Now that it's just us again in the corner here, my awkwardness comes full force to the front as he finishes his kolache.Say something, Mercy. Small talk. Something. Anything."So, Mr. Sh—"
"So, Mercy—"
We look at each other in shared amusement as our words clash together. Having his soul-piercing gaze focused solely on me once more makes my heart dive-bomb into my stomach again.
"Hey, Mercy—wannameet up with us tonight?" Another interruption comes in the form of Garrick, my soon-to-be boss. I swear, the universe is conspiring against us. I can't get more than a few seconds alone with this man. Not that anything could ever come of it because I'm sure I'm not his type. "A couple of us guys aregonnago to Midnight Blues."
Garrick's invitation makes Amos tense up, but I don't know why it would. One of the foremen—and the newly appointed boss—Garrick is always trying to get me to expand my social borders. He means well, I know. And he isn't bad looking, either. I’ve always been a sucker for a man who can work with his hands in more ways than one.
Of course, all six guys here fit that description—even Wyatt, if a person were in the market for a polar bear. They’re all hot and actually know their stuff when it comes to taking care of the clients. Even if they hadn't been blessed in the looks department, their woodworking skills alone would be enough to tip me over the edge. Self-sufficiency is a turn-on at any age.
Not that I’vebeenwith any of them. Or anyone, for that matter.
I’m a virgin still. Practically a unicorn in this day and age, but moving in and out of foster homes meant not getting attached to anyone. The friend made today may be left behind tomorrow. Or worse—move on without you. Apparently,my habit of detachment carried over into adulthood, too, because I've never been able to be emotionally vulnerable with a man, let alone physically.
But I really don't feel like watching a bunch of grown men getting drunk and trying to land women while I sit awkwardly on the bar stool and get ignored. Count me out. So,I answer as I always do. "Oh...thanks, but I think I'll pass." I soften my rejection with a small smile, noticing that Amos looks almost relieved at my answer.Why would he even care?
"What about you, Amos? Yougonnacome with us this time?"
Amos leans back against the counter, long legs looking oh-so-fine in his well-worn jeans. "You know I have better things to do than getting wasted. I'm a retired man now.Too old for that crap. Besides, I have special plans of my own." He turns and directs his stare straight at me. "What are you doing tonight, Mercy?"
Now I’m the center of attention.Great. "Oh, just hanging around the house. Maybe baking a dessert or something." Exactly what every one of my weekends looks like. Doing nothing, that is. Baking is something I absolutely have to be in the mood for. I don't even know why I threw that out there. Must have been because the question caught me by surprise.
"Dessert sounds amazing. I like sweet things. Especially before bed."
His stare melts me on the spot.Does he mean...I wish I had more experience with men because I truly can’t tell if he’s flirting or throwing out a random fact about himself. This is part of why I’m perpetually single. Can’t read innuendo to save my life.
"Amos, what do you think about doing this for the Henderson project..."
Amos reluctantly drags his eyes away from me and answers Garrick’s question. I zone out when they start talking construction lingo. After years of being ignored, I've perfected the art of blending into the background, even in a room of only eight people. Instead, I watch everyone else. People divulge so much about themselves when they're watched unawares. Actions are real, without posture; hidden emotions are revealed.
"Are you okay, Mercy? You seem even more quiet than usual."
Eliza's voice startles me. How do I answer? Does she really want to know? I have a tendency to overshare at the most inopportune times, not knowing when people are asking to be polite or because they really want to know. It's only when their eyes glaze over that I realize my mistake. I don't want to make this blunder with her so I shove down everything that comes to mind and simply say, "I'm okay, thanks."
And, as is the usual reaction to that, Eliza accepts it at face value. "What you need is a nice relaxing weekend, huh? Don't we all? All right, boys! Take the rest of the food with you," she calls out. "Time to get this day started so we can get out of here."
"That's what I'm talking about!" hollers one of the guys as he suggestively grinds his hips. "Party at Midnight Blues, baby!"
Parties never appealed to me. Staying in my own little nest that I've made just for myself is a much better way to relax. For me, at least. Internally shaking my head, I walk back to my desk in the open reception area, stopping to adjust the sales tax exemption certificate on the wall. Just a smidge to the right.There.Someone keeps moving this—andonlythis—off-center every day and I haven't been able to catch them yet. It's driving me nuts, but at least it's one constant thing to look forward to when I get to work. I'd have fixed it earlier if I hadn't had the boxes of food in my arms.
Eliza’s already emailed me some tasks to work through. Should be a breeze to get through them beforenoon, especially if it stays slow like it is right now.
One down, about fifteen more to go. Then theding!of the front entrance interrupts my roll. Of course. I have all the luck. Holding back my sigh, I paste a somewhat friendly smile on my face. "Welcome to Shay Construc—"
Oh. It'shim.
Flynn. A smarmy guy who hits on me every time he picks up the water cooler bottles to refill them. I’m sure lots of women would be attracted to him, but there’s just something about him that rubs me the wrong way. Not to wish ill will on anyone, but I truly hope he finds another job or Eliza finds another water company.
He folds his arms across the top of my tall reception desk and leans down, eyes flicking down and pressing an almost tangible leer against me. "Hey, babe," he tells my chest. "Did y'all move the empty jugs or am I just overlooking them?"
Ugh. I may not be able to read innuendo that well, but I understand this loud and clear. My shirt isn't even tight or low cut, but he makes me feel as if it is. Crossing my arms over my chest, I glance down the hallway to the left, desperately praying Eliza can hear this mess from her office and rescue me. I know I should be able to stand up for myself, but I don't like conflict. My shyness is a curse and makes me seem younger than my thirty-three years. It's pathetic, but I blame my social anxiety on my childhood.
"Flynn," I start nervously, "you know where they—"
"The watercooler'sin the break room, dickwad. Does this look like the break room?" Amos's hard voice from behind me is a welcome interruption. How did he get here without me hearing him?Stealth ninja.
"All right, all right, my man. I hearya. Leave the fine chick with the hot legs alone and do my job. Water cooler in the break room. Got it." Flynn's hands raise in surrender as he backs away.
