His comment is so wrong on so many levels, but I can’t seem to address it, because I like it.
“My butt? Again, I hope it was worth looking at.” We’re having this conversation in the middle of the department floor. However, I don’t think anyone sees or hears us, because their noses are stuck to computer screens. I glance at Thomas’s door and sigh in relief when I see it’s closed.
I walk away feeling a little less embarrassed. I’m confused instead. He’d said he wanted to look at my ass. I could claim sexual harassment. But from him, it felt like an innocent compliment, if that’s possible.
His list of requests lies in front of us.
“I’ve considered several of your ideas for the website. Some will be no problem, but others need a little more work. I have some questions.”
He props his hands on the table. “Ask away.”
“Do you have a Facebook page for the restaurant? Or any other social media? There is nothing listed. We can put a direct link to them on the main page.”
His demeanor changes instantly.
“I’m not a fan of social media, so I don’t want anything connected to the website,” he says with a pointed tone.
I raise my eyebrows. “Are you sure? We can set up at least a Facebook page. It could be good advertising for your restaurant.”
He clenches his jaw. “No, thank you. It’s not necessary. The restaurant will do fine without it.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “Okay. If you change your mind, just let me know.”
I hope the next thing doesn’t annoy him even more. “Next question.” I point to an item with my pen. “Do you really want the website to be translated into seven different languages?”
“People from all over the world travel to New York City for business or pleasure. Not all of them can speak English or German. It’ll attract more customers because they can read our website and menu. We already have menus that are translated into these languages. You can use them for translation to speed up the process, or scan them.”
“Good idea. It’ll cut down on time.” I jot this in my notes.
“Haven’t you ever traveled to a place where English wasn’t the main language?”
I never travel, and I’m embarrassed to say it.
He nudges my arm. “Haven’t you?”
I pretend to search for something in my files. “No. For personal reasons, I’ve never been able to. The farthest I’ve gone is to Vermont for skiing.”
“Really?”
Now I’m the one who’s annoyed. I gesture to another item. “This is an exciting idea. I think it’d be great for someone to go on the website or load an app and be able to pick the table she wants to reserve. The website could have a video showing the restaurant inside and the beer garden outside, with the layout of the tables. The person can click on the table number, pick the number of people and the time they want the table.”
He leans in closer, and I inhale through my nose. Oh my gosh. He smells so delicious. I could bite him like a sandwich.
He leans away. “Um, thanks.” He chuckles. “Are you hungry or something?”
I squish my eyebrows together. “Thanks for what?”
“That I smell good and you want to bite me like a sandwich.” His eyes crinkle on the sides.
No! I didn’t just say that out loud.
My eyes dart to every part of the room except him. I pretend to look for something, anything. “Where’s my pen?”
He reaches over and taps the pen in my hand.
“I obviously left my head at home.” I cackle nervously.
He points his finger at the list in front of us. “I also want to include a statement on how customers pay the Rechnung.”
Thank God. He let me dodge that one.
I look at him blankly. “The what?”
“Oh. Sorry. Sometimes German slips out when I’m speaking. I don’t realize it. Rechnung means the bill or check.”
“I’m learning a lot of German today.” I smile at him.
“Do you want to know what the German word is for sandwich?” He grins.
I put my pen down and cock my head.
“Sandwich.”
I set myself up for that one. “Ha-ha. You’re a real comedian.” I shove his arm with mine and feel my neck and cheeks burn like I just ate a jalapeño.
He shoves me back. “I’ll be serious now. About the check. Maybe it’s not necessary to add to the website. Back home you have the option to pay separately when you’re finished. For example, if you only had an appetizer and two drinks, that’s all you’d pay for.
“The server calculates each person’s bill separately. I know there are times when everyone splits the bill evenly, but some people eat much less than others. That person shouldn’t have to pay for someone else’s food. This is something I don’t understand about American restaurants.”
“I agree with you there.”
When I listen to him talk, he has so much pride for his country. Curiosity eats at me like a caterpillar on a leaf. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
He turns in his chair to face me and leans his chin on his hand, our knees almost touching. I tap my pen on the table. Man, he’s handsome when he sits like that. He looks like a giant in this small meeting room. The white table only fits five people, but he takes up enough space for two.
“It depends on how personal,” he answers with his sweet accent.
Who would ever think a German accent is sweet? Or maybe it’s because his accent has a twang with both German and French.
I lean back in my chair and twist the lid off my bottle of Diet Coke. “Why do you live in the States? Your pride for your home country pours out of your mouth when you talk about where you’re from. Why not stay there then? Don’t you miss your family and friends and…girlfriend?” I had to throw that tidbit in there. “Do you have sisters or brothers?” I take a sip.
His eyes leave mine but return several long seconds later with steel seriousness. “First of all, I don’t have a girlfriend waiting for me in Germany or in the US. I have no sisters or brothers.”
No girlfriend. I cheer to myself.
“People ask me all the time why I’m here.” He rests his elbows on his knees. “I came here to have a vacation. I worked nonstop and had no life. My job wasn’t fun anymore. Your job should make you happy. Something happened that made me realize I needed an escape. My parents noticed I was exhausted and my heart wasn’t in the right place. They suggested I take a break and go visit my family in New Jersey for a while. Since Mom comes from New Jersey, I vacationed in this area almost every summer ever since I was a child. I fell in love with New Jersey and New York City a long time ago.”
My stomach drops. “Wait a minute. I’m confused. Are you only here temporarily? I thought you owned your restaurant?” Please say you’re staying.
“I own the restaurant with my cousin. During my so-called break here, he approached me about investing in a restaurant together. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. I went to look at it just to be nice. Once I saw its potential, I jumped at the opportunity. We both invested in it, but I control everything.
“I went to college for restaurant management. It was the change I needed. It’s a lot of work, but it’s different from what I did in Germany. Now I’m having fun again, and my stress level is much lower. However, there’s always a miniscule chance I’ll need to go back.”
“Did you own a restaurant over there?” I swivel my chair toward the table and smash my Diet Coke against the side. In slow motion, I watch the bottle slip from my fingers and the soda erupt onto the edge of the table and his pants in the worst spot imaginable. A little bit splashes on my white pants too.
We both jump up, and almost bang our heads. He snatches the bottle off the floor.
I search around for tissues or napkins, and there’s nothing. “I’m so sorry,” I stammer. “I can’t seem to do anything without making a complete ass out of myself in front of you. Let me run to the bat
hroom for some paper towels.” As I spin to leave in a panic, he takes hold of my elbow gently.
“Tina, relax. It’s okay,” he says calmly. “They’re only pants. I’m glad they’re black. Let me go to the bathroom and clean up.”
“It’s out the door to the right. Again, I’m so sorry!”
Once he’s out of sight, my anger returns. I storm off to the ladies’ room, which is farther down the hall, to grab paper towels while grumbling to myself. I stomp back toward the meeting room. I’m such an idiot. I want to run to Thomas’s office and tell him I don’t want to be the project manager for this account anymore. No matter how professional I try to act, something stupid happens or I flirt with him. Maybe I’m not as equipped for this job as I thought I was. Am I still being punished?
I tuck my anger inside my bra and walk back into the meeting room. I stop short when I see him on his hands and knees cleaning the hardwood floor. Thank God it’s not carpet. My heart clenches. Why? He’s just cleaning up the soda. It’s a nice thing to do. But I made the mess. I can’t explain this pressure in my chest when he’s around me. I want to wrap my arms around him—as if that’s what colleagues do. Snap out of it.
“You don’t need to clean up. It was my fault. I’ll do it.” I wipe down the edge of the table.
“It’s no big deal. This is nothing compared to what I clean up at the restaurant.”
“Gerry,” I warn.
He looks up. “I said it’s okay. I don’t mind.”
I ball my fists at my sides with frustration percolating under my skin. I hate this. I hate this. I’ve dealt with shittier situations. Why can’t I handle this? Is it my pride? Is it him?
He stands up and wipes his hands off.
“This isn’t working. We’ve met twice, and I’ve made a total ass out of myself each time. I’ve never had this happen before. I’m usually much more composed and professional. Maybe I should speak to Thomas and ask to be replaced.”
He shakes his head. “No way. I won’t allow you. I want to work with you on this project. Only you,” he states firmly.
I cross my arms and stand straight. “You don’t get it, Gerry. I’m the new Bridget Jones. Who knows what’ll happen next time?” I close my eyes and pinch my nose. “Please tell me you know who I’m talking about.”
“Yes, I know who she is, but that isn’t going to change my mind.” He puts his hands on my upper arms with a firm grip. “I have no doubt you can do what I’m requesting. You’ve suggested some brilliant ideas. I have complete confidence in you. Please stay on this project. Don’t back out now over these little incidents.”
His voice drips with desperation. How can I say no to him? Why does every part of my body ache for him and want to do anything he asks?
“Never once have I questioned your ability. Believe me—I’ve had my shitty moments with my job. I enjoy working with you and your quirkiness.”
He caresses my arms up and down, which I’m enjoying way too much.
“I’m not sure I like to hear the word quirk connected to me in a sentence,” I say.
“I see the wheels turning in your head. Maybe my English isn’t as good as I thought. Let me say it differently so you understand.” He rubs his jaw in frustration. “We haven’t even finished our second meeting, but I’m already looking forward to the third.” He lifts my chin up with his finger. “Do you get it now?”
Wow. My legs feel numb. I collapse in the chair and rest my head in my hands. It’s heavy, like a bowling ball. I force myself to look at him again. “Why? You don’t even know me.”
He kneels in front of me and takes my hands in his.
I love his hands. Again, we shouldn’t be touching like this, but I don’t want him to let go. I inhale deeply. He smells like soda and… My head perks up. Is it licorice? He didn’t smell like this a few minutes ago. I sniff around like a dog.
“What’s wrong? Do I smell? I may be from Europe, but I use deodorant,” he jokes.
I sniff again. “Do you smell licorice?”
His head falls back, and he lets out a guffaw. “Yes, I ate some between me coming back from the bathroom and you searching for something to clean up the soda.” He shrugs his shoulders as he stands up. “You’re not the only one who’s hungry.” His golden eyes pierce mine.
Do not react. I stand up and snoop around, as if I struck gold. “Where is it? Hand it over! I love licorice.” I giggle.
“Wow, a woman after my own heart. Not many people like it like I do.” He reaches for his computer case and pulls out a large bag of black licorice.
“Eat as much as you want. Since it’s my favorite candy, my family sends me bags of it every once in a while. I have a good stash at my apartment. I’m sure my teeth will fall out one day.”
My mind goes back to Number One and licorice. Just like Alexa, most people would think I’m disgusting for finding that attractive. I guess I am quirky.
I lean my hip against the table. “For a European, you have nice teeth, so I wouldn’t worry.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that before, just as I’ve heard Europeans smell.” He shoots his arms out to his sides. “I still don’t understand why people say that. My mom was quite diligent when it came to dental and personal hygiene.” He flashes a smile to prove it.
I push off the table and scoot near him. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t offend you. It just slipped out. I’ve watched too many episodes of The Simpsons and other shows that joke around about that stuff, and have watched Austin Powers way too many times.”
“You didn’t offend me. I’ve heard it all before, especially from my American cousins. They pick on me about Europe, and I pick on them about the US. One day I’ll tell you what Germans say about Americans.”
“I can just imagine.” I pop another piece in my mouth. “You know you can buy licorice here,” I say between chews.
“This is my favorite kind, and it’s made over there. I haven’t found a brand here I like as much. I’m sure if you moved to another country, you’d have a list of items you miss. Especially food. My mom’s is still peanut butter. Her family in New Jersey and I still send her packages with her favorite, and she’s been living there for over thirty years. When she visits, she loads up on stuff to take back with her.”
I reach for the bag, but he pulls it away. I try to grab it. He puts his large hand on my collarbone to keep me from moving forward. I use every ounce of my weight to push forward while laughing.
“No, no, no. You’re allowed to have some, but only when you agree to stay on this project.”
“Hey, that’s not fair. It’s bribery!” I break away from him while gasping for air. That was exhausting but fun.
He hangs the bag over my head.
He’s too tall when I have my ballerinas on. I wish I could crawl up his body like a squirrel. I slouch in defeat, trying to catch my breath. “Fine. I’ll give your project one more chance. But if something else happens, I’m out.”
We stand there smiling at each other. I swear it’s like he’s my best friend. I can’t quite pinpoint the unfamiliar emotions exploding in my body. It’s as if all my senses have been sparked to life. Does he feel it to?
I’m analyzing…just like my sister, the therapist, always does.
I catch him off guard when I snatch the bag out of his hand. “Ha! I won. This bag’s mine now.” I dance around with my arms up in the air.
He laughs. “Hey, you caught me off guard, but you can have it anyway. Just promise you’ll think of me every time you bite one.”
I stop dancing when I grasp what he said.
He gathers his papers and shoves them hard into his computer case. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak to you the way I do. It just comes out. It’s out of line and unprofessional.” He zips up the case with force and turns toward the door.
As I’ve said to myself a million times, we shouldn’t be talking to each other like this. “Gerry, we’re both at fault.”
He looks back over his shoulder at me.
<
br /> “I’ve said some crazy things too.”
In a more professional tone, he says, “I think the project is able to move forward. Please call or email me if you have any further questions.”
“Sounds groovy, baby.” I try to put a smile back on his face. Angry mode doesn’t suit him.
A smirk grows on his face which erases all worries from my mind.
“Quirky. Just the way I like you.”
I walk him out, then head to Peggy’s cube. I tap her shoulder. She removes her earbuds and turns in her chair.
“Hey there. Here’s the list of requests for Gerry Maier’s website. I made some notes on the side. I’ll send you an updated version tomorrow. He has great ideas, but it’ll be tough to meet that six-week timeline, so we need to get moving.” I lay it on her desk.
She lifts the page up and traces it with one finger. “Did you spill coffee or something on it?”
My face begins to sizzle like bacon in a frying pan.
“You’re blushing. What happened?” She points to her chair. “Sit down and tell me.”
I relax my tense body into the chair. Definitely doing yoga tonight. Screw the gym.
She removes her black-rimmed glasses and remains silent as I explain how I spilled my soda on Gerry. Her hand covers her mouth the entire time. She’s trying not to laugh, but her crinkled eyes betray her.
She removes her hand from her mouth and gives me an inquisitive look. “Gerry seems like a nice guy if he reacted like that. Handsome too.”
Where’s she going with this? I suddenly feel sweat trickle down my back. I try not to touch my necklace. Did she hear us?
“Yeah. He seems like a nice guy. I think he’ll be easy to work with.” I try to show no emotion and to keep my eyes from darting around the cube.
“I heard Gerry say something in French when I crashed your meeting with Thomas. Did he tell you what he said? I can speak pretty good French myself.”
“Really? That’s cool. Am I the only one who doesn’t speak a foreign language?” I grumble. “Gerry said the pencil is yellow. Why?”
She hesitates for a moment. “I wasn’t going to get involved, but I thought I’d let you know that’s not what he said. Far from it.” Her mouth curves upward.
Dreams Collide: Collide Series Book 2 Page 5
