Page 78 of His Reckoning

She shrugs. “You keep asking questions.”

“That’s called conversation.”

“No,” she says. “That’s called interest.”

Neither of us says anything. Something about the word hangs in the air between us. Then Kayla leans back in her chair and takes another bite of pasta like she didn’t just drop something slightly dangerous into the conversation.

And the irritating part is … I’m starting to think she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Kayla appears calm, like she didn’t just accuse me of being interested in her.

“That’s not accurate,” I reply.

“You watch me,” she continues with a smile on her face.

“I possess functional vision.”

She slowly smiles again. “That sounded personal.”

My voice drops. “I’m correct.”

She twirls the last bite of pasta around her fork and eats it. She sets the fork down.

“You know what I think?” she says.

I already don’t like the direction this conversation is heading.

“What?”

“I think you’re used to people being intimidated by you.”

“That’s because they usually are.”

“Right.”

She tilts her head slightly. “But I’m not.”

I lean forward. “I noticed.”

“And that bothers you.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“It fascinates you.”

I stare at her because the irritating part is that she says it so matter-of-factly.

“You think you have me figured out,” I say.

“I think you’re predictable.”

That earns her a quiet laugh.

“Predictable?”

“Yes.”

“How?”