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“What are you working on?” I ask, stepping closer to him so I can peer over his shoulder at his desktop screen. My, my, my, that’s a lot of information on those spreadsheets.
Like a teenage boy whose mom is about to walk in and find his hasty image search of “hot naked ladies,” he scrambles to minimize hisExcel windows. The spreadsheets disappear before my eyes, revealing his desktop background. It’s a screenshot of last year’s record earnings report.
I wonder then if he has any dating profiles. I imagine his bio reads like a job posting:
Cole Clark, age 30
Seeking full-time romantic partner.
I enjoy pivot tables, closed loop communication, and achieving corporate synergy. I don’t play games (unless rules are clearly defined).
Position Requirements:
5 years experience in polite small talk. Must be able to lift up to 2 pounds for occasional hand holding (waffle style preferred).
Benefits:
Requited love at fair market rate. To become vested after 4 years of service.
Ishe on dating apps?
And why does the idea of him matching with some equally goal-oriented female cyborg twist my stomach into a tight knot? I can picture them now, nerding out over HTML codes and QuickBooks updates.
Ormaybe that’s not his type at all. Maybe he likes giggly girls who serve drinks at the Bistro. Yuck.
“I’d prefer to get this over with so I can get on with my night. What do you want?”
“Manners. Decorum.A smile.”
His scowl tells me I’m not getting a single one of the three, so I sigh.
“You owe me.”
His eyebrows arc up in disbelief. “Ioweyou?” He shakes his head. “I can’t wait to hear where this is going ...”
I step closer to him—attempting to go toe to toe—and appear as intimidating as possible. My blonde hair doesn’t help with that. I should have worn a beanie.
“Yesterday at the pool, you scared Blaze away.”
I cross my arms over my chest and cock my hip to the side. There; I’m no longer to be trifled with.
It’s clear from the lack of contrition in his expression that Cole doesn’t agree with my assessment of things. “He was on the clock, and last I checked, flirting with female staff doesn’t constitute any of his daily tasks. He’s not getting paid to ogle you in a bikini.”
There’s a distinct anger in Cole’s tone. In fact, if he were someone else,anyother man, I’d think he was jealous. However, with Cole, I know his anger lies solely in loss of productivity for the company. Equations are swirling in his head.Maximum Drink Output − Bikini Observing = WARNING WARNING WARNING.
“He wasn’toglingme,” I press.
He all but snorts.
“His tongue was lolling out of the side of his mouth,” he responds dryly. “If this were a cartoon, his heart would have danced out of his chest.”
I hum like this is news to me. “Well, at least we’re getting somewhere. You agree that Blaze is attracted to me ...”
I dangle the sentence out until he’s forced to give a slow, resigned nod.
I smile. “Good, now I need you to help me woo him over once and for all.”
His expression clouds over with irritation. “That can’t possibly fall to me. Go get Camila or Lara to give you advice about how to win over men, and leave me out of it.”
