“You’re obviously . . . a fun person.” He vaguely gestures toward her head. It takes everything I have not to thunk my head onto the bar.

“I’d like to think so,” she says. “And you . . . sorry, I don’t remember exactly what you do.”

Really? But she made that wry comment when I mentioned the personal trainer thing a couple of days ago. Could it be she’s just juggling a lot of matches and doesn’t remember the conversations? That’s not a great sign, but it also means I might have to amp up my game to make sure Jude rises to the top.

“Personal trainer,” Jude says genially.

“Right,” Bree says, and then briefly touches his upper arm. “That would explain these.”

Jude smiles at her. Okay, this is better.

“So you’re from Ireland. Wait, no . . .” Bree pauses. “Scotland.”

“Aye.” Jude nods.

“Where in Scotland?” Bree asks.

“It’s a small hamlet near Glasgow called Auchentiber. It’s lovely.”

“It sounds lovely. Well, when you say it.”

Jude smiles. “Thanks.”

You’d think the train was finally leaving the station but, uh . . . nope. Another stall, just about a foot away from where they started. Neither of them says anything until the waiter comes back with their drinks and an enormous plate of cheese slivers that takes up almost the entire table.

“Well, cheers,” Jude says, lifting his glass to clink it with hers. He brings the beer to his mouth, then stops. “Oh, wait. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked if it was okay if I drank in front of you. That was rude of me.”

Bree blinks at him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I just didn’t know if you weren’t drinking because of some abstinence thing or . . .” He trails off his sentence, thankfully not accusing her of being a raging alcoholic.

“Oh, no. That’s not it. I’ve just given up drinking on dates for now.” She leans in and whispers to him. “It’s led me to making some bad decisions in the past. So, cheers. Enjoy.”

“Ah, got it.” Jude smiles at her again and takes a sip.

“Which ones would you like?” Bree says as she takes the cheese knife and hovers it above the plate.

“Actually, I don’t eat cheese. I’m paleo,” Jude says.

“Oh,” Bree says. “So I’m supposed to finish this by myself?”

“I’m sure you can get it wrapped up?” Jude replies.

“Right. Good plan.” She then starts cutting the cheese (literally). She cuts and eats the cheese for a long time without a single interruption: no conversation, no gestures, barely even any eye contact. For all his good looks and charm, Jude needs a lot more help than I thought.