"You don't?"
"You're too high maintenance. We're just going to be friends." Brian raked a hand through his hair and gestured toward the restaurant a couple doors down. "Swan Oyster Depot. They have great seafood here."
There? She looked disbelieving at the restaurant. It was a nondescript entrance on a dingy street, next to a liquor store, with a short line of people waiting to get in. Across the street was sex-toy shop. "You take me to all the nice places."
He grinned at her as they got into line. Then he frowned at her and reached for her head.
"What are you doing?" she exclaimed, batting his hands away.
"Your hair is messy from the helmet." He pulled out the clip that held her hair in its bun and fluffed her hair around her shoulders. "That's better," he said, handing her the clip.
"No it's not." She wound her hair back and reset it in place.
Brian shook his head. "It was pretty down."
"But messy."
"Sometimes messy is what you need."
"I was never allowed to be messy." She winced. Why did she say that? She hadn't meant to—it'd come from nowhere, even if it were true.
Of course Brian glommed on to it. "Not even when you were a kid?"
"My mom preferred things to be tidy."
"And your dad?" he asked as they moved up to stand in the doorway.
"My dad left before I was born," she admitted reluctantly.
She waited for Brian to start extrapolating her neuroses and accredit them to not having a father figure, but all he said was, "What a loser."
She stared at him in shock. Then she nodded. "He really was."
A guy in a white apron gestured to them. "Two of you? Take the spot down at the end."
They walked inside. The only seating was at a long counter. Brian led the way and sat on a stool. She perched primly next to him, hitching her stuff on the hook under the counter.
"They pretty much only serve fresh seafood. I recommend the salad, unless you like oysters."
The guy in the soiled apron came by, smiling in welcome. They ordered, a half salad for her, a full for him, and two Cokes.
While they waited for their food to arrive, Brian turned to face her. "Since we're going to be friends, you need to fill me in on all the pertinent information. Like what you do for a living."
"I'm the assistant to a world-renowned pastry chef."
"Really?" He perked up. "Do you get leftovers?"
"There usually aren't any." She smiled at his disappointed expression. "At Christmastime she usually bakes at home, but I don't think she will again this year."
"Why is that?"
"Her grandmother died last year. They used to do Christmas baking together. I think Daniela still misses her."
"If anything changes and you have too many cookies on your hands, let me know. I'm very willing to save you from sugar overdose."
She imagined him in a mask, swiping extra cookies out of her way, keeping her hips safe from extra pounds. It wasn't hard to picture, and that made her nervous. So she veered the conversation. "If I were going to be a superhero, I'd be Catwoman."
"I'd have figured you for Wonder Woman. Batman was always my favorite comic book series. Bruce Wayne had an edge, and cool toys."
She sighed. "In a perfect world, he'd really exist."
Brian leaned forward. "If I dressed up as Batman, would you go out with me?"
"I thought you said you didn't want to date me."
"Hypothetically speaking."
"Then, hypothetically speaking, it couldn't hurt." She pictured him in a black latex suit. He'd look sizzling actually. She picked up her Coke and sipped a little, trying to cool herself off.
"Good to know." He smiled and said thanks to the guy who brought them their salads. "I'm an accountant."
She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. "Brian Benedict, the bookkeeper?"
He shrugged, seemingly not bothered. "Alliteration always worked for Stan Lee. I like numbers, and being an accountant is more creative than you'd imagine."
"I guess," she murmured.
"My clients appreciate me, I make a good living, and since I work for myself I have a fair amount of freedom. Except during tax season." He grinned. "Still, it's not as cool as working with a pastry chef."
"That's not as cool as it sounds. You think I'm high maintenance. You should see Daniela." Realizing what she said, she quickly amended her statement. "Not that she isn't great. She's very caring, but she's temperamental."
"Like?" He took a bite of salad and waited for her to explain.
"Like if you interrupt her when she's