Page 13 of The Charming Checklist
“Look at my face.” She pointed. “Shock.”
“You know about the first woman. On the second date, a grandmother showed up to screen her granddaughter’s dates. The third woman got up every ten minutes to brush her teeth. The fourth woman couldn’t even look me in the eye and said two words to me all night. She wasterrifiedof me.”
He’d had four dates in three days! “You do have a slightly intimidating look about you.”
“What’s so intimidating about me? I’m big, but so is Cole.”
“You remember the shaken-not-stirred reference? Can you actually kill someone with your finger? Because you look like you would happily do it.”
He scrunched his eyebrows. “What does that mean? You think I look like a hiredassassin?”
“Face it, you’re a grump.”
“Am not.”
“Oh, puhleeze.” She crossed her arms.
“Okay, I’m in a bad mood sometimes. But people are stupid.”
“And that’s no reason to bemean.”
“Not everyone can be as happy as you are with a simple ribbon-cutting ceremony.”
Ouch.That hurt. He sounded vaguely like her older brother James, the snob.
A ribbon-cutting ceremony. How quaint.
“Sounds vaguely grumpy, Mr. Grump. Because I’m such a cheerful person, that means I have a boatload of friends. Think about it.”
“I have, and that’s why I’m here. What do you say?”
“You’ll go to my birthday dinner, pretend to be my boyfriend and impress my parents. And all I have to do is find you the perfect wife. It doesn’t sound like an equal trade-off.” She made a face. “One is for a single night, and I’ll find you a lifetime of happiness.”
He nodded. “Fair point. Anything else I can do for you?”
The thought came to Ava swiftly. “Now that you mention it, I could use a little help with my business plan.”
“Let me see it.”
“Now?” She wasn’t ready.
Maybe he’d make fun of her plans. A few changes here and there and she might be ready to show it to Mr. Smarty-Pants. She still had to present it as the final project in her business class and maybe get some more suggestions there.
“Sure. I’ll take it home and give it a read tonight.”
A small part of Ava wanted to keep her plan buried in the desk drawer where it would be safe from ridicule. But she’d come to understand that if she wanted her dream to come true, she might have to accept a little constructive criticism along the way.
Little rivulets of fear ran down her spine as she pulled it out of the drawer. It felt as if she was handing over her precious baby to a big, bad monster.
“Be nice.”
He quirked a brow. “Beniceor give you solid advice? Which would you prefer?”
“Um...solid advice.”
“Good answer.” He flipped through the papers, appearing to scan them briefly. “A coffee shop.”
Every muscle in her body tensed to granite and she got ready to swing and fight. To give him hell for making fun of her. It was one thing for her family to ridicule her, another thing for Max. They weren’t related by blood and she’d be damned if she’d put up with it. Uh-uh. No way.
