What do you think made you find this part of yourself again? The one who likes to have fun and forget her responsibilities for a while? Or should I ask…who?
No one. I just realized that it was nice to be wanted—and to actually want someone, but not just anyone. It was important to choose the right person, because being with the wrong one could easily ruin you.
What would it be like to date someone who was actually kind, sweet, understanding, who wouldn’t disappoint me and run away, who wasn’t complicated, who was open and genuinely wanted to get to know me?
“Do you normally stand in the middle of the parking lot and daydream?”
I blinked and stared at broad shoulders wrapped in a baby-blue dress shirt. My eyes traveled up and up and took in the brown neck, the square jaw that was freshly shaven, the handsome face with soulful brown eyes, and the soft, curly black hair.
“Because it’s cute,” he finished. He smiled and a dimple on his right cheek popped out.
I smiled back at him and wondered why he was flirting with me when I very probably looked like Oscar the Grouch after my shift at the coffee shop. I should’ve reapplied my lipstick before I left, mopped up some of the grease on my forehead and nose, but I hadn’t planned on going anywhere but home after work.
“Kara? Kara!”
My eyes reluctantly moved from his face to the source of the voice behind him. It was Tita Didi from church. The adorable but shameless matchmaker who kept on pushing me to date her coworkers and nephews.
“Tita,” he said. I glanced back at the man when he said that. Oh no. Was he one of her nephews?
“I told you I’d get the car. You didn’t have to walk all the way here,” he said, looking at the older woman with exasperation and fondness.
She waved her hand. “I need the exercise.” Then she turned to me, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. “You met my nephew Thomas? This is destiny. This is perfect, perfect! I’ve been wanting to introduce the two of you. Do you have work tonight, Kara, sweetheart?”
“No, but—”
“That’s good. Let’s go have dinner together, kids. Come on, come on.”
She wrapped her short arm around my waist and propelled me to one of the sushi restaurants at the strip mall. I threw Thomas a helpless look and he just grinned, looking pleased with the situation.
“Kara, this is my nephew Thomas. He’s a nurse and he’s going to study medicine next year. And he’s so handsome and he’s single, Kara.”
Okay, Tita Didi. Calm your tits. Please don’t make this awkward.
I wondered if she thought I was man hungry or she just really wanted to pair me up with someone out of the goodness of her heart.
“I told you about Kara, right, Thomas? She’s just so amazing. You two have a lot in common so why don’t you get to know each other better?” She rose, hanging her designer bag on her arm. “Just the two of you today, okay? I forgot that I’m supposed to meet my friend at the hair salon in five minutes. It’s just next door so don’t worry about my ride, sweetheart,” she told him. “My friend will drive me home. Enjoy your dinner and just have fun, okay? Bye, kids.” She gave us air kisses and left.
When she was gone, I gave Thomas a knowing look. “You know she’s full of it, don’t you?”
He looked at me for a moment, his lips tucked together, his brown eyes shining with laughter. And then he let it out. He had a deep laugh that rumbled in his chest.
“I’m sorry. She does this all the time.” He looked embarrassed. It was adorable.
“I know. This isn’t the first time she’s ambushed me like this.”
His eyes shone with laughter. “No one is safe from Tita Didi.”
“Last time, she set me up with a guy who didn’t blink.”
He looked at me for a moment, not saying anything, not blinking. Ah, damn it. This was another weirdo she’d set me up with. And then his eyes twinkled and he blinked several times. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Hi, guys.” The server placed the menu on the table, along with order cards and a pen so we could choose what kind of sushi we wanted. “Can I get you something to drink first?” he asked.
Thomas looked at me. “Ladies first,” he said.
“I’d like a coconut bubble tea, please. Double the bubbles.”
I would have ordered a milkshake if they’d had it on the menu.
“Great choice. And yours?”
“I’ll have green tea, please,” Thomas said.
Green tea. I realized I’d never hung out with a guy who ordered green tea. Was he a health freak? He was on the slim side, but his shoulders were broad, his arms filling out the dress shirt he was wearing.
“Perfect. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
“Thank you,” we both said.
I wasn’t sure what else to talk about after the server left, so I asked, “So…you’re Tita Didi’s nephew, right?” I grabbed the card and the marker, placing a number one beside the veggie caterpillar roll, tempura yam roll, and shiitake mushroom roll.
“She’s my mom’s sister,” he answered.
“You two looked close.”
“She doesn’t have any kids.”
My eyebrows rose. “So you hang out with your aunt at the mall? Nice guy. Didn’t know you guys still exist.”
His brown eyes were amused. “Oh, we do exist. Just some of us didn’t wake up early and missed Nice Guy 101 class.”
He was witty too. I handed him the pen. A lock of his hair dropped on his forehead as he looked down and wrote on his order card. He raked it back with his fingers. It was black and curly, so it would totally be normal if it reminded me of someone I was so totally over. Except that it was the wrong shade. Cameron’s hair was darker, almost blue black, especially when hit by the sun. And it wasn’t tightly curled like Thomas’s. Cameron’s were like loose angel curls.
Damn him. Get the hell out of my head, Bigfoot!
“Have you guys decided on what to order?”
The server jerked me out of my thoughts as he placed our drinks on the table.
“I don’t think you remember me,” Thomas said when our server left.
My eyebrows drew together. “Have we met?”
“Not properly introduced. I go to the same church. I saw you slap your brother in the face once.”
I drew a blank for a moment and then I laughed, remembering that time when I was so sleepy—when was I not, really—and Dylan woke me up and my hand automatically slapped him. I didn’t know anyone had noticed.
“Oh yeah, we do that for fun,” I deadpanned. “My brother likes it.”
He smiled. “Got a mean streak in you.”
“Do you have brothers and sisters?”
He nodded. “Five sisters and five brothers. I’m the baby.”
“No way. There’s eleven of you?”
“My childhood was an adventure.”
The server came with our food, and we discovered that we were both vegetarian. He told me funny stories of how his siblings pranked him, told him to wash the dishes and sweep the floor because he was the youngest, how he never got to hold the TV remote control, and how he missed his siblings when they all grew up and left their parents’ house. And eventually he left too. We talked about what it was like to grow up as mixed babies in Canada—his ma was Filipino and his dad was African Canadian.
He was open, friendly, and we had a lot in common. We shared stories about difficult patients and the sweet, kind patients who made working in the health industry worth it. It seemed that the universe was actually listening to me for once when I asked for someone like him. He was the complete opposite of someone I had completely written off. This person I had written off wouldn’t even dream about telling me about his childhood.
“Am I boring you?” he asked.
I blinked. “Damn.
No, I’m sorry. I just…”
He had a boyish face, one that told me he had an army of family and friends and girls who absolutely adored him. His warm brown eyes invited me to tell him whatever I wanted.
“I’m a jerk, aren’t I?” I asked.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you? I won’t tell. Scout’s honor.” He made the three-finger salute.
I stabbed a sushi piece with my chopsticks, chucked it in my mouth. What was the harm? He was a stranger and he looked trustworthy enough, although… “I have this…friend,” I started.
He nodded, smiling, his eyes shrewd. “I like these ‘I have this friend’ hypothetical things.”
I gave him a dry look. “It’s really my friend.”
“Uh-huh. So this friend is a lady?”
“Yeah, and she met a man.”
“Sounds like something I’m expert in.”
“Expert? You get friend-zoned a lot, don’t you?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Ouch. But we’ll talk about me next time. This is your moment. Take center stage, please.”
Please. I knew someone who never said please, except for that night.
“Have you ever cared about somebody you really hated a lot? The more you hate them, the more you want them? And you pretend you’re fine, but deep inside, you know you’re really not? Have you ever cared about someone so much that you just want to push them off a cliff?”
“Hmm. I can’t really say for sure I’ve experienced this phenomenon.” He set down his chopsticks. “Should I be worried? Do you need help?”
“Not me. My friend.”
“Oh, yes. Sounds like your friend really cares about this man.”
“Maybe. Right now, she wants to kill him, but she can’t even tell him because he’s not around. He just…left.”
“Where is he?”
“She doesn’t even know. He left without telling her.”
“Give me a background. So they broke up?”
“Not really. They were together, but not together, really.”
“Ah. I think I get it. They spent a lot of time together but were never boyfriend-girlfriend because they never talked about it. But it’s obvious they have feelings for each other. Then all of a sudden, he stops texting and calling and he’s disappeared on her. Am I getting this right so far?”
“Damn. You’re good. You’re right—you are an expert.”
He patted his chest with his fist. “Thank you. Listen, I think you already know this—”
“Not me. My friend,” I reminded him.
He gave me a knowing look. “Fine. Your friend. Tell her she deserves better than that. Every girl does.”
Aw.
“But why do you think he left?”
He sighed, leaned back in his chair. “It could be anything, really. You want me to guess?”
I nodded.
“Maybe he got scared.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe he was falling for your friend and he got scared so he left. He doesn’t want a commitment, not ready to settle, all those things an immature mind can’t comprehend. But…”
“But?”
“It could also be that he doesn’t really like your friend. Or if this guy is a complete asshole, it could be he got bored and moved on because he doesn’t see her as challenging enough. Or she’s too challenging, too difficult to deal with, and he doesn’t think it’s worth the trouble. Or…”
Ouch. That hit home.
“Or?”
He scratched his chin. “Or he thinks she’s not going to sleep with him.”
“Oh.”
“I couldn’t really tell you,” he continued. “But there’s one thing I’m sure of. Tell your friend that she shouldn’t be too mad at herself for falling for this guy. Everybody has feelings, and if these feelings are real, it’s hard to put them away. It’s difficult to get over them, but it will happen. I’m sure of it.”
He sounded like he knew what he was talking about. We exchanged numbers and promised that we’d go out for coffee soon. I was glad to have found another guy friend. I had missed Damon and his male company and his advice. It was good to get advice from a guy’s point of view.
I thought about the things he’d told me when I got home and was in the bathroom. I had thought about all those things too, but just hearing them made them even more real.
Thomas was right. I already knew that I deserved better—and that my feelings were real and it could take a while to get rid of them.
I looked up at the clock in the bathroom. I had put one there to time myself. I could spend hours in here, sitting in the tub, on the toilet, doing my makeup.
It was ten at night and I should get some sleep.
* * *
Days passed in a blur. The only thing I looked forward to was the interview I had at a construction company. Dylan said it was a friend of a friend who’d told him about the opening. And it was double what I was getting at the coffee shop, and then some.
The morning of the interview arrived. I dressed to impress with a crisp white dress shirt, deep-green blazer and slacks. The construction company office was fifteen minutes outside the city limits. I programmed my phone’s GPS so I wouldn’t get lost and followed the instructions until it told me: “You’ve arrived at your destination.”
“Bish, what do you mean I’ve arrived at my destination? Here?”
I glared at my phone as if expecting it to answer. I pulled up to a dirt road, kept going until I located a gigantic open gate.
It was probably fifteen acres of land. I could see three buildings and a trailer. It didn’t look like a construction company. It looked more like a supplier of soil/stone.
“Did I get the address right?” I double checked, and it was. “Either I’m tripping or you are,” I told my phone.
The sound of big machinery, the smell of dry dust and soil and grease. Large hills of different-colored stones were organized meticulously in long rows. Huge trucks were coming and going from the lot—from eighteen-wheelers to tandems packed with huge amounts of soil or lined with boxes, probably filled with stones.
It was like a colony of worker bees—activity was everywhere. Everybody had a purpose. No one outside was standing still.
I looked at the three buildings and decided to go for the first one. It was a big, square modern building, with a slanted tin roof and earthy colors of red and brown wood paneling on the exterior walls. It was a gorgeous building, a testament to their workmanship. The other two structures looked marginally the same except with different types of roofs and exterior walls.
I knocked. When no one answered, I pushed open the door.
People were everywhere. I smelled coffee, papers, sweat, and dust. Conversations hummed, phones rang, printers and fax machines beeped. It was brimming with energy.
It was a big modern space, with a huge conference room walled with privacy glass and two rooms at the back. A black steel staircase led to a loft above the rooms. Light-gray concrete walls and flooring, exposed beams. It looked very industrial, but the finishing touches in the furniture added warmth.
On the front left side of the space was an enclosed room, walled with the same glass. It looked like a customer lounge, complete with a TV and chairs. Four massive desks sitting in a row along the wall dominated the right side of the space.
“Can I help you?” A girl who looked my age came up to me. She was wearing a hard hat, like most of the people I’d seen outside, a neon orange reflective jacket, and dirty jeans.
“I’m Kara Hawthorne. I have an interview scheduled in”—I looked up at the moon-size clock in the middle of the room—“five minutes.”
“Oh yeah, Deb’s expecting you. Just head on to the back. See the last desk over there? That’s Deb’s.”
“All right. Thanks.”
>
“No problem.”
I wasn’t nervous before, but I was nervous now. This should be easy-peasy for me. I’d done a lot of interviews and I was an expert on how to answer their questions. But as I approached the very pregnant redhead at the back, my heart started to drum in my chest.
You got this.
I’d never worked at a soil company or construction company before, but it shouldn’t be any harder than the other jobs I’ve had.
It’s double your hourly rate plus change. You have to bag this job. Plus, you might be working with designers and architects and engineers, and who knows what could happen in the future? You’ve always loved designing. Maybe you could pick up a thing or two.
Deb spotted me before I could approach her.
“You Kara?” She assessed me with shrewd, green eyes. She was beautiful, probably in her late thirties, and had a no-nonsense aura about her. Work, work, work, her eyeglasses, pencil behind her ear, short red hair, and chocolate-brown jacket said. I liked her already.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiled. “Punctual. It’s not usually this jungle crazy. You’ve caught us on a good day.”
I didn’t mind crazy, I wanted to tell her, but she was already placing the phone to her ear. “Head on upstairs. I’ll tell Rick you’re here,” she said as she punched in numbers. “He’s the owner.”
I nodded and went upstairs. I felt a little like I was going to the principal’s office as I took the stairs. The room had the same look as the whole building—modern but warm. Big, dusty windows showed the activity from the outside.
There was another massive desk in the middle of the room—same as the ones downstairs. On top of it was a huge pile of folders, almost teetering from the height and weight of it, receipts and Post-it Notes, a mug of coffee beside a desk lamp. Two chairs sat in front of the desk. Jackets hung on metal hooks on the wall. It was a well-used workspace. It gave me a good feeling.
What if I didn’t get this job?
Of course you will! They’d be crazy not to hire you. You have a huge range of skills. You can even eat a whole tub of ice cream in one sitting. You can do this!
The door opened, and a tall man strode in. He stopped, looking at me with surprise in his bright-green eyes.
Spitfire in Love Page 21
