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Professional. No singing.
He’d probably appreciate that, maybe even say yes to funding us this time. Wiping off the counter, I go into the back of the shop. I get out of my sweaty waitress clothes and put on a pair of blue leggings, yellow top and a strawberry colored faux fur jacket.
Then I spray a ton of perfume to make sure I don’t smell, though I have a nagging feeling I just made it worse.
“I’m out,” I say to Dimitra and Roger who both look pretty worn out from being on their feet since seven this morning. “See you on Monday.”
“You were good today,” Dimitra calls, flipping a cloth in the air before she playfully smacks Roger with it, ”keep up the good work and you won’t have to worry about getting fired.”
Gee, thanks.
Scowling at her, I walk out. I’ve already been called to the boss’s office twice before, but hopefully once I impress the people at M&M, they might upgrade me to gold status and let me work there more than I do now. And for an actual paycheck...just sayin.
The coffee shop is on a cobble stoned lane, pressed in between a clothing boutique and a hotel. The icy street is packed with cars and I start shivering when snow starts falling from the moody sky.
Newcastle is nothing like Utah, but I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing.
The alleys are narrow, there’s historical buildings everywhere and even on days when the weather is crap, it still somehow manages to look cozy. The people are overly polite but I wouldn’t exactly call them open and friendly.
Though nobody is as unfriendly as Pendragon who’s in a league of his own. And who, by the way isnotalways on my mind. I haven’t thought of him that much today. Practically not at all. Except from this morning when I was brushing my teeth. And when I was making a floral pattern on the cappuccino.
Andduring my lunch break with Roger while he told me all about his sciatica. I sigh. All right so I think about him a lot, but I fully blame Pendragon for that, and for being one of those people who makes an impression without even saying much.
Wish I had that skill. I talk too much, act too much and I fear that despite that I barely leave an impression at all. Except for maybe a bad one.
My aunt Miriam always told me that the right man will like me for me and hang the moon for me to prove it. She advised me to be picky with whom I choose, and that my man needs to have kind eyes, a patient smile and a rounded belly made for ringing laughter.
I’ve always wondered if she expects me to marry Santa Clause or something because that doesn’t sound like my type at all. And my heart flutters when I’m reminded that my body seems to prefer something with a little more of an edge...
But not someone like Pendragon. Nope, nobody like him and I do not want know what he looks like naked, or on top of me, or diving into the ocean, going deep, his body moving like a wave...
Shit, Zee! Get a grip!
I keep walking, shoving my hands into the pockets of my coat. I whistle silently to myself, minding my own business when I notice someone moving on the opposite street and I tense. I recognize those measured, clear-cut movements, the haughty angle of the chin, the strong shoulders.
Is that...
Tall, well built, moves like an arrogant prick with a big dick...
Yeah, it’s Mr. Pendragon all right and I bite my lip. His amazing eyes scan the area like he’s looking for threats and pedestrians take care not go too close to him. Even they can sense the power radiating from him and they don’t even know him.
Not that I know him. You don’t know people just because they visit your workplace even if it may feel like it since you can’t help but notice some details. Details such as that he wears grey ties on Mondays and navy ties on Fridays, that the screen on his phone shows a vintage aircraft and that he never, ever has cracked lips or dirty fingernails.
Pendragon’s sturdy frame keeps moving away from me and blood goes to my brain like I’m in the middle of a war zone. What do I do now? I can’t just yell at him to stop because that would probably freak him out. And I don’t want to be too pushy and corner him.
But the more time that passes, the more panicky I grow. What if I lose him?
And when he rounds a corner, I let out a squeal and hurry after him, running across the street even though it’s not green light and furious honks from pissed off drivers shower over me.
Brushing my hands through my hair to look presentable, I throw a horrified look in one of the shop windows, only to notice that I look like a drowned rat. But I can’t be vain now, I’m on a important mission and when my eyes locate Mr. Pendragon, I stop when I notice that he has stopped too.
Unaware that I’m stalking him, he looks up at the cinema and the movie posters. I should use this pause of his to my advantage and I start walking again, only to lose him when he disappears inside the cinema.
Oh shoot!
What do I do now?
I can’t follow him in there. The man is going to watch a movie and I can’t just force myself on him and chat him up.
