“I need to get this set up, pronto. Did you bring everything I ordered?” I ask, determined to veer this conversation onto neutral ground. Okay, there’s that and the fact that I’m a little nervous. I’ve checked my list with him over the phone at least ten times, but it doesn’t hurt to check one more time. After all, every little mistake you make when you’ve just started a job is amplified tenfold.
“Absolutely. Do you take me for an amateur?” Even with the sexy British accent, he just leaves me cold.
“I’m just doing my job. If you could work with me here, it would make it a whole lot easier.”
“Fair enough. Let’s go through everything again and if I forgot anything I’ll rush back to the shop and get it. I can’t guarantee I’ll be back before the meeting starts, but at least I’ll have your back.”
“That sounds like a great idea.”
Percy drops the bag he’s holding to the floor and pulls out his phone from his back pocket. He turns it on and starts scrolling. I can only assume he’s looking for the email I sent. “You ordered a bacon sandwich on sourdough, a sausage sandwich also on sourdough, scrambled eggs on dark rye and a smoked salmon and chives cream cheese bagel. You also wanted a basket of homemade muffins. The flavors du jour are coconut raspberry stuffed with almond paste and cinnamon apple stuffed with a sinful walnut concoction. The final item on your list is a basket of our to-die-for white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies. If you go through everything you’ll see I haven’t forgotten a thing, sunshine. When it comes to your orders, I always triple-check.” He winks.
Yes. He got it right. Instantly my stress washes off my shoulders. “Thank you so very much, Percy.” I smile warmly. I approach him to grab the bags, but he stops me by raising his hand.
“I do have a little something extra that’s not on your list.”
I furrow my brows. “Did Ashley call with a special request?”
He shakes his head before reaching out for a craft paper bag. A huge grin takes over his face when our eyes meet again. “Not at all. I figured you might need a little something to get your day started on the right foot,” he says proudly.
When I read my name scribbled on it and spot the big heart with an arrow, I cringe internally. Oh, no. “Percy, you really didn’t—”
“Shhh,” he says, placing his index finger on his lips. “I insist,” he says, handing me the bag.
I accept graciously and take the bag. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure, trust me. I brought you our Healthy Breakfast Champion. The Greek yogurt, muesli and nuts combination will keep you going until lunch. I sweetened the pot by adding a huge Choco Heaven cookie. I made the cookies myself.” Really? “Well, technically I asked Tamara’s sous-chef Aubrey to bake it for you, but the sentiment comes from me and I was watching over her shoulder the entire time to make sure she got it absolutely right since it was for you.” He’s hopeless. “I asked her to double the recipe for yours. It’s like getting a two-for-one special. You’ll die when you sink your teeth into the dark chocolate moistness and your tongue will be delighted by little sparkles of white chocolate chips.”
He looks so pleased with himself. Since I don’t want to burst his bubble, I adopt a kinder, softer approach. “I appreciate the gesture. That’s actually quite sweet of you.”
“Does that mean that maybe you and—”
A voice behind me interrupts Percy in mid-sentence. “Delilah, do you need a hand setting up?” I turn around to look at the short woman with raven hair, wearing glasses with a thick and modern designer frame, who just saved the day. I sigh with relief. My colleague and mentor Gemma Christopher has come to my rescue not a minute too soon. “I doubt you’ll be able to manage on your own since you only have…” Gemma pauses for a brief second, lowers her eyes to her watch and taps the bezel with a manicured finger a few times before locking eyes with me again. “Seven minutes left.”
“Gemma, I’d hate to interrupt your work,” I say, winking at her.
Her eyes shift from mine to the man still standing behind me. “Well, hello, Percy. How are you today?”
“Gemma, my dear.”
“It’s just Gemma. Just Gemma,” she snaps.
“Of course,” Percy answers, nodding. Gemma is actually a friendly person, but you’d never be able to tell from this icy greeting. “To answer your question, I was doing great before, but seeing your radiant face just brightens my day to a level that’s absolutely inexplicable.”
Jesus, he’s laying it on thicker than Momma does on a peanut butter and marshmallow crème sandwich.
When Gemma’s arms fold in front of her chest, I already know things don’t look too good for poor old Percy. Gemma narrows her eyes and sizes him up. Her gaze is so unimpressed it’s almost funny. Heck, I’m feeling uncomfortable. After a few long seconds of inspection, she slightly pulls up the side of her lips. That’s as much of a smile Percy can ever hope to get from her. Without addressing him, she turns her attention back to me. “Delilah, Ashley asked me to help you.” We exchange a complicit look.
“Oh, okay. Thanks so much. I guess we should get right to it, then.” I grin from ear to ear.
“I second that.” Gemma returns my smile.
Percy clears his throat behind me. “I gather that’s my cue to leave, ladies,” he says. You think?
I turn to face him. “Thanks again for everything and thanks for your little treat. Have a great day, Percy. Please send my regards to Nick and my hopes for a speedy recovery.” That way I won’t have to deal with you next time I place an order.
“Delilah. Gemma,” is all he says. With that, our pushy delivery guy finally exits the gallery.
I roll my eyes at the door before turning around to face Gemma again. “Oh, my God. Thank you so very much for coming out,” I huff. “That was so exhausting. I need a double shot of espresso.”
“Don’t mention it. I feel personally responsible for you since you’re shadowing me while you’re working here at the gallery. You’re under my wing and it’s only normal that I’d fend off predators. I wasn’t going to tell you this in front of him, but the real reason I came out here is because Ashley wanted me to let you know she’ll be running a little late. She’s still on a conference call with Hong Kong. She’s on a call with an American art buyer representing a number of extraordinarily rich Chinese investors. Benjamin and Esther are on the call with her.” Her eyes drop to the bag with the big heart I’m holding. “I can’t believe Percy waited a whole three weeks before bringing you your own little bag of treats. He’s either slipping or his girlfriends are keeping him too busy.” She chortles.
“What do you mean?” I ask, surprised.
“Nick is Percy’s enabler. When he notices a new girl when he delivers our orders, he’s always quick to rush back the shop to let Percy know. I’m not sure if it’s on purpose or if it’s simply because Nick gets so excited by the idea of the chase. In any case, inevitably, a few days later the new girl gets a so-called impromptu visit from Percy. That's his first point of contact. A week later she gets her own I’d-like-to-get-to-know-you-in-the-Biblical-sense-of-the-word bag of sweet treats. It’s happened to every single woman who works here—including the Canadian newcomer. That was before you got here. I have no doubt it’s the same for their other corporate accounts. You must be really special, because none of us have ever gotten a hand-drawn heart before,” she sneers. “Lucky you.”
“That guy is so insistent he makes me feel like I’m speaking a foreign language. I know there are quite a few differences between American English and British English, but some words cross over—like ‘thanks, but no thanks,’ ‘I’m not interested,’ and ‘not in this lifetime’. He doesn’t seem to understand that no means no, regardless of which side of the pond you find yourself.”
“There’s no point in wasting your breath on Percy McAllister.” Gemma takes a few steps forward and bends down to grab a few of the bags still sitting at my feet. “Come on, let’s take care of these.
I’ve told you before, he’s a lost cause.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” I grab the remainder of the bags and follow her.
“I absolutely love that expression.” She laughs without turning around. “While I was standing there and telepathically sending Percy messages so he understood he had extended his stay, I noticed another enormous bouquet on your desk. Are those for the scorned one?”
“Of course. Who else in the office has been receiving outrageous gifts for the past week from a sorry-ass boyfriend?”
“Good point,” Gemma throws over her shoulder as she keeps walking.
“Piper is milking this moment for all she can.”
“And she should,” Gemma states firmly. “That huge misstep is going to cost her boyfriend a fortune at this rate.”
“I agree. Each bouquet seems to get more and more elaborate.”
“Well, he doesn’t have much of a choice if he wants to still hold on to his balls.” Gemma laughs. Since our hands are full, she turns around and pushes the conference room door with her butt and enters walking backwards.
I’m right on her heels and we both head to the back of the room. We start displaying the food on a narrow table that serves as a credenza for these types of long working sessions. As we get things set up, my mind goes back to the breathtaking flowers.
“I’m sure Dermott will walk a fine line from now on. From the few weeks I’ve worked with Piper, she seems like a one-strike-and-you’re-out kind of girl,” I say, unwrapping the cellophane sheet protecting the tray of breakfast sandwiches.
When Gemma doesn’t respond, I look up at her. The telling way she raises her right eyebrow lets me know immediately that I’m right on the money with my assumption. “The Piper I know would’ve thrown him out without hesitation.” She punctuates her sentence by crumpling the aluminum foil she just uncovered from the basket of muffins into a ball.
“What’s different this time?”
Gemma sighs. She steps towards the garbage bin, lifts her arm in the air, flings her wrist forward and dunks the little silver ball. She turns around to face me and places both hands on her hips. “Piper and I have been working together for the last six years. We both got this job right after graduation. I wouldn’t say we’re best friends, but we’re definitely close. We’ve shared so many intimate details about our lives along the years. She’s dated her fair share of men, but everything is very different with Dermott.”
“Why is that?” Gemma has piqued my curiosity now.
“For the first time in her life Piper is in love. I’m talking madly, blindly, wholly. Trust me, that changes everything.”
“I wouldn’t know.” I shrug.
Gemma smiles at me. “You’re still very young. Give it time. As the birthdays roll by and you approach thirty, your perspective on men and relationships changes dramatically. Piper is thirty-two now and she wants to settle down. In other words, she wants babies. She was hoping that Dermott was the one. This latest bump in their relationship has made her reconsider things, but not enough for her to walk away and start things over with another guy. She’s tired of looking.” Tell me about it. “I know exactly where she’s coming from. Until Nolan and I started living together a couple years ago, I felt the same. It’s only when we got married eight months ago that I truly felt that my quest was finally over. Like it is in pretty much any big city, it’s not easy being single in London.”
Thanks for the warning. “If you think London is rough, try being single in New York City. I think I have a better chance of being hit by lightning twice in my life than finding a desirable mate. And by desirable, I mean not settling.” Which seems to be the only way to go if I don’t want to end up alone. “I’m not talking about scoring a Jason Momoa or a Chris Hemsworth. There are way more women than men in the Big Apple. It makes it more difficult for women to find a partner. It’s even worse when you’re a big girl like me,” I say, slapping my own ass with both hands to emphasize my point. “Back home in Austin, men like their women with some meat on their bones. I never felt like a fish out of water growing up in Texas. I’m invisible in New York—the land of the size zero and the perfect body. In other words, the skinny bitch wins every single time,” I lament.
Gemma takes a few steps and closes the gap between us. She places her hands on my shoulders. “I said ‘not easy’. I didn’t say ‘impossible’. Don’t get all gloomy on me just yet. As much as American women go gaga over British men, our boys love American women. I’ll even sweeten the pot by sharing a little secret—our men appreciate big girls. A lot. I should know,” she says, tapping her hips.
One thing that I absolutely love about London is the fact that so many Londoners look just like me. After a year and a half of struggle in the land of the stick-figure model, it’s so refreshing to see women with plenty of curves.
I shrug. “I guess I don’t have to worry about any of that while I’m on this side of the Atlantic, since I’m only here until the end of the summer. I’m just going to keep it simple, focus on my job and enjoy the scenic view of this amazing city. I’m very open to making new friends, but I’ll refrain from anything that could lead to messiness. In my case, relationships usually end up being a disaster.”
“What are you talking about?” Gemma scolds like a parent. “You can’t believe such rubbish.” I frown. Gemma clues in immediately. “In American, it means ‘don’t feed me that kind of garbage.’ If I were your age, single and living in a foreign country, I wouldn’t worry about dating. Go out there and have some fun. And I’m talking about the adulterated kind… if you know what I mean. It doesn’t have to lead to more than a few hours or a few days of panty-melting romps. I beg of you, don’t go back home without a few saucy shags under your belt.” ‘Romp’ and ‘shag’ are two British words for having sex that were introduced to my vocabulary when I first got here three weeks ago. “If you do, one day you’ll look back and you’ll regret it. I know I would.”
Not that I have any intentions of making life complicated for myself, but I’ll humor her. “That’s fine and all, but I wouldn’t even know where to start when it comes to finding a candidate for this dirty romp you’re suggesting.”
Gemma shoots me a who-the-hell-are-you-kidding look. She firms her grip on my shoulders, almost as if to make sure she has my undivided attention. “Are you going to stand there and tell me you haven’t noticed how Ethan Gordimer pays particular attention to you when he comes over? And before you answer, may I point out since you started, he’s significantly increased purchases for his roster of elite customers from our gallery? We could always expect Ethan to drop by once a month, but lately he’s been paying us weekly visits. And this week, we get to see him twice.”
Gemma’s words surprise me so much I burst out laughing. “Puh-lease. Me? Pfft. No way.” I roll my eyes.
“Everything about your body language screams that what I just said is absolutely preposterous, but you and I both know you’re lying to yourself.”
I shake my head, still unwilling to believe her. “He’s just being friendly because I’m new in town.”
“Hardly.” Gemma’s retort is quick. “Katrina Huntington, aka our Canadian newcomer, only started a week and a half before you did. Ethan barely notices her when he’s here. That’s quite the feat, considering how she seems to be salivating all over herself every time he walks into the gallery. I swear that woman’s neck will pop off one day if she keeps ogling him like that. Then again, I can’t blame her. I might be a married woman, but it’s impossible to ignore the fact that Mr. Gordimer is one drop-dead-sexy hunk.”
I have to disagree with Gemma on a few things. Ethan Gordimer doesn’t just walk like mere mortals. He always struts. The man oozes the kind of confidence I’ve never encountered in my life. If you were to look up “swagger” on Google, his photo would pop up. Don’t even get me started on his mesmerizing smile. And let’s not forget that his sense of style is jaw-dropping. Every time I think he can’t surpass himself when it comes to t
he well-cut suits he wears, he surprises me. Half the time when he glides into the gallery, I have to run to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face because the man is that freaking hot.
My obsession with men in suits started when I moved from Austin to New York City. Crossing the Atlantic is like entering suit porn heaven. And Ethan Gordimer is definitely the king amongst princes.
“Really? He checks me out?” I can barely stifle the grin that’s stretching my lips.
I’ve had a crush on Ethan since the first day he walked into the gallery and flashed his trademark panty-melting smile. There’s no doubt about it, he’s smoldering hot. I’m talking at the level of a suicidal Carolina Reaper hot pepper. Yup. The fact that he has such a warm and welcoming personality is surprising for such an attractive man. From my experience, good-looking men are often quite standoffish. Truth be told, I was hoping his friendliness was more, but I didn’t want to read too much into it. Too many disappointing encounters with men have conditioned me to tread very carefully when it comes to the opposite sex. Not to mention I’d never dare to expect that much from someone like Ethan. I only have the courage to ogle these unattainable hunks from afar. As a big girl, I never know when a guy I’m interested in will quickly categorize me as a “friend only”. Why set myself up for rejection when I don’t have to? Until Gemma shared this juicy tidbit about British men liking girls with plenty of curves, I just figured there was no point in getting my hopes up. Living in New York City will do that to a girl.
“You know as well as I do the office space is all glass. It’s modern, yes, but the configuration feels like we’re working half the time inside a fish tank. It’s hard to hide anything here.”
“So he’s not gay?”
She lets go of my shoulders and places her hands back on her hips. “Does he give you a gay vibe?”
One can never be too sure. After my relationship with Paul, I’ve learned not to assume. “I lived in New York just enough to know that gay guys can be big flirts, but if you don’t have the right equipment, you’re going home alone. If you’re batting for the wrong team, you ain’t getting any.”
Deliciously British Page 2
