“Hey, Brandon.”
“Hey. Who’s in charge of running the company’s social media pages?”
Jerry swearing on the other end makes me chuckle. “You kids are gonna send me to an early grave. I have no clue. Maybe talk to HR? Why?”
“Angie sent me the graphics for our game and I wanna start getting these posted.”
“Really? Wait, back it up. Who’s Angie?”
Fuck. “A friend,” I lie, and it tastes bitter on my tongue.
“Mm hmm. I’ll let it slide. And I’ll come down to your office in a little to check out what she’s done. Maybe she’ll want a job here.”
“Yeah, maybe. Thanks, Jerry.”
After getting to know and talking with Angie, the last thing she would want is to chain herself to an office desk. My girl is a creative through and through, and even though a job like this would give that to her, it would mean stuntingthe other side of her creativity. So, no. I won’t recommend a job here.
For the rest of the day, I work. But I also think about James, my family, my Angie, and I think about how when they find out we’re dating, it will be the end of a family coming back together.
A few days later,I walk into Blue Pint Outpost. Angie and I haven’t seen or talked to each other in a few days because I was wrapping up the finishing touches on our video game and Angie picking up more shifts here, and I’ve missed her. Plus, after the way she left my condo the last time, I wanted to see where her head was at. Our conversation over texts alleviated a little bit of that worry, but it’s easier to judge someone’s stance when you’re right in front of them.
I find her shaking a cocktail shaker behind the bar, and when she sees me, the smile that takes over her face makes me want to run over to her and dip her into a kiss. But I don’t. Although I am itching to hold her. She angles her head and directs me to a spot in her section of the bar. In the past few months, I’ve come to pick up on the restaurant lingo that’s slung around. So when she slips up, I know what she means.
I fiddle with one of the coasters that’s in front of me as I wait for her.
“Hi,” she greets when she finally comes over to me.
“Hey, you,” I say and look up at her with a smile.
She places a ginger ale with some cherries on top in front of me. “You know, you’re really hurting my bartender street cred by not drinking.”
“You never had any street cred,” one of the bartenders says behind her and comes to stand next to her. “I’m Joe.”
I take his outstretched hand and shake it. “Brandon.”
Angie and I watch him head to the other end of the bar, and then it’s just the two of us.
“I haven’t seen you sit at my bar in way too long.”
“I know,” I heave out a sigh. “Work has been busy. On the plus side, the graphics you did for us are already reaching their targets.”
“That’s great,” she exclaims, “but…”
“Jerry offhandedly said something about you working for our marketing team.”
Her forehead scrunches. “What do you mean?”
“He likes what you did for teasing my game and joked about you taking up space in a cubicle.”
She leans forward against the bar and the movement has her shirt gaping open, and my eyes zone in. Angie taps my hand, and I meet her eyes. We say a lot with those looks and the smile that breaks free sends me soaring. “I like you. A lot. And I loved helping you and your game. But the idea of sitting at a desk would send me to more therapy.”
I snort. “That was my thought when he said it. But I thought I’d let you know. What’s your schedule for the rest of the week?”
“Opening on Friday and then I have Saturday and Sunday off. Why are you planning another date?” she asks excitedly.
Romance. That’s what Angie needs. Lots and lots of romance. But I have to romance her in soft ways that don’t overwhelm her. Plus, I get the notion that no one has ever gone above and beyond for her—that includes her parents.
“Yes.”
