as cold and mechanical as that pile of metal and wires you're always tinkering with."
"I'm not cold," I argue. "Or mechanical. At least, not in bed."
Adam rolls his eyes. "Right. You're only cold and mechanical when you're walking out the door right after you get out of bed."
I glance at him. "What's with you? You'd think that after we finally invented something groundbreaking and got the bugs ironed out, you'd be in a good mood. We're going to be millionaires!"
"You know I don't do good moods."
Sulky, cynical Adam. Well, I've had enough of it.
"That's because you don't do." I lean towards him and lower my voice. "Dude, you need to get laid."
"Who says you're the only who's been getting some?"
My chin falls. Seriously? I thought he was all work and no play.
"You, on the other hand, won't be getting any tonight if you just sit there," he adds.
Before I can ask what he means, I catch a glimpse of the redhead I've been keeping tabs on from the corner of my eye. Walking away with car keys in hand.
Fuck.
I shove my empty glass into Adam's hand and jump off the stool. Then I follow my prey out of the bar.
She heads to the parking lot, to the silver Toyota sedan parked next to my onyx Porsche Cayenne. I slip my hands into the pockets of my black jacket and lean on my car as I watch her disappear halfway into the backseat of hers, seemingly searching for something. Finally, she pulls back. She hits her head on the top of the door and mutters a curse.
"Shit." She rubs the back of her head through her bonnet.
"Are you okay?" I ask her.
Slowly, she lifts her chin so her eyes can meet mine. They grow wide. Her jaw drops. Her hand falls from the back of her head.
"I..." She glances at the phone in her other hand and slips it inside her pocket. "I'm fine. I just..." She closes the door. "I just hit my head." She rubs it again. "But not badly. It's not like it's the first time I hit my head on the top of the door frame."
I raise my eyebrows. "So it happens all the time?"
Again, her jaw drops. "No. I... It's happened before, but not all the time. I'm not... I'm not clumsy. It's just... an accident. I'm fine. Really, I am."
"And you're stammering," I point out.
Which is kind of cute, actually.
Her thick eyebrows furrow. "No, I'm not... stammering. I..."
I wait for her to finish.
She wraps her arms around her and rubs them. "It's cold, okay? I... stammer when it's cold."
"I think I can do something about that. The cold, I mean." I push myself off the Cayenne and walk towards her with a grin.
Her hands stop rubbing. Her shoulders tense as I stop in front of her.
"I can lend you my jacket." I start to shrug it off.
"No." She steps back and puts her hands up. "I mean no, thanks." She slips them back into her pockets. "I was... I was about to head back inside anyway."
She walks past me.
No? I guess she hasn't had that much to drink. Which means I'm going to enjoy this even more.
"You mean back to your boring friends?" I ask her.
She stops and turns around. "What?"
"You never wanted to be there, right? You never wanted to drink or to listen to them talk about things that don't really interest you."
Her eyebrows go up. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?"
"You will," I promise her.
"Ha." She turns on her heel.
"Why?" I ask after her. "Why go back when you don't want to?"
She stops but doesn't turn back. "Because I owe them."
"You owe them?"
"Some of them brought me coffee when I was studying hard to get into med school."
"I see." I nod. "And did you get in?"
She glances over her shoulder. "Yes."
"Where?"
"I haven't picked yet."
"Med school, huh?" I say. "No wonder you were bored. You're too smart for your friends."
"Excuse me?" Her gaze narrows as she turns to face me.
Ah. Nothing gets a woman's attention like an insult.
"You're too smart for your friends," I repeat.
She crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm too smart for you."
"Are you?" I step forward. "Just so you know, I'm in graduate school."
"Studying what?"
"Mechanical engineering. Mostly robotics."
She nods. "Really? Wow. I would never have guessed."
I can't tell if she's genuinely impressed or if she's mocking me.
"Yeah. I'm really good with my hands."
I take my hand out of my pocket and make a squeezing motion with it before