He pivots and strides toward his beckoning java, andI ain’t even mad.
“Okay,” I say a bit too dreamily, but fortunately, he’s out of earshot.
Colin says something to the barista, who then passes him her Sharpie, and he grabs an extra napkin. He pauses long enough to scribble on the napkin and then passes the marker back to her before pivoting again and grabbing his coffee to march with haste back toward me.
“Here,” he says with a rushed, yet apologetic tone as he holds out the napkin toward me. “I have one hell of a morning, and I need to run, but I appreciate the coffee, and it was really nice talking to you for a minute. Call me later or try to bump into me here tomorrow morning around the same time. You can let me know how awesome your first day went.”
My lips part in shock. “Oh.”
Holy crap, I can’t believe all of that actually worked.
I hastily take the napkin and offer a tiny dip of my chin. “I mean, thanks. I will.”
Colin is still smiling, and his clear blue eyes make a quick roam over my form. His bottom lip discreetly catches between his teeth for a second, and he lifts his free hand to touch the side of my arm. “I look forward to it, Elle.”
With that, he steps around me and pushes out through the glass doors and onto the blustery avenue, leaving me with a totally effortless and completely idiotic grin on my face. And not to mention, enough of an ego boost to make me feel like I can do just about anything,includingcompletely crush it at my new job that I’m basically unqualified for.
I peer down at the napkin to admire his dark, efficient, totally sexy handwriting.
Thank YOU, Colin.
I willdefinitelybe stopping by this coffee shop again tomorrow.
About an hour and a half later, I have filled out so much paperwork that my freshly-manicured hand is so worn out that it feels like a floppy mass of flesh. The conference room in which I’m waiting to meet with my two new bosses, the VP of Sales and lead sales director, has a 360-degree view of Manhattan that is the stuff of movies and dreams. Skyscrapers glint silver in the bright morning sunlight in every direction. Iconic New York landmarks such as the Empire State Building and the Freedom Tower stretch skyward in the distance.
My brief trance is cut short when I hear the muffled conversation of two men approaching the closed door of the conference room. Nerves suddenly turn my stomach, and I take a quick sip of the water provided to me by Margie, the chipper HR director who left the room about five minutes ago. I have just enough time to smooth my hair, throw my shoulders back, lift my chin, and plaster on a confident smile before the door handle turns and the door swings inward.
And in walksColinfrom the coffee shop.
My heart leaps into my throat with such force that I nearly cough.
That same solid, confident stride carries Colin through the door along with a portly, salt-and-pepper-haired man about sixty. Chipper Margie from HR informed me that the men who were meeting me in this room are my newbossesandoh God.
What do I do?
Whatdoyou do in a situation like this?
This suddenly feels like a zany romantic comedy or a Hallmark movie or even like Ashton Kutcher has rebooted Punk’d, and I’m his latest victim.
The two men are wrapping up their conversation, and I have enough time to zip through a mental recall of everything that went down in the coffee shop earlier this morning.
I did nothing inappropriate. I was totally nice to Colin. I held his spot in line andthenpaid for his coffee. I didn’thit onhim.Hegavemehis phone number. If anyone should be nervous about their previous behavior in this situation, it should behim. And evenheshouldn’t be nervous about it because none of it was seedy or scandalous other than my overly-sexed-up internal musings about him, and IswearI didn’t say any of that out loud.
Right?
This is just a crazy coincidence. Infact,it suddenly seems like an advantage because it means Colin and I have a funny story that can be used for pleasant small talk during this first meeting.
I remind myself of that to fortify my faltered confidence as I stand up to offer my hand to the older man first.
“Elle Kissinger,” the sixty-something man says as we shake, and I focus my eyes like lasers on his face to avoid looking at Colin just yet. “Dalton Sears, Vice President of Sales. Pleasure to meet you, young lady.”
Young lady?
I bite the inside of my cheek and maintain my pleasant smile. “Likewise.”
Dalton turns to slap Colin’s back in a veryBoys’ Clubmanner, and now I can’t avoid looking at him.
His smile is still a total panty-melter, but now his eyes glint with devious mischief. I don’t know how to take that, nor can I get any kind of read on what might be going through his head, so I simply pretend I don’t remember him from the coffee shop.
