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“That’s not my intention. It’s just the way I talk.”
I shake my head. I’m not accepting that answer.
“So, it’s normal for you to tell grown people to ‘be quiet’ and ‘sit down’. That’s how you talk to children, not adults.”
“Fine. I’ll play by your rules outside of the office.”
And he still doesn’t get it…
Even inside the building, he shouldn’t be talking to people like that.
“Can you smile now?” he asks.
I frown instead.
“Here we are,” the waitress says, bringing over our entrees. She lowers both plates to the table at the same time, and what do you know? Mr. DePaul’s usual is exactly what I ordered – coconut shrimp, regular fried shrimp and fries.
“Isn’t that a coincidence? We have similar tastes.”
“Yeah. That’s surprising. I would’ve expected you to be a caviar and calamari type of guy.”
Short of an eye roll, I say, “So stereotypical. I don’t like either,” he says, holding a coconut shrimp by the tail and taking the edible piece into his mouth.
While I eat, I discreetly watch him eat. He’s so thorough – doesn’t leave anything behind but the tails. And he doesn’t like ketchup on his fries. He eats them plain.
He smirks. “Are you just going to watch me eat or—?”
“I wasn’t watching you,” I respond, shamefaced.
“Sure you weren’t.”
“How about we don’t talk and just eat?” I suggest.
“If that’s what you want, but it’s going to be awkward, don’t you think?”
I glance up at him again. He has a sly smirk on his face. He knows exactly what he’s doing, which makes me believe this was no coincidence. But how did he know where I was going for lunch?
He eats more of his fries. I try to make myself eat because I am hungry, but now that he’s sitting here, I feel like I can’t stomach the food. Instead, his energy is pulling my attention across the table and once it’s there, my eyes trace the shape of his lips and the edges of the beard that suits his face so well. Dang, he’s hot. I pick up my innocent margarita and take a sip to cool off. Mr. DePaul is so outrageously handsome, the women sitting around us are staring at him like he’s a piece of chocolate. He may as well be with his delectable skin tone and dark hair. If they only knew the man he was on the inside. Ugh…
It’s the inside that needed massive amounts of work.
I say, “This is interesting.”
“What is?” he asks.
“If it’s not about work, you don’t have much to talk about.”
“That’s how it is when you’re the CEO. My life is my company.”
“And you don’t see anything wrong with that?” What I wanted to say was perhaps that’s why you got a stick up your butt.
“Why would I? It’s who I am.”
“There’s more to life than work, work, and more work.”
“You sound like my mother.”
Mother. I want to ask him if he’s close to his parents and all that – normal things, but nothing about us having lunch together is normal. He’s the CEO of the company I work for. He’s my boss’s boss. I ain’t asking him anything personal. I don’t want to be on that level with him.
