“Look.” He leans closer and rests one forearm on the bar. “What happened last weekend wasn’t cool. You tricked me. You let me think you were just some random girl, when our families have a shared history, and you know it. Could you imagine if our roles were reversed? If someone took away your ability to make an informed decision like that?”

Yikes. Not only did I lose him, but he’s gone into full lecture mode on me.

I try to school my expression, but it’s hard to resist the urge to roll my eyes. Plus, I can’t help but think that if things had gone the direction they were heading last Friday night, he wouldn’t give a shit who I am or who I’m related to.

“Don’t bother apologizing. Sorry’s not enough. And something tells me you don’t really feel remorse for what you did. You’re just mad you got caught.”

Busted.

“But it doesn’t matter,” he continues his lecture. “Now that I know who you are, we both know what can’t happen.”

“And what’s that?” I ask innocently.

He glares at me with so much heat that I know without a shadow of a doubt he still wants me.

“You know what,” he mutters. He turns and grabs a rag off the back bar, then wipes down the spot in front of me. “What happened last week won’t ever happen again, Maddie. I’ll make sure of it.”

Challenge accepted.

I roll my lips to resist sassing back. Rather than argue with him, I’m going to prove to him just how wrong he is.

“Okay,” I whisper. “But we can be friends, can’t we?”

He stops his wax on, wax off routine, his forearm frozen in the most delicious flex while he gives me a dubious look.

“Okay, fine,” I relent before he can argue. “Maybe not friends. But mutuals? Acquaintances?” I try. “I’m here all summer, and I honestly feel like I don’t know anyone in this town anymore. It would be nice to have a friend… or something.”

His glare tells me I’m pushing it, but I’m hoping he’s too nice to completely shut me down.

“I’m not making any promises. And I definitely don’t trust you, Maddie. But if I see you around town, I won’t blatantly ignore you.”

“How charming,” I quip. When he gives me another disapproving dad glare, I reel it in. “That’s fair. How late do you work tonight?”

“Jake’s off, so I have to close,” he explains.

I know that, of course, because I made fake plans with Jake tonight, only to ditch him at the last minute. I’m nothing if not scrappy when it comes to getting what I want.