This is bad.Worse than I thought. There’s so much pink in this building, I don’t even think one bottle of Pepto would cover it. Couldn’t these people have looked up a Valentine’s color palette? Light purple, rose, red… hell, even a soft blue would’ve worked, but no… all I see is a sea of pinkness, with some white sprinkled in for fun.
Then there are the hearts. I mean I get it—hearts and fairy lights are cute, but there’s a fine line between just right and obscene—and what Rebecca has done to this place is firmly in the obscene camp. If it wasn’t for the ones at my complex or the ones I passed by on my way here, I’d swear she bought every heart and twinkle light in Lockton.
Pink and white fairy lights hang from every flat surface, rendering the overhead lights useless. Their usual soft glow darkens to not diminish the effect of the small twinkling bulbs. Walls, the floor, and even tables and back of chairs sports hearts of all shapes and sizes. No surface was safe from their horrible decorating skills.
The top of the waiting area in Howie’s Beef ‘n’ More is filled to the brim with heart-shaped balloons, the strings dangling only a couple of inches from the occupants’ heads. Several of us are in line, waiting to be checked in by Bethany, then turned over to Rebecca to be escorted to their tables. They’re wearing various shades of, you guessed it, pink, causing them to blend in with the surroundings. Tiffany is missing, which is odd. With only two—well, three counting me if I make it through the night—employees, I figured it would be all hands on deck. I guess it pays to be best friends with the boss.
“Pretty slow process, huh?” a deep voice says from behind me.
Okay. I have two options. One, ignore. Two, engage. As usual, my brain says to ignore. We already have to make nice with one stranger, don’t want to push our energy bank to add another one. But my gut, which typically stays out of these things, begs me to turn around.
What can it hurt? After this, I don’t have to see another living person as I want. Amber included. After a day of being so-called ‘normal’ and actually socializing with people—especially strangers—I have to take a few hours to decompress or recharge, as the experts call it. If not, I get overwhelmed, and that’s not an emotion I love. Hence the reason I choose to limit, or rather avoid, contact with a select few and even them I need a break from them sometimes. Amber and my family are the only ones who seem to understand my need for isolation, the others leaving me behind when one too many phone calls went unanswered.
I twist my head to address the man behind me, prepared to say something witty like, “I know, right,” but nothing comes out. My mouth is frozen, but my eyes? My eyes are working just fine, wide and alert as they take in the man in front of them. “See?” my gut says, delighting in being right.
Oh, I see all right. I see a man who is way out of my league, but damn fun to look at. Adorably sexy is how I would classify him. Short dirty-blond hair, crystal blue eyes, and the best-kept beard mustache combo I’ve run across, he’s more city than rugged, but no less stacked. The red polo he’s wearing does nothing to hide the definition of his toned chest.
Willing myself to stop staring at his face like a lunatic, my eyes drop to his… pants. And I refuse to admit that they were looking at anything else.
“We match,” I blurt out, noticing his black chinos. My neck is starting to hurt from its awkward position, so I turn to face him fully, surprised by my boldness.
“God, I hope so.” That voice. Warm and deep, it floats through the air, settling on me like a weighted security blanket. I could listen to him talk forever.
Finally, my ears catch up to my brain and I process what he just said. Or what I think he said. It’s a little loud in here. Slow, sultry music is blaring from the ceiling, making it difficult to hear unless you lean in close. That was probably Rebecca’s idea.
Fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, I repeat my previous statement, giving him a chance to repeat his reply. “Umm, our outfits kinda match.”
He leans forward. Slowly lifting the corners of his mouth in a heart-stopping, panty-melting smile, blue eyes hold mine in their gaze. “They do. But I meant what I said. I hope we match.”
Well… okay then. Mystery solved. As unbelievable as it might be, this gorgeous man took one look at me and decided he wants me as his. His match, that is. Not as his for life. Because that would be silly. Nobody takes one look at someone and decides they are their forever. But if you could… I’d choose him. Not only is he sexy as hell, but he also smells divine. All warm and seductive, like his voice.
“Good to know.”
“Good to know what?” I blink at the man now smirking at me.
“Good to know that you’d choose me to fall in love with. I’ll remind you of that later. Oh, and it’s my sandalwood soap you’re smelling.”
The bad thing about spending so much time alone is all your inner thoughts sometimes leak out. I talk to myself often and forget that is a no-no when you’re out in public. Embarrassed by my mistake, I stumble around for something to say when I’m saved by the shrill call of my name. Rebecca is beside me and she does not look happy.
I’m confused by her anger at first. She’s the one who demanded I be here, but then I remember. I’m here for Brad. Not the sexy stranger who has my stomach tied up in knots. My luck these past two days has been for shit.
“Sarah,” he pauses. “I like it. I’m Mark.”
Is it weird that I love how my name sounds coming out of his mouth? It’s definitely weird.
“Hello, Mark. Just sit tight and I’ll have Bethany take you to your match,” Rebecca says, stressing the word ‘your’ for both our benefits.
Mark looks disappointed and for a second there, I think he’s going to grab me and run. Sensing the same thing, Rebecca clutches my arm and all but drags me behind her. “Come along, Sarah. Let’s not keep your forever love waiting.”
Once we’re clear of the crowd, she hisses in my ear, “Don’t be a whore and fuck this up for me. Or Tiffany.”
Stunned by her admission and blatant insult, I exclaim, “What? A whore!? I just talked to the man. I didn’t offer my… services to him. And what does Tiffany have to do with anything?”
To her credit, Rebecca has the decency to appear sheepish before dropping another truth bomb on me. “She met Mark and decided to go after him herself. Nobody said it was against the rules for employees to find love amongst our clients.”
Of all the shady things these vipers have done, this has to take the cake. “You’re the boss! You make the rules!”
I stop short, propelling Rebecca forward. She stumbles but ultimately catches herself before hitting the concrete floor. We’re halfway to the table and I can just see Brad leering at me like the creep he is.