Page 39 of My Enemy Biker

"You read one article and developed an optimization system."

"It's not a system. It's just... correct." She's looking up at me now, that sharp intelligence in her eyes that made me want to keep arguing with her in the first place. "You could just admit I'm right."

"You are right."

She blinks. "That was fast."

"I pick my battles."

"Since when?"

"Since I figured out which battles actually matter." I brush a strand of hair back from her face. "This isn't one of them."

Her expression softens slightly. "You're conceding dishwasher methodology."

"I'm acknowledging superior expertise."

"That's the same thing."

"If it makes you feel better, yes."

She laughs. Actually laughs, the sound filling up the kitchen. "I'm making tea. Want some?"

"You hate tea."

"I'm expanding my palate." She fills the kettle, sets it on the stove. "Besides, I've been drinking too much coffee lately."

"You live on coffee."

"I'm trying something new."

I watch her get a mug down from the cabinet.

"Next time I'll load it your way," I say.

She turns, eyebrow raised. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"You're not going to argue that your method has merit?"

"My method has no merit. Yours is better. I'll adapt."

She studies me for a long moment. "You're being suspiciously reasonable."

"I can be reasonable."

"You argued with me for twenty minutes last week about the correct way to fold towels."

"That was different. Your towel method is insane."

"My towel method maximizes shelf space!"

"Your towel method requires an engineering degree to replicate."

"It requires basic spatial awareness, which apparently—" She stops. Shakes her head, but she's smiling. "We're doing it again."

"Doing what?"