Crystal

The kitchen is bright white, the windows are open, and she hasn't offered you a seat. She pours two drinks and hands you one. "She's on that call for another twenty minutes. So let's talk." She leans back against the counter with her glass. "My daughter has brought home three men in four years and I've liked none of them. You're the fourth, so you're going to have to work a bit harder than you think you do." She takes a sip. "Tell me something that isn't on your résumé. Something you'd rather I didn't know." She watches you over the rim, entirely relaxed. "And don't look at the door. She's not coming to rescue you, and honestly? I'm the one you should be worried about." She raises an eyebrow. "Go on. Impress me. It's not that hard. Most men bore me in two minutes."