It's Definitely Not You - Abby Brooks Page 0,56

black button up, sleeves rolled up to show forearms covered in ink. A tag on his chest identified him as Paul. He sidled our way and dropped a hand on the bar. “What can I get you lovely people this fine evening?”

Ramsey leaned on his elbow. “The last time I was here, the Pomerol was more cloying than a Kenny G album. I missed that gritty Bordeaux terroir.” He pinched his fingers together and shook them in front of his lips.

My eyes widened in time with Paul’s. Had Ramsey prepped for the night by searching how to talk about wine? Or did he really speak that way? Either way, I judged him for it.

“I recognized most of those words,” I said, “but not all strung together like that.” The bartender bobbed his head and Ramsey regarded me as he would a wayward puppy.

“How about a pinot grigio?” He beamed. “One bottle, two glasses.”

Paul had the good grace to cast a questioning glance my way and I shook my head. “Just a glass for him, please. I’ll stick with the theme of drinks starting with P and have a pina colada.”

Ramsey’s jaw dropped as Paul left to fulfill our orders. “How do you keep your figure inhaling calories like that?” His eyes said he thought he’d given me a compliment.

With a light shrug, I crossed my legs and sat up straight. Prim. Professional. Decidedly not flirty or inviting in the least. “I’m really excited to hear your advice for giving solid care to patients while still keeping to a clock.”

Ramsey leaned in, his perfect bone structure annihilating my personal space—the move he made every time he came near me. To say it was getting old was an understatement. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about work. Why don’t you tell me a little about why you became a doctor in the first place? Let me unravel all there is to know about Kennedy Monroe.”

There would be no unraveling.

Of any kind.

For any reason.

I shifted, recreating a comfortable distance between us. “I’ve been volunteering at a clinic after work, and people love me there because I take my time with them. They line up, knowing I’ll make them wait, but only because I give people my full attention. I don’t understand why things are so different at Key West Pediatrics.”

“You volunteer at a free clinic? How virtuous of you.” He purred the compliment, but an involuntary nose wrinkle betrayed his true feelings. Ramsey Middleton did not approve of volunteering. Or maybe free clinics weren’t his style. Or maybe he thought it was beneath me. Whatever it was, his disapproval was on full display.

As the man who promised his interest was purely professional ran a flirty finger along the back of my hand, I searched for a way to end the evening gracefully. I had to work with the man, for goodness sakes. How could I shoot him down without offending him?

Navigating the encounter was like wandering a minefield blindfolded. In clown shoes.

I moved my hand out of reach. He leaned closer. I shifted to the edge of my seat. He did the same. We were locked in a ballet of body language and we spoke different dialects. Things were definitely lost in translation.

“I’m sorry,” I said, interrupting him middle humble-brag. “I have to go to the bathroom. Would you please excuse me?”

Ramsey blinked, then had the balls to finish his sentence as if I hadn’t spoken. Sure, I’d interrupted him, but who ignored an emergency bathroom request? Apparently, the same kind of guy who hid a date in a business meeting and expected everything to work out his way.

Slipping off my stool, I beelined for the ladies’ room, then braced myself on the porcelain sink and stared into the mirror. “Just tell him you’re not interested romantically. Tell him you thought this was a business meeting and that’s the only reason you accepted his invitation. You’re strong. Capable. You don’t have to worry about his feelings because he’s the one acting slimy here.”

Clearly unconvinced, my reflection gave the slow-blink to end all slow-blinks. I scrubbed my face, hoping to shock some good sense into myself. “It shouldn’t be this hard.”

A toilet flush scared the shit out of me. Not literally, thank God, though if it was gonna happen, I was in the right place.

A stall door swept open and a cute blonde with a hot pink smile stepped out. She washed her hands, meeting my gaze through the mirror. “You’re right. You