Taking a much
needed swig of my beer I look away and pretend to watch the fireworks. I’ve
worked long hours in the pit the last couple of weeks so I’m happy to say I
know Chad a little bit better, professionally speaking, than I did when I
accepted the Fourth of July invite. He’s a meticulous and capable
physician, also one of those guys born
with an abundance of quiet self-confidence, the type that just know they are
awesome in their bones and don’t have to try. Couple that with his tall, not
overly muscular body and pretty boy face and you’ve got most women’s version of
heaven. Me, I consider him a recipe for disaster. His type makes me exceedingly
uncomfortable because I never know what they are thinking unless they come
right out and say it, and let’s face it, most guys are not that forward. Being
unable to read the looks he sometimes casts my direction has given me
butterflies and sweaty armpits on more than one occasion.
“Do I make you nervous Veronica?”
Holy shit! Yes you make me nervous, very, very nervous.
You’re probably the only person on this entire boat who isn’t busy worrying
about themselves and what everyone else thinks about them. You’re dangerous…
you seem to see past the bologna and straight to the heart of people.
“No. I mean, we don’t really know
each other, but no.” I lie and tear my gaze away from the fireworks to look at
him. Someone once told me eye contact makes any lie more convincing.
Smirking, Chad takes another sip of beer,
seemingly unconvinced. “You’re very
pretty.”
“Thanks,”
I toss back, unimpressed.
I know I’m pretty - my
parents’ superficial friends had nothing better to say about me so they reiterated
over and over for my mother’s benefit that at least I was pretty, and pretty
girls always make it in this world.
“Ouch, would you have preferred I say you were
ugly?” He laughs. Apparently my reply had contained more frost than intended.
Thank God for the blanket that’s preventing him from seeing the rings of sweat
developing on my shirt.
“I’m
sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude,” I mumble sheepishly.
“I’m
hurt but I think we can fix that.” Sultry brown eyes scrutinize me, sending the
butterflies in my stomach into a flurry, but the humorous twist of his mouth
makes me think he’s just teasing me for my offensive retort.
Could he be flirting with me?
“I
think you should take me to dinner,” he says matter of fact without a hint of
arrogance.
“You
do,” I merely state in response. Yup definitely flirting… where is that good
for nothing scoundrel Archie when you need him?
Sucked into my own head
again, it takes a minute to realize Chad is waiting, brows raised, for
me to respond.
“Oh,
I’m sorry, I don’t date co-workers,” I reply at last.
A slight frown before he downs
the last of his beer is the only indication he gives that I’ve confounded him
by coming up with a loophole he can’t ignore.
“You’re
new to Portland,
right?”
“Right.”
I answer the rhetorical question well aware he knows I’m not from around here.
“There’s
this novelty bakery with the best donuts on the planet. Let me be the first to
introduce you to it.”
Donuts huh? That’s not a date, that’s a quick stop off before
work. Twenty minute tops - I can do that.
“You
can’t live in Portland
without experiencing Voodoo Donuts at least once.”
“Voodoo
Donuts,” I repeat, sure that I hadn’t heard him right but the humorous quirk to
his mouth and his guileless expression let me know I got it right the first
time.
What the hell kind of bakery has a name like that?
“Okay
so what morning do you want to do this?” I ask.
He stands and reaches for
the empty drink I wasn’t aware I had finished then ambles toward the ladder.
Set to descend he flashes me a victorious playboy smile.
“Oh no one goes to Voodoo
donuts for breakfast. It’s more of a late night venture.” Stunned, I miss my
opportunity to back out as Chad
quickly drops out of sight. I’d been had.
Warning, warning! Donuts in the middle of the night…that’s so a date!
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