As work events go, this one is surprisingly enjoyable, and it has nothing to do with the work we’re discussing and everything to do with the company I’m in. Robyn’s fun, and I can’t remember the last time I had any. It’s a sobering thought of what my life has become over the past eighteen months. Work, eat, sleep, and repeat. I’ve watched enraptured as she’s woven a spell over the entire office, drawing them in with her personable charm and beguiling beauty. They’re like moths to a flame, and I wonder if I look as beguiled by her as the rest of them. The most enthralling thing is that she’s completely ignorant to it.
I’ve finally got her to myself as the server delivers our food and places it in front of us. I raise my glass and quirk a brow, saying, “To making new friends.”
“New friends,” she smiles, clinking her chardonnay against my Hennessy.
My glass hasn’t even lowered to the table before she attacks her plate with vigor. I can’t hide my smile.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I dismiss, but she’s paused, fork mid-way to her mouth, waiting. “It’s nice to bring a woman to dinner and have her actually eat something,” I tell her. Pink stains immediately blossom across her cheeks in a flush, and I feel unease wash over me that she’s about to take offense. She doesn’t; instead she shrugs.
“I’m starving, and I’ve always had a pretty big appetite. Sorry.”
Her fork lowers and she adjusts in her seat like the movement somehow shifts her gears and forces her to slow down.
“No need to apologize, Robyn. It’s not a bad thing.”
It really isn’t. I have no problem sitting and watching her eat. I could probably sit and stare at her mouth without ever getting tired.
We eat in a comfortable silence, more due to the fact that she basically inhales her food than any other reason. There isn’t much time to strike up a conversation between bites. It’s got to be the most easygoing dinner date in history. There’re no awkward let’s get to know each other, no forced politeness; it feels like two friends having a meal together. I’m enjoying it until doubt creeps in and has me questioning myself. I’m suddenly wondering if she really has placed me deep in the depths of the friend zone, and that’s why this is so relaxed. The thought is tormenting, and although I do want to be her friend, I can’t deny this intense attraction. I think I’d sell my soul to the devil himself to have my lips pressed against hers. If she tastes as good as she looks, it would be a trade worth making.
“You stare a lot,” she says with a coy smile.
“Sorry, what?”
“People often shy away from eye contact, but not you. I’m not even sure if you’re aware you’re doing it. It’s taking all my will power to not excuse myself to the bathroom and go check if I have food stuck to my face, or between my teeth.”
I knew I was staring, but I didn’t realize how blatantly I was doing it. Shit.
“I like to look at pretty things,” I quip, raising my glass to take a drink. The second the words pass my lips and fall into the small space between us, I want to snatch them right back. It’s too late for that now, so I follow them up with a groan. “That sounded cheesy as hell to my own ears. I don’t even want to know how oily it sounded to you. Let’s pretend that I apologized for the ogling, shall we?” I ask hopefully.
“Your cool points just took a serious nosedive,” she laughs. “It’s going to be a lot of work to bring them back up to par.”
I laugh despite myself and shrug. “It was all running so smoothly too. Damn! Let’s get all the cliché bullshit out of the way. Then if you still like what’s left, we can be friends and the next time I say something as smarmy and asinine you can just tell me to shut the hell up.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” she beams. “But won’t it be awkward if I don’t like what’s left?” she challenges, raising one brow and piercing me with a smirk that I’m feeling simmer all the way down in the pit of my stomach.
“Sweetheart, that ain’t ever gonna happen,” I tell her in my best attempt at a smooth southern drawl. She almost splutters her wine back into her glass, and I pass her my napkin with a wide grin.
“Okay, hit me with them…let the question and answer session begin.”
I cough, and sit taller, back straight and taut like I’m about to begin conducting an interview.
“So, I really want to get to know you. Why don’t you tell me your likes and dislikes, a little about your family, what you like to do for fun?” I smile.
“Really,” she retorts, looking completely disinterested and utterly unimpressed. “I give you free reign, and that’s all you can muster? You’re asking for my backstory, but let’s be honest. You’re not interested in the answers; you’re probably under the delusion that a woman’s favorite subject is herself, and I hate to break it to you, but I’m not like most women. How about I answer the questions you really want to know, and we can save ourselves a little boredom?”
Wow. Not what I was expecting.
“I think I just fell in love with you,” I joke. “I like how direct you are, but it’s also a little intimidating. I’ll attest to you not being like most women.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was intended as one, Robyn. Okay…first question. You’re single, right?”
“Right,” she smiles.
“And it’s a new thing?”
“Almost four weeks.”
Damn. Suddenly the word rebound is dancing in the forefront of my mind. I don’t do rebounds; they’re messy at best and a total disaster in general.
“Is that the reason you were so adamant that this date would lead nowhere?”
She looks surprised by my question and leans back into the plush golden fabric of the chair, cradling her glass of wine as though mulling over some great mystery of the universe. I wait for her reply a little too eagerly. She’s lost in her own thoughts, and I begin to think that she’s forgotten I’d even asked her a question. Her brows are furrowed, and I’m sure I see when her pain arrives. The gentle curve of her mouth flattens into a hard line, and I don’t know her enough to know if she’s upset, angry or both, but it has me regretting my candor.
“You don’t have to answer that, Robyn. Please forgive—”
“No, it’s fine,” she interrupts. “Yes, I guess Daniel is why I’m so closed off. Among other things, he left me without warning, and I’m mad that I didn’t see it coming. To add insult to injury, he kind of screwed me over and left a trail of destruction that I have no choice but to clean up. I have so much going on at the moment. If I’m honest, I don’t think I could add anything else to it without dropping the ball and everything in my life imploding.” She sighs, breathing out a long exaggerated breath. “You probably think I’m being dramatic, correct?”
“I don’t know you enough to make that judgment,” I tell her. “I’d like to, though.”
A blush colors her somber pallor and her lip quirks. I love that I’m having an effect on her, even after her confession.
“I like you, Cole. I wasn’t expecting to this much. Your timing kind of sucks!”
My heart leaps and my stomach bottoms all at once. She likes me, and she doesn’t want to. Her life is complicated, mine’s demanding, and there are a million reasons why I should just walk away, bow out and admit defeat graciously. But she’s an enigma that I could quite happily see myself spending an inordinate amount of time attempting to figure out. She’s unwittingly issued a challenge: she’s a Rubik’s Cube, and I’m already addicted.