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“Why’s that?”
“I suppose it’s mostly because I get easily pissed off when people don’t listen to me talk about things I clearly know a lot about and when they need to be talked into doing things that are obviously a good idea.”
I smile. Yeah, we have a lot in common. “That makes sense.”
“I’m not really into…cajoling.”
I laugh now. “I get it.”
“You do?”
“I mean…I can understand that it could be frustrating. But I am actually very good at…cajoling,” I tell her. I let my voice drop just a little on that last word, though.
I would really, really love to cajole this woman into a few things.
“But I’ve only been at my job for two months too,” I add.
“What? Really?” She looks interested, as if she’s realizing how similar our situations sound.
“Yep. I think I made a huge mistake telling my grandfather I’d take over the…” I hesitate. She clearly doesn’t know who I am and I decide to keep it that way at the moment. “…business…from him.”
“Wow. Sorry. Are you bad at the job too? Or do you just not like it? Is there not enough cajoling involved?”
I’m still smiling but I can feel it dim. “I guess the one person I can’t cajole is my grandfather,” I say. “Though I think I could be good at the job. My grandfather just doesn’t want to listen to my ideas.”
She nods. “That’s frustrating.” She pauses, then asks, “Is your job important? Are there things about it you like? Reasons you want to stick with it?”
I study her. Suddenly I want to know everything about her. What she does. Why she does it. How she feels about it. What she’s good at. What she’s not as good at. Where she wants to be in five years. In ten. Finally, I nod. “Yes. At least, it could be.” God, there’s so much I could do. That I want to do. “I have hopes it can be.” I watch her as she takes in my answer. She looks pleased. “How about you?” I ask her. “Is your job important?”
She wets her lips and I don’t even try to keep from watching that. Then she nods and my gaze locks on hers.
“Yeah. At least, it could be. I have hopes it can be,” she says, echoing my words back to me.
That does something to me. I feel a hot kick in my gut and my fingers curl into her hips instinctively.
We have a connection. It feels like more than just having something in common.
“Okay, how about this,” I say, after we stare at each other for a few seconds. “How about we both give our jobs another six months. Then we meet up here again, have a drink, and compare notes? See how it’s going? Maybe knowing that we’re in the same boat, that someone else is out there doing a job that’s frustrating them but that has potential to be great will help a little.”
“Six months from now will be Christmas,” she points out.
“Perfect. We’ll both be here to see family. We’ll meet here at Ellie’s and either toast to things being better or drown our sorrows together.”
She nods and I feel a very strong sense of relief wash through me.
“Yeah. Okay,” she says.
I give her a bright smile. “Great. I’ll be looking forward to it.”
I suddenly spin her out, then pull her back in, as the music shifts. Again. We’ve danced through two songs already.
Her smile is bigger now. “You’re a good dancer.”
“Thanks.”
“You realize you are completely overqualified to be here, right?”
I chuckle and look around. I lived here in this tiny Louisiana town for a few months before going home to Cara and I always felt completely at home here. “I'm a bit overdressed, at least.”
