Chapter 6

Chance

I HADN’T BEEN fully prepared for what I was going to see when I made my way to Melany’s desk the following day. She’d clearly taken our shopping excursion seriously and was wearing one of the new outfits Pepper had helped her pick out—a form-fitting navy blue dress with tiny sleeves and a neckline that hit just low enough to show the perfect fucking amount of cleavage.

The dress stopped just below her knees, but hugged her hips and ass all the way down, showing off those luscious curves no one had known existed. She wore a pair of tan pumps with a high heel that worked like a miracle to complete the “sexy assistant” look.

Even with her face free of makeup and her hair lying straight, she was a walking wet dream.

“You look nice,” I said, once I came to a stop at her desk.

She scrunched her face up in unhappiness as she stood from her chair, bending over to pull her purse from a bottom drawer, giving everyone in the vicinity a good look at her perfectly round ass. “I feel ridiculous,” she grumbled as she stood to her full height and made her way to me.

It wasn’t until she got closer that I noticed the faint purple smudges below her eyes, like she hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before. “Hey,” I said softly, grasping her chin gently and tilting her face to mine. “You okay?”

A tiny smile graced her lips. Even being so small, it was still beautiful. “I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well. But thanks for asking.”

The number of appreciative looks Melany got as we headed toward the elevators wasn’t lost on me, but she didn’t seem to have a clue she was attracting most of the male attention in the office. She was too busy watching the ground as she walked. “I’ve almost face-planted three times today because of these shoes.”

“You’ll get used to them,” I coaxed, placing my hand at the small of her back to lead her onto the elevator. “Ready to get your flirt on?”

She dropped her head and her shoulders slumped as she groaned. “I think I’m going to puke.”

“You’re not going to puke.”

“I totally am.”

“No, you’re not. Would you just relax?”

Her nose wrinkled adorably as we walked out of the building onto the busy sidewalk. “Don’t tell me I’m not going to puke. You’re not inside my head. You don’t know.”

Goddamn. Any other woman and I’d have probably bailed, annoyed as shit at her self-deprecation, but there was just something about Melany. She wasn’t the typical over-critical woman most men were used to.

You know the ones I’m talking about: “Does my butt look fat in these pants?” “Do you think I should lose weight?” “Do you think she’s prettier than me?”

No, Melany was different. Sure, she lacked self-confidence, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a backbone. She most certainly did. And she wasn’t afraid to let it show.

Case and point… standing on a crowded sidewalk as people rushed around us, glaring daggers at me for having the nerve to tell her she wasn’t going to throw up.

I lifted my hands in a placating gesture and slowly approached, like she was a skittish cat—with claws sharp enough to tear me to shreds. “Look. You’re right, I don’t know. You could very well vomit right here and now. What I meant is that you have nothing to worry about to warrant the need to vomit. I’ve got your back. I promise. Nothing bad is going to happen. It’s just a bit of flirting.”

Melany’s hands hit her hips indignantly. “Nothing bad? Dying of embarrassment is a real thing, you know.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. Jesus, she was cute. “I’m pretty sure it’s not.”

“Whatever,” she muttered under her breath and started moving. “At least I get a free meal out of this. I’m starving.”

I smiled widely and hurried to catch up, keeping my pace even with hers as she took careful steps not to fall in her heels. We walked in silence for a bit before I broached the subject I’d been curious about since we left her office. “Why didn’t you sleep well last night?”

She let out a heavy breath, like she was carrying a massive weight on her chest. “Just bad memories.”

“Memories?”

Realizing that wasn’t what she’d meant to say, her eyes got big and she blurted, “Dreams! I meant bad dreams.”

I gave her a look that said I wasn’t buying it. “You know, if we’re going to do this, it wouldn’t hurt for you to be honest with me.”

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes for a moment, as though she was gathering her strength. “I-it’s j-just…” She stopped and pulled in a few more deep breaths, and I realized then that she didn’t stutter unless she was anxious about something. And whatever she’d dreamed about had made her a bundle of nerves.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told her, suddenly feeling guilty that I’d made her uncomfortable.

“It’s not that. It’s just that this whole thing… with you helping me—it’s brought up some not so happy memories from my past. I know I’m weird, I know I tend to live in my head, but that’s because I haven’t had the best luck when it comes to men.” She let out a sardonic laugh that made my chest ache for her. “Living in my own world has been safer, but it’s lonely there. I want to do this. I want to step out of my comfort zone, but it’s hard.” She lowered her head and gave it a little shake. “Does that make any sense?”

“It makes perfect sense,” I answered. For the first time since I met her, I’d gotten a glance into what made Melany tick, and it only made me respect her more. She was so strong. Wanting to change the subject to something lighter, I asked, “So what are you in the mood for?” and watched from the corner of my eye as her lips puckered up in thought.

“Mahoney’s,” she answered with certainty. “They have the best burgers, and I haven’t been there in forever.”

My gaze shot to the side in bewilderment. “Really?”

“Yeah. Why?” Her bows furrowed slightly. “Do you not like them?”

I gave my head a shake. “No. Actually I love that place. I’m just surprised you suggested it is all.”

I could see her studying me from my peripheral vision as we continued to walk. “Why would that surprise you?”

With a shrug, I answered, “It’s just been my experience that most women are self-conscious about eating in front of a guy. They usually order a salad or something.”

“Oh.” She was quiet for several seconds before asking, “Is that… what I should have done?”

My top lip curled up as I answered vehemently, “Fuck no. For future reference, men hate that shit. Nothing kills the mood for a guy like taking a woman out to an expensive steakhouse and having her order a side salad.” I let my gaze travel down her petite frame and back up again. “You’ve got an amazing body and you prefer a burger… You’re already ahead in the ‘pros’ column, sweetheart.”

“Thank God,” she breathed out. “Because one thing you should probably know about me is you never come between me and my food.”

I chuckled as we rounded the corner a block down from Mahoney’s. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, if you’d suggested a salad, I probably would have stabbed you with my fork. Lettuce is rabbit food, not people food.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future. “Now…” I paused with my hand on the door handle to the restaurant. “You ready for this?”

She released a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Just get me my burger, Hoffman. If I’m going to humiliate myself, I might as well do it on a full stomach.”

“That’s the spirit!” I cheered, as I pushed the door open and stood to the side to let her in before me. She mumbled something about punching me before giving the hostess a polite smile.

As we were being led to our table, I noticed every male eye turn to watch Melany move through the restaurant, and an odd territorial feeling suddenly coursed through my bloodstream. My eyes narrowed into angry slits as I met one man’s particularly leery gaze. Yeah, asshole, look away. Nothing for you here, I thought with satisfaction as he quickly averted his eyes back to his lunch companion.

I took my seat and scanned the room as Melany picked up her menu and began perusing. Shit, maybe this place wasn’t the best choice. There wasn’t a single guy in the dining area that I felt was well-suited enough for Melany to practice flirting with. They all looked like a bunch of dickheads, none of them even worthy of breathing her air.

“So…” she drew out once we had our waters set down in front of us. “How are we going to do this? Are you just going to point a guy out and I’m supposed approach?”

I picked up my menu and scanned the burger options. “Someone will approach you.”

“What? How can you be so sure of that?”

I looked up from the menu and studied her perplexed expression. Jesus, she really had no clue. “Because every person in here with a dick watched your ass as you walked to the table.”

Her doe eyes got huge as she sputtered, “W-what? They did not! Wait… really? No! Of course they didn’t!”

I laughed at her utter cluelessness. It was refreshing. A lot of women pretended to be ignorant to the attention they received from the opposite sex, but it was all an act. Melany’s obliviousness was genuine. As far as I was concerned, that was another pro for her. It meant she was humble. Most men I knew who were looking to settle down would take that innocent naivety, that unassuming soft spot she had, and do everything in their power to protect it.

“Stop laughing at me,” Melany grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest in an obvious sign of discomfort. Fuck. I hadn’t meant to make her anxious, but it was clear that she was starting to withdraw into her own head.

Reaching across the table, I grabbed one of her arms and pulled it away from her body, wrapping my fingers around her palm and resting them both on the table. “Hey. Hey, I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you, I swear.” The look on her face said she didn’t believe me. “I swear,” I stressed, giving her tiny hand a squeeze. “I was laughing because I think it’s amazing how you have no idea that men find you attractive. It’s… well, honestly, it’s pretty damn enticing. No man wants a woman who’s full of herself.”

Melany’s expression remained skeptical for a few more seconds. “Really?”

“Definitely. I would never laugh at you. I promise.”

She took a deep breath and blew it out, sending her bangs flying in different directions. “Okay, well… thanks.” Slowly, her hand pulled from beneath mine and she reached up to fiddle with the straw in her water glass as our waiter approached.

“Good afternoon. Are you two ready to order?” he asked, his sole focus on Melany as he smiled. Christ, even our waiter wasn’t immune to her looks.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Melany picked up the menu once more and scanned until she landed on what she wanted. “Uh, I’ll have the cheeseburger. Medium well, with fries, please.”

“Good choice.” Oh, for fuck’s sake. Did he just wink at her? “The fries here are killer. It’s the special seasoning.” I could see a hint of red starting to creep up her neck as she fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat. It wasn’t that she didn’t like his attention. It was more that she had no clue what to do about it, hence the lessons in flirting.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

“And… for your date?” he hedged.

Melany’s head shot up from her inspection of the tablecloth. “Oh! He-he’s not my date. We’re… just friends.”

Two things ran through my mind at the exact same time. First, she really had no clue how to act in social settings. Second, her referring to me as her friend—with certainty, nonetheless—didn’t sit well with me for some strange reason.

“Oh. Great! Well, for your friend, then?” Was it just me, or did Waiter Boy sound too fucking happy while saying the word “friend”?

“I’ll have the same,” I answered flatly. “But onion rings instead of fries.”

Stuffing his little pad back into his apron, Waiter Boy gave Melany one last admiring glance before scurrying away.

“What about him?” Melany asked in a whisper, leaning across the table just far enough to give me a spectacular view of her tits.

“What about who?”

“The waiter,” she answered, jerking her head in the direction he just went. “Should I try and flirt with him?”

Was she fucking kidding? “Are you fucking kidding?” I sneered. “He can’t be older than twenty-four and has one of those stupid man-buns, for Christ’s sake.”

“So?” she asked with honest confusion.

“So? He’s a wannabe hipster.” From what I’d discovered about Melany so far, the man-child wasn’t her type at all. On second thought… “On second thought, I think he’d be perfect.” No chance she’d ever be interested. And where the hell did that thought come from?

She wrung her fingers together on the tabletop as her focus darted around the dining room. “You think?”

“Absolutely.”

When the waiter returned with our food a few minutes later, I gave her a knowing nod.

“Here you go,” he said with that same stupid smile on his same stupid hipster face. “I even had the kitchen give you extra French fries.”

Melany cleared her throat before turning her gaze to Waiter Boy. “Did you know that French fries don’t actually come from France?”

Oh damn.

“It’s actually a pretty funny story, really,” she started to ramble. “Some people say that fries actually originated in Belgium, but got the name French fries during World War I because they were introduced to the American soldiers by the Belgian Army, whose official language was French!”

It was like watching a train wreck. I couldn’t bring myself to look away as she spat out knowledge at a rapid-fire pace to our confused waiter.

“So, it’s said the American soldiers came back, calling them French fries because of the language the Belgians spoke, when really they should be called Belgian fries.” She stopped talking long enough to let out a loud, awkward laugh. “It’s really quite funny, if you think about it. A name created because of confusion. Or at least that’s the speculation. Honestly, France and Belgium still argue about who created the fries.” Another uncomfortable laugh. “So… thanks for the extra Belgian fries.”

Do not laugh. Do not laugh. Do not laugh.

“Uh…” The waiter was now staring at Melany like she was an escaped patient from the psych ward. “Sure. Well, you guys enjoy lunch. I have… other tables.” Then he was gone.

“Oh God,” she groaned, dropping her head into her hands once we were alone again. “That was terrible, wasn’t it?”

I squeezed a dollop of ketchup onto my plate, dipped an onion ring, and popped it into my mouth. “Well, it wasn’t good.”

She lifted her head, scrunched her face up, and tried to give me that cute glare. “This is all your fault,” she said, as she reached for the ketchup and squeezed out a river over her fries.

I picked up my burger and chuckled. “If it’s any consolation, I find your rants of useless knowledge fascinating.” And I really and truly did. Not only were they entertaining, but also informative.

Her scowl deepened as she lifted the top bun off her burger and began picking off the tomatoes and pickles. I watched in momentary silence. “Why didn’t you just order without?” I asked, reaching across the table to snatch up her discarded pickles and add them to my own.

Lifting the burger, she took a massive bite and spoke around the food in her mouth. “It’s less hassle to just pick the stuff off myself instead of making the order more complicated.”

Thoughtful.

She swallowed and pointed to my onion rings. “Are you going to eat all of those?”

I looked from my plate to hers, eyeing her fries. “Half for half?”

Melany nodded, and we each moved our plates closer to the center of the table so I could eat some of hers and she could eat some of mine.

We remained in companionable silence as we devoured our meals. Finally, I couldn’t hold my question in any longer.

“Hey, Melany?”

“Yeah?”

I grabbed one of the fried rings on my plate and held it up with a grin. “Where do onion rings come from?”

“I hate you,” she grumbled.

But the smile she failed to hide said differently.