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The restaurant’s phone rings, and I pick up the line from my office. “Silver Park Brewery, this is Quinn.”
“Hi Quinn, this is Trish from corporate. Do you have a few minutes to discuss travel plans?”
Travel plans? Oh, Dallas.
“Yeah, sure, Trish.”
She proceeds to ask me if I have a seat preference, any food allergies, if I require air sickness medication, neck pillows, or eye masks.
I tell her I don’t need or have any of those things and wonder why she’s asking. They never serve food on flights anymore, and the flight from Denver to Dallas is less than two hours. I know this because I always have a layover there when I fly to Alabama. She thanks me and tells me she’s going to be sending me the airline information, along with details about the convention and hotel.
“While I have you on the phone, Misters Silverstone would like to schedule a time for you to come in and speak with the three of them about your upcoming promotion. What day is good for you, hon?”
“Uh, any day that I can get someone to cover for me here, I guess. Well, except tomorrow, I got a doctor’s appointment.”
“Let’s do this upcoming Friday then. How’s eight-thirty a.m. for you? We’ll make it a breakfast meeting.”
Ooh, fancy.
“Sure, Trish, that will work.”
“Perfect,” she replies. “I’ll send you a reminder email, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Enjoy the rest of your day!” she chirps and ends the call.
I go back into the restaurant and talk to a few of my employees. I debate telling them about my promotion and wonder how they’re going to take it, but I realize that might be jumping the gun a little bit. I don’t even have a start date yet.
My cell buzzes in my back pocket and I pull it out to see a text from Lincoln:Thank you for getting back with me. I’ll be there tomorrow at 9:30 sharp to pick you up.
I grin and text back:I know if I tell you that I can drive myself, you will just ignore it, you stubborn goat. So I will see you at 9:30, sir.
“What’s got you all smiley?”
I look up to see Carter washing glasses and drying them on a towel behind the bar.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I reply coyly.
“Uh, yeah, of course I wanna know. Who you texting that’s got you all cheesy grinnin’ like that?”
I hesitate then say, “Just the boss.”
“Ooh. Havin’ a little office romance with that tall, fine-ass CEO, are ya? I mean, I’m assuming it’s the tall one since the other two are married. Not that that ever stops some of these dogs, honey.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “It’s not like that. He’s just helping me out with… something.”
I debate sharing my news about my probation being cut short early with Carter, but none of my employees know I have a record, so I decide it’s better to keep it that way.
“Oh, I bet he wants to help you with something, all right. I see the way he looks at you.”
My eyes widen. “What? There’s no way you’ve seen him lookin’ at me any ol’ way. That boy’s closed off tighter than a cellar door.”
He waggles a finger at me and slings the towel over his shoulder. “Oh, no, girlfriend. Trust me, that boy’s got the hots for you for sure. He’s always checking out your ass when you turn around. He only smiles when he walks in the door once he spots you. It’s noticeable because he never smiles otherwise. Your silly cellar door reference is correct in that regard—except when it comes to you, honey.”
Carter turns and grabs the stainless-steel cleaner, spraying it on surfaces and then wiping it with a microfiber cloth.
“Excuse me!”
