Page 13 of Well, Actually
“I’m asking for your time. That’s all,” Cooper continues, his voice a rough pull to my attention. My lips part as I stare at him, the intensity of his look, the tiny furrow between his eyebrows, the sincerity of his smile. All of it creates a building pressure in my chest. “A chance for me to prove I’m not the asshole you remember. Give me six dates to make it up to you.”
“Fuck yourself.”The words burst out of me in a laugh so sudden and violent I clamp a hand to my throat.
Cooper’s eyes twinkle. “Stop being so charming or I might fall in love with you.”
“Fuck yourself,” I repeat, enunciating the words carefully this time. I keep forgetting we’re live. There’s no way I won’t be fired after this. “I’m not going on six dates with you. I’m not going onanydates with you.”
“Five dates,” he counters, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair again.
“None,” I retort, mirroring his pose.
“Why?” Hurt flickers across his features. “Let me make it up to you. I honestly do feel terrible about how I treated you and I want to rectify it.”
“If you’re such a good guy like you claim, why do you need so many chances to do that?” I arch an eyebrow in a way that usually makes men shrink.
Instead, he leans closer, planting both palms on the table as he looks at me, mouth curling up in that uneven grin of his.“That’s how many dates we went on before. It’s only fair I have an equal chance.”
“We went on four dates,” I say automatically, then steel myself against a cringe at how earnest and fucking factual I sound. His delight is indecent.
“Someone was keeping count. Core memories?”
“Only because I’ve had to outsource them to my therapist.”
He tilts his head to the side, the skin around his eyes and mouth creasing with a bitten-back laugh. It’s with a sharp jolt that I realize how close we are, that my chest is leaning across the table, my clenched jaw and pursed red lips only a few inches from his terribly nice smile.
“Fine,” he says, gaze tracing my face, resting for a beat on my mouth before skimming back up to lock eyes. “The truth is, I want all the dates you’ll give me because I’m terrified of you, Eva Kitt. And I know I’ll need as many opportunities as I can get to shake off the nerves and show you a good time.”
Despite my resistance, this pulls a smile from me, sharp and fast, a warmth searing through my stomach. I quickly school my features so the flash of my teeth portrays resentment instead of misplaced glee. “And what do I get?”
“Are seven dates of guaranteed fun not enough?”
“You guarantee disappointment and that’s about all,” I mumble, lurching away from him and collapsing back against my chair, crossing my arms to emphasize my surly pout. Somehow his smile only grows.
“Maybe so,” he says, lifting his palms in surrender. “And you’ll have every right to blast me for it. In fact, we can even debrief on my show after each one. Worst case, you get eightdates to analyze, rip apart, and very publicly explain how much I suck with up-to-date examples. I’m handing you material.”
“What a gentleman.”
He bows his head in false deference. When he looks back up at me, his eyes are sparkling. “But best case, you spend nine dates with someone dedicated to showing you an amazing time. And food.”
“Good food?”
“Whatever food you want.” He gestures broadly like a game-show host. “Your ten dates will be filled with it.”
“Stop counting up,” I snap. “You said six dates.”
“Six dates. You’ve got yourself a deal.” He grabs my hand, pumping it in agreement. I laugh, more from shock than anything, slipping out of his grip and smacking his arm away.
“And what if I just genuinely don’t like you?” I say, watching as he slowly drags the fingertips of his left hand over the knuckles of his right. Something about the hint of control in the movement has my mouth going dry. “I don’t like most people.”
His eyes flash. “I love a challenge.”
I glance again at Aida, and am horrified that William’s joined her, staring at me with commanding force. He nods once, slowly and with authority, an exact mirror of his mom’s during our video call. The barest hint of a promise.
Fuck. I want that job. Need it. If this is what it takes to get it…
But, god, Cooper’s such a shithead—one who isn’t hard to look at, I’ll admit, but a shithead nonetheless. And just theidea of being forced to spend time with him has me wanting to rip out my hair. And his.
He must sense my weakening resolve, because his voice drops to a coaxing rumble. “Come on, Eva. What have you got to lose?”
