“But for the fact the Mr. Bright is right behind you, and he’s sparkling like holiday lights,” Patty whispered.
Spinning around her bloodshot eyes stared at the large man with silver glitter in his hair, his eyebrows, and attached to the sexy stubble he’d taken to leaving on his face. His dark suit jacket was covered with crafter’s herpes, and his tight-lipped expression said it all. Instantly, she went on the defensive.
“Must you always hover around me?” she snapped angrily.
“Excuse me?”
“Well it’s true! You’re always sneaking about, spying on me,” she insisted. “I don’t like it. I didn’t add a little sparkle to you on purpose, but I must say it improves your typically scowling appearance. See you later, Patty,” she said as she walked away leaving them both staring after her.
It appeared as though this was going to be one of ‘those’ days, she acknowledged entering her office and hanging up her jacket, also shining with glitter. Well, there was nothing she could do about it. She would try her best to forget what she’d seen at Ginger’s station and paint some happy-faced dolls. Hopefully, that would be enough to appease him. Even her normal fantasies of getting a spanking from the man would not help today. She was definitely not in the mood for it, not with her pounding head and upset stomach. Damn, Bernard. Damn Ginger, and damn Bartlett Bright. They could all kiss her elfin ass!
The day draggedon so slowly it was pitiful. As far as her production, it sucked, to be honest. Not only did she not manage to paint happy faces, but she’d also screwed up on nearly every doll she touched. Her hands were shaky, she skipped lunch to try to catch up, and there was now an entire box of dolls that would have to go back and be reworked. It seemed every time she looked up from her work, Mr. Bright was somewhere in the area. If he wasn’t on the catwalk, he was walking around outside her door. Today, the man clearly was like having a toothache that would not stop. Merry could not wait to go home, take another couple of aspirin and crawl into bed. Tomorrow had to be better, it could hardly be worse.
As soon as the huge clock in the square of the workshop chimed five times she grabbed her jacket and made for the exit. Hallelujah, she thought with a sigh. Unfortunately, she never made it out the main door, for Bartlett appeared at her side and took her arm.
“What do you want?” she asked in defeat as they flowed with the crowd.
“I want to talk to you and thought we could grab a bite to eat,” he said, smoothly extricating them from the pack until they stood alone.
“I’m too tired, and not dressed to go out.”
“You look fine. We’ll go to The Sugar Shack and get a sandwich.”
“I’m not hungry,” she insisted.
“You didn’t eat lunch today, nor did I see you at the snack bar. What gives? Are you truly sick? Perhaps I should take you to the infirmary,” he suggested in concern as he put one of his big hands to her forehead.
Merry shook it off.
“I’m not ill. I simply partied a little too hard last night. I’ve had a hangover most of the day and I just want to go home,” she snapped weakly.
“No. We’ll get some food into you and see how you feel,” he stated firmly.
“I don’t want to,” she hissed rising to her tiptoes to scowl at him.
“I don’t care,” he replied, leaning down until they were nose to nose.
It was a stalemate. He was not going to back down. Angrily she turned and started stomping away.
“Get back here! Where are you going?” he demanded as his long strides overcame her.
“To The Sugar Shack,” she said coldly. “It appears you’re not going to let it go.”
Taking her arm once again he led her toward the center of town. Soon they were ensconced in a cozy, high-backed booth, out of sight from prying eyes.
“What can I get for you?” the pretty waitress on roller skates asked.
Bartlett looked her over and grinned, taking in her skating outfit.
“You’re adorable,” he said.
“Thanks, but this isn’t what I would choose to wear,” she replied, her shoulders drooping. “I’d be much more comfortable in jeans and a tee shirt, but Rufus insists.”
“Rufus?”
“Yes, Rufus Rottenhiemer,” she stated with a grin. “Some name huh?”
“I guess,” Bartlett said with a laugh.
