But what was he doing here? How did he know he could find me here?
“Do you know him?” Beth asked again.
“I met him last week. But I don’t know what he’s doing here.”
“Go ask him and find out.”
She slid the headset off of my head and pushed me in the appropriate direction even as I began to protest. And then he saw me and smiled, watching me as I approached the counter.
“Hi,” he said before I could get a word out. “I hope you don’t mind my coming here. I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Is this about the job?”
“No,” he said, his eyes falling a little. “Unfortunately, we already filled that position.”
“Oh.”
He must have seen something in my face because he looked uncomfortable for a second. He glanced at something behind me then cleared his throat. “I was wondering if I could take you to dinner, actually.”
“Yeah?”
He focused on me again. “Yeah. Would you be available tonight? Kind of early, if you don’t mind, because I have to be on site at six tomorrow morning.”
“Yes. I can do that.”
“Great. How about I pick you up here after your shift?”
“I actually get off in about an hour.”
“Then I’ll hang around,” he said.
I nodded, not sure what else to say. He’d just asked me out! My heart was pounding, and my mouth didn’t seem to know how to work. So I stammered a second as I walked backward, nearly walking straight into one of the coffee machines. Beth saved me at the last second, grabbing my arm and pulling me back over to the drive-thru cubby.
“Did he just ask you out?”
I looked at her and began to laugh, pressing my hand to my mouth to keep him from hearing.
“I wish I was you. Never thought I’d say that,” Beth said as she wandered over to the window to hand a customer her drink.
“Gee, thanks.”
Thank God we were busy. I was rushing around so much that I only got to steal one or two glances at him. And those glances—he was so beautiful! I wanted to just stand there and stare at him for hours and hours. He sat next to the window and stared at his cellphone most of the time. The light behind him, the way his eyelashes made little shadows on his cheeks…I don’t think I’d ever seen a man quite like him before. And he wanted to go out with me. Every time that thought crossed my mind, my heart pounded, my hands shook, and I nearly splashed hot coffee on myself more than once.
“Get out of here,” Beth told me the moment the clock read five.
“Are you sure? You don’t want me to wait for Kyle?”
“No. Go. I’ll cover the drive-thru till he comes in.”
I slipped away before she could change her mind. I went into the bathroom and washed my face in the sink, running my fingers through my hair and then twisting it back into the knot I’d worn it in most of the day. It looked a little messy, a little too unwashed, but it would have to do. I pulled mascara and lip gloss from my bag, trying to improve my pale countenance a little. I wasn’t really one of those girls who wore makeup all the time—my aunts insisted it wasn’t necessary because I had the Giles family perfection when it came to skin—but a little makeup on special occasions couldn’t hurt. Right?
I really wished Lisa was here with her bag of magic tricks that included an entire drug store full of makeup selections.
I stared at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t imagine what he might see in me that inspired him to come all the way here to take me to dinner. My skin was always too pale, my freckles so dark against that pale skin that they looked like little marks made by the tip of a dark pen. My nose was too long, too thin. My eyes too wide and green. I liked my hair, most days. It was a deep mahogany that was naturally long and thick, much to Lisa’s chagrin. It was the one thing she had always openly envied while I envied her perfectly tanned skin, her blond hair, and her boyish curves. She looked like a supermodel, the kind of girl every guy I’d ever met wanted. But me, I had too many curves and there was nothing boyish about them. Lisa and I could share clothes, but I was always stretching out her sweaters, and her skirts tended to be a little short on me.
I was not the kind of girl a guy like Mr. Handsome could possibly want. Yet, he was outside waiting for me.
I shoved my apron in my bag and tucked my blouse into my jeans. That was about as good as it was going to get.
He was still staring at his phone when I walked up to his table. I waited for him to notice me, a little reluctant to interrupt what looked like something important if his slight frown was any indication.
But then it took him so long to look up that I was beginning to feel like a fool. Other customers were staring, a couple of college girls whispering and pointing. I cleared my throat.
“Hey,” he said, that frown instantly disappearing as his eyes moved over me. “You ready to go?”
“Whenever you are.”
He immediately stood and slid that phone into his back pocket. “I’m parked out back,” he said, gesturing for me to lead the way.
There was a pickup truck and a BMW at the back of the parking lot. I assumed the pickup truck was his. I mean, it seemed like a reasonable assumption. He was a construction worker dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. So, I was more than mildly surprised when he walked to the Beemer.
He opened the passenger side door and gestured widely with his hand.
“You first, my lady.”
“Why thank you, sir.”
I climbed in, afraid to touch anything. The last time I’d ridden in a Beemer, I accidentally reset all the preprogrammed radio buttons. Granted, I was five, but it was still one of my least proud moments. So I sat on my hands until he opened the door. Then I pulled them out and clutched them in my lap, afraid he’d think I was odd if he saw me sitting on my hands like a five year old.
We drove in awkward silence for a few minutes. I didn’t know what to say. And he didn’t seem too inclined to lessen the awkwardness by saying something to break the silence. Before I knew it, we were pulling into the parking lot of a popular restaurant.
“Is this okay?” he asked. “Do you like pasta?”
“Sure.”
He got out of the car and came around to help me. He took my hand, and his skin was so soft, so warm, that thoughts I probably shouldn’t be having this early—like the thought of how nice that hand would feel on my belly, between my thighs—were surging through me until I had to bite my lip, hoping that little bit of pain would bring my thoughts back to the practical.
After we were seated, he ordered a nice bottle of red wine, and we both settled on the shrimp scampi. Suddenly, we were left staring at each other. I picked up my wine glass and sipped a little of the cool liquid, quite impressed with the dry, but not bitter taste.
“I guess you’re wondering why I invited you to dinner.”
“I was curious.”
He pressed his hands to the table and stared at them for a minute, as though he was nervous. Then he looked up at me, his eyes searching my face for a second.
“Do you remember when you filled out the paperwork for the application to work at Thorn Construction?”
I nodded.
“There was a nondisclosure clause in all of that.”
I remembered. I thought it was kind of odd that it would be included, but I signed it because I really wanted the job. The fact that he was bringing it up now made me wonder if this was more than just a simple date.
“The clause is still in effect even though you weren’t offered a job.”
“Okay.”
“So what I’m about to say to you, you can’t tell anyone without penalty.”
Apparently, I was wrong; this clearly this wasn’t a date. “Are you offering me a job?” It was the least I could hope for. Clearly, he wasn’t interested in me. I had known that part was too good to be true.