“Nothing.” He sets the roll down and reaches for a bottle of beer.
“Nope.” I snatch his arm and spin him around. Well, I don’t spin him around. I don’t have enough strength in my puny arms to move the soldier anywhere he doesn’t want to move. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. I’m being a jerk.”
“Jerk or not. Tell me.”
“I’m doing a course in branding now for my marketing degree.”
I stop him right there. “Marketing degree? You didn’t tell me you were going back to school.”
Pink paints his cheeks as he suddenly finds the floor fascinating. “I started last week. I want to finish my bachelor’s degree.”
“Cool. I’m sure you’ll rock it. Now, tell me what’s wrong with my labels.” I can take constructive criticism. Really, I can.
“They’re a little plain is all. I expected them to represent your personality more.”
Huh. I haven’t given my labels much attention. After all, I wasn’t planning on selling my beer. I know. I know. Why do I have the huge set-up if I’m not selling my beer? I blame the ex. He screwed with my head.
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Not right now, but if you’ll let me, I’d love to put some ideas together.”
Seeing as his earlier gray mood has nearly dissipated, I can’t say no. Besides, maybe he’ll come up with a cool idea.
“Okay, but I can’t put off labeling these bottles. I have an order to fill.”
His smile stretches from ear to ear. I guess he’s totally into this marketing thing.
“What are you waiting for? You don’t need instructions, do you? The labels are self-adhesive.”
He snaps a salute. “Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am.”
His salute has Little Susan waking up and wanting to give him all kinds of orders, mostly of the sexy variety. Maybe I am one of those tag chasers Wally was referring to the other day.
What’s a tag chaser, you ask? I Googled the term. A tag chaser apparently is a woman who is attracted to a man solely because he’s in the military.
Personally, I’ve never been much of a fan of men in uniform. Man was I wrong.