Just as he got to the menu’s entrée section, he sensed a shift in the room. Looking up, he spied her hovering in the doorway to the dining room. Half in, half out and holding a raincoat that looked only slightly smaller than the oversized one she’d worn yesterday.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed her fumbling around but not actually moving. The entire room did a collective stop-and-stare.

Her hair did him in. Pulled back off her face with stray sexy strands curling down next to each cheek turned a rosy pink from the night air. And the boots. Olive and rubber, stopping just below her knees with a dress that hit right above.

The look totally worked for him.

He stared at her until she stared back. For a second their gazes held and she didn’t move. A bit of the color left her face before she threw her shoulders back and took on that I’m-going-to-burn-this-place-down bravado she shot at him when they met in Ben’s office.

Yeah, good times.

Her eyes narrowed for a second before she plastered a neutral expression on her face and came over to the table. She didn’t sit. Nope, not Maddie. She loomed over him, standing at the edge with a death grip on her coat.

There might be some sort of social guidance about how to have dinner with someone who looked like she’d rather be at a funeral, but he didn’t know what it was. So he went with the safest option. “Hello?”

She glanced at the folded napkin resting on his unused plate. “You haven’t eaten yet.”

“No.”

“You’re still wearing the bandage on your head.” She nodded in his general direction.

“I still have the stitches.”

“How does it feel?”

Since she was biting on her bottom lip and looking wary about his response, he softened the truth. “Much better.”

She hummed before responding. “Interesting.”

He had no idea why that would be the case. “I love these little talks we have.”

“Right.” She spun around and headed back for the doorway.

“Damn it,” he mumbled under his breath as he shot to his feet. In a few steps he stood in front of her, blocking her path but giving her plenty of room to maneuver around him and out of the dining room if that’s what she wanted to do. “That was a joke.”

“I know.”

Almost every sentence she uttered confused the hell out of him. For some reason, that intrigued him . . . and convinced him that he was in even greater need of a vacation than he originally thought. “Then why are you leaving?”

She leaned in and lowered her voice. “I don’t like the staring.”

So she’d noticed. He couldn’t deny it, but he hadn’t meant to make her twitchy. “The dress and the boots. I liked the combination. Kind of cute and—”