Keep talking about yourself.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m asking.”

“If I were the vengeful type, I’d say I only share personal things with friends.”

“You’re not?”

“What?”

“Vengeful?”

“Oh, I am. Vengeful and spiteful, too. The lie would be the part about only sharing with friends. I don’t have any.”

“How can someone so young not have friends?”

“Were you born thirty-eight? Because according to your words, you don’t have friends either—meaning you were my age once and a loner, too,” she shoots back, and I smile at her audacity.

“I never said I don’t have friends. I said I don’t make them easily.”

“Yeah, fair.” She shrugs slightly. “Well, back to your question. My mom was—is—a fisherwoman, which you probably gathered since I told you I was trying to sell her boat this morning. She used to supply fish to Badger, the owner here. I started doing odd jobs for him, and after high school, I came on full-time.”

“And college?”

“I’m saving up. I’ll be starting soon. Now, please tell me what you want—or you’ll miss out on the daily special. We don’t have many basses left.”

I know she’s dodging because I touched on something she clearly doesn’t like to talk about—and normally, I’d let it go. But I find myself wanting to know more. “Place my order. I’ll take what you suggested. Then come back and tell me about the wines that pair well with it.”

“You probably know more about wine than I do.”

“I want your take on it.”

She gives me a look like she wants to ask the one thing I’m not willing to answer:

Why the hell do I want to keep her here, talking to me?

But right now, all I can say to Alexis, the girl who likes color, who’s got a sharp mouth and a wild glint in her eye, is that at least for tonight, she has my attention.