The door chimed again, and I looked up, half-expecting to see Kirby and Gunnar. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d forgotten something. Instead, I saw Taylor standing next to the hostess podium.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

The double doors swung a few times before they stilled, a sign that Phaedra had excused herself to the kitchen.

“I came to take you to dinner.”

“I canceled,” I said, stuffing my remaining tips in the pocket of my apron.

“I know.”

I lowered my chin, already annoyed. “What is it with you civil servant types? You think that because, historically, women have somewhat romanticized your line of work that you’re automatically guaranteed a date?”

“No, I’m just hungry, and I want to hang out with you while I eat.”

“We’re closed.”

“So?” he said, genuine in his cluelessness.

“So, you have to leave.”

Taylor shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Trust me, I want to. I’m not oblivious to the fact that you sort of hate my guts. Inherently bitchy women don’t appeal to me.”

“Right. You prefer the easy ones who pretend to be progressive by going Dutch, and then they are all too eager to fall in line with the hotshot-groupie stereotype by the end of the night in hopes that they’ll somehow hook you with their impressive blow jobs.”

Taylor choked, stopping just short of where I sat, and he leaned his back against the bar. “You’ve got me all figured out, don’t you, Ivy League?”

“Pardon?”

“Were you a psych student? Are you trying to maybe shake me up a bit by analyzing my violent temper and then throwing in a few Freud quotes for good measure? Trying to make me feel inferior with your academic prowess? Let me guess. You went to Brown? Yale? Big fucking deal. I might not have a graduate’s degree, but I went to college. You don’t scare me.”

“Dartmouth. And community college doesn’t count.”

“I wholeheartedly disagree. I have a bachelor’s in business and a master’s in women’s studies.”

“That’s insulting. You haven’t been within a hundred yards of a women’s studies course.”

“That’s just not true.”

I blew my bangs away from my face, exasperated. “Women’s studies?”

He didn’t flinch.

“Why?” I seethed.

“Because it’s relevant.”

My lips parted, but I snapped my mouth shut again. He was serious.

“Okay, I was kidding about the master’s, but I have taken a couple of courses geared toward women’s studies. I’ve found the reading material is on the right side of history.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I might be a civil servant type, but I’m educated. I went to Eastern State University in Illinois, and it’s a damn good school for its size.”

“Wait. Did you say Illinois?” I swallowed away the sudden tightness in my throat.