CHAPTER EIGHT
Today’s beige heels look incredible with my black pencil skirt and light blue long sleeve silk blouse. A matching black blazer finishes the outfit and am ready to start my Wednesday. I don’t even put on walking shoes to feign the possibility I’ll walk to work. Finn and Jake have been my ride the last two days, and as I enter the lobby this morning, I’m greeted by Finn propped in his favorite spot on the wall.
“Good morning, Finn.” I say as I’m halfway across the lobby.
His mouth perks up and he takes two steps toward me dressed in his signature jeans and a blue long sleeve shirt. “Good morning, Aspen. Ready for work?”
“Yup. You know, you could wait for me upstairs in the hallway.”
Jake opens the door as we emerge from the building. “I could, but then it wouldn’t feel the same. I would simply be meeting you for a ride. This feels more official, don’t you think?”
“Um, sure.” His thought process is so convoluted it makes me chuckle.
His hand moves across the backseat and rests on the top of my knee, an area still covered by my skirt. Soft small circles are rubbed on the side of my leg in an absentminded way.
“So, what are you doing after work tonight?” Finn asks.
We continued to text back and forth for a few hours after brunch on Sunday. The exchange even heated up at one point with promises of “things” to come in the future. But so far, besides our morning and afternoon car rides together, Finn and I haven't spent any additional time together. It’s beginning to frustrate the hell out of me.
The tip of his thumb grazes my skin through my skirt. His touch is a flame to my body as it awakens my nerve endings. My thoughts again fall into the gutter. I have to remind myself it’s my knee and to get a grip. “Not much. Trying to cook myself dinner with my limited kitchen skills and not burn down your place in the process.”
“You don’t cook? Have I been neglecting you by not making sure you’re fed every night?”
“No!” At age nine I set a toaster on fire because I buttered my bread before toasting it. I was trying to speed up the process and guarantee soft melty butter. It wasn’t my fault the toaster industry hadn’t caught on to the genius idea yet. After that Ben and my grandma were hesitant to let me near the kitchen. I wasn’t able to practice, which has hindered my skills considerably.
“Icancook. I just… I don’t do it well. But I'm learning.” I hurry to mention my improved skill, but refrain from telling him I attend the school of Food Network Television. I haven’t actually cooked a recipe from one of the shows, but I'm thinking about it. If only I could figure out what thyme is.
“It’s perfect. I was going to ask if you and I could go somewhere fun tonight. It’s a surprise so don’t even ask.” He’s quick to cut off my attempt. “But now that I know you’re incompetent in the kitchen I can force you to join me for dinner so I’m sure you get a complete meal.”
And just like that. I have a date with Finn.
*
A large wooden sign with Dandelion Small Batch Chocolate in bold white letters juts out from a brick building as we walk to the front door. Finn refused to tell me where we were going for dinner tonight, but as we turned on the 101 my curiosity piqued. I have no idea what neighborhood we’re in. I've never been this far past Golden Gate Park, but from the sign and sweet smell as we enter the building, I have a feeling it’s going to involve chocolate. I know, I have an acute sense of perception.
I follow Finn farther into the building and we stop at an area next to the busy counter. “I need to get out and explore more. I had no idea this place was here.” To my right, huge black menu boards display an array of items to order. All of them are chocolate based.
“It’s a local secret.” Finn grabs both my shoulders and with a light touch moves me to his side. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
The place is full of people. Some sit at thick wooden tables eating chocolate concoctions, but most hover around the open area. People ponder the menu boards hanging from an exposed brick wall while others peer over the counter at employees working with chocolate in the back. I consider looking myself, but don’t want to risk losing the spot where Finn stuck me.
A few minutes pass before he returns. “Here. Your hot chocolate gift card.” He hands me a piece of paper. I only peek at it before I mimic his actions and stick it in my pocket.
“Okay, what do I need a gift card for?”
Finn bounces on his feet with excitement. “We’re going on a tour.”
“A chocolate tour?” I will never turn down chocolate. Finn may have found the direct route to my heart.
Before he confirms, a tall woman in jeans and a red t-shirt with the company logo across the front walks up to our group. “Are we all ready to begin?” A few people who had been close by huddle together to form a compact circle. "All right. Let’s go,” she directs us to a partition and waits until we’re all behind the counter.
Fifteen minutes later, our group of eight stands in front of a television while a recorded video of how machines are used in the chocolate production process plays. Finn is standing extremely close, and our shoulders brush against each other. Well, my shoulder touches his upper arm since the man is so damn tall. I’m trying to pay attention to how beans are roasted for flavor, but Finn's musky cologne catches in my nose, and I start to remember the last time we were this close. The night we watched theHulkmovie at my place.
Neither of us had time to change at the end of the work day, but he’s put a dark flannel button down over the blue long sleeve he had on earlier and rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. A year ago, if asked, I would have said he looked like a lazy lumberjack minus the bushy beard, but now it’s hard to peel my eyes from him.
