“Would you please put that potato salad back? You don’t know how long it’s been sitting out in this sun unrefrigerated.” Becky slaps at the serving spoon, trying to wheedle it unsuccessfully out of my hands so I’ll put back the yummy, delicious potato salad.
We’re standing in the buffet line at my company summer picnic, which she agreed to attend with me only when I displayed proof GreatDane51 couldn’t be my plus one. Paper plates balanced on our hands, a long, tempting smorgasbord of catered food is spread out before us, chafing dish after chafing dish of culinary delights awakening all my senses. This buffet is almost better than the one in Vegas, I’m sure of it.
Except freaking Becky won’t let me eat any of it.
“Why can’t I have it? I want it,” I complain, turning to glare at her.
“Because it’s made with mayonnaise, and it’s been in the heat for who knows how long.”
My glossy lips curl up into a pout. “Is there anything here I can eat?”
“Yes. The meat, buns, and fruit. Or the vegetables.”
“You’re such a mom.” I tap the plastic fork in my hands against my mouth. “Fine. I’m only complying because you agreed to be my date.”
“This is your date?” A deep, masculine voice booms from behind me, and the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end. “Janine, please introduce me to your partner.”
Slowly, I turn and face my boss, T Roger Morgenson—yes, T Roger, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean—his wrinkled gray eyes hooded by the bushiest black eyebrows I’ve ever seen on a man. The hair he still has left is greying, and his short, pudgy stature makes him feel more like a roly-poly uncle than an influential businessman.
Not to mention, he just implied that he thinks Becky and I are a couple.
Which wouldn’t be the first time.
I stick my free hand out for a handshake. “Good afternoon, Mr. Morgenson. What a surprise to see you. This is my best friend, Becky. She’s my plus one since my actual date fell through.”
“Gee, thanks,” Becky grumbles beside me and nudges me with her elbow.
I want to elbow her back but resist the urge.
“Are you enjoying yourselves on this gorgeous day? Couldn’t have planned it any better. No indeed, no indeed.” My boss’s robust stature has his plaid shirt buttons straining, and he rocks back on his heels as he rubs his belly with a low titter.
Add a few more inches, slap a beard on him, and he’d be the perfect Santa Claus. Mr. Morgenson reaches around me and palms an ear of corn on the cob, lifting it to his mouth and gnawing at it—no plate, no utensils, no napkin.
Then again, he’s the owner of the damn company and can do whatever the hell he wants, good hygiene or not.
Beside me, I hear Becky mentally tick corn on the cob off her list of things we can eat from the buffet. And now she’s going to force her hand sanitizer on me. Dammit!
As if on cue, she clears a spot on the buffet table so she can set down her plate to free up her hands, and begins rooting through her cross-body bag. Sure enough, she whips out a travel-size bottle of hand sanitizer and holds it in front of her, which is my cue to hold out my palm.
Knowing the drill, having done this a hundred times, I comply with a sigh as my best friend squirts the clear gel into my hand.
“Rub it around,” she instructs. “Mr. Morgenson, would you like some?” Politely, she holds the minuscule bottle out to my boss.
Dear Lord, Becky. Is no one safe?
My pudgy little boss laughs. “Rub some dirt on it, that’s what I always say,” he chortles and takes another bite of corn. “I see some people over there I need to go talk to. And Janine, I want to make sure you introduce yourself to Dan Engel. He’s sitting at a picnic table under that big oak tree, chatting with a few foremen. Please see that you make your way over.”
I give an enthusiastic nod. “Yes sir. Absolutely!”
He reaches over and plucks another cob of corn from the chafing dish. “One for the road!” He laughs before ambling away. Once he does, Becky pounces.
“Okay, first of all, ew. You are not eating corn.” She eyes the buffet skeptically. “Who knows what else that man has touched with his bare hands? Probably everything here.”
“Um, that man is my boss…”
“Your germy boss, who rubs dirt on stuff.”
“Yeah, but your baby drinks wine, so…”
“Oh no you did not.”
I laugh and hand her plate back. “Just take this and let’s eat. I’m starving and I can’t go introduce myself to Dan Engel on an empty stomach. I’ll end up picking a fight with him.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah—I thought I was coming for a free meal and possibly a little romance, but it turns out I’m just a pity date. A pity date. How rude.” Becky moves down the line, allowing us both to take a heaping spoonful of fresh fruit and another of mashed potatoes with gravy.
What an odd combination. She is such a buzz kill. “How come I can have mashed potatoes but not potato salad?”
“Are you going to let that one go?”
“No. I’m hungry. Besides, I don’t know if you remember this, but one time in college we had to swallow a live goldfish to get a shot of tequila at a frat party. Remember? And now I can’t even eat corn.”
“How about I stop on the way home and buy you a dozen at one of those little roadside vegetable stands.”
Hmm, that does sound kind of delicious. “Fine. We have a deal.”
“Good. Because we have to get you fed. Why don’t we meander over to the table where Dan, Dan your Foreplay Man, is eating. Let’s get this party started.”
“That is a horrible idea.” I groan, wishing I had an escape. Or that I’d stayed home.
“How so? It’ll be like ripping off the Band-Aid. One and done.”
“I refuse to allow you to use the same logic with me that you use on your six-year-old twins.”
Becky rolls her eyes. “Just get it over with. You’re driving me insane.” She bumps me with a hip towards a giant oak tree on the corner of the picnic grounds, steering me by the elbow.
“You know, you and those pointy little elbows are going to get you into big trouble someday.”
If this goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming her for this.
I was not prepared for Dan Engel.
Not at all.
First off all, he’s not old. Not even close. Secondly, he’s really good-looking, like, rugged, manly, and rough around the edges in a good way. He has stubble, dark hair, and even darker eyes with laugh lines that appear well earned. He’s grinning ear to ear, and then tips his head back to let loose a peel of laughter.
Apparently I’m not the only one he never stops trying to make laugh.
My first instinct when he stood, introduced himself, and offered me his hand to shake, was to turn tail like a coward—after all, he hasn’t heard my name yet. For all I know, when he hears it, he might want me to walk away. Admittedly, I’ve been nothing but a bitch to him. He basically told me that over the phone during our last conversation.
But that was before I knew how damn hot he is.
Beside me, Becky elbows me in the ribs, but for once I hardly notice.
My free hand slides into Dan’s, whose chocolate-brown eyes have softened at the corners, and his mouth has set into a crooked grin. We’re nodding and pumping our hands up and down over the wooden picnic table, grinning at each other stupidly. Our foremen, Travis Mason and Margot Grinwold, and Becky are staring at us with amused chagrin.
“I’m…” What’s my name? Becky, help me out. “I’m Becky.”
My best friend laughs and steps in. “She’s Janine. I’m Becky.”
I feel my face get flaming hot, the plate in my hand, laden with ten pounds of fruit, cold chicken, veggies, and who know what else, weighing my arm down. I think I might drop it.
“Janine.” Dan drops my hand, and whatever initial attraction he had dissipates quicker than I lost my virginity as soon as he reconciles my name with my position at the company. And our tumultuous business relationship. Our last phone conversation.
A polite, resigned expression replaces his earlier interested perusal and friendly smile. My heart beats wildly in my chest.
I’m determined to keep things light and professional; I will not lust after him. My boss is counting on me.
Nervously, I tuck a lose strand of hair behind my ear. “Hi. I thought I’d introduce myself since we’ve only ever spoken on the phone.”
“Right.” Dan sits back down, digging into the heaping pile of potato salad on his plate. Potato salad! That lucky bastard. I want to jab Becky in the arm with my fork but manage to fight the power.
Sensing the tension, my trusty sidekick clears her throat. “Do you mind if we join you?”
Dan looks across the table at the empty bench. “Go ahead.” Shit, I just know he’s recalling our last phone conversation; I can see it all over his face. Let’s see, what was the last thing he said to me because I pissed him off so bad, he finally exploded? Oh yeah, he told me I had a giant stick up my ass, and I almost called him an asshole.
Ouch.
I cringe inwardly but achieve a fake smile. “Thanks. There really aren’t any other places to sit.”
Dan’s fork pauses above his place and he arches a dark brown eyebrow as he scans the picnic yard.
I glance over my shoulder.
At the dozens of empty picnic tables.
“What she means is, there weren’t any other places to sit where we could get to know people. She can’t just sit and talk to me.” Becky forces a laugh and sets down her plate. We both sit. “As much as I could sit and listen to her all day—because she’s so, so clever and funny—she wanted to mingle.”
“Right,” Dan repeats, stuffing a forkful of mayo-y potatoes in his mouth. “I’m sure she did.”
Okay. Now his attitude is kind of starting to piss me off. I mean, we had one shitty phone conversation. Does he have to be such a dick? This. This is the reason I can’t stand the guy in the first place—good looks notwithstanding—and all the negative impressions that I have come surging back full force.
Good looks notwithstanding.
Shit. Did I already say that? Well, sorry, he’s really… really…
Ugh! Panty-dropper.
I ignore his snark and shake the feathers out of my brain. “How is the potato salad?” I ask. “I bet it’s good.”
Becky kicks me under the table, glaring at me.
Margot and Travis, who have both been silent up until now, glance at each other. “If you think it looks so good, why didn’t you take any?”
“She wouldn’t let me.” I laugh, nodding towards my friend.
Becky has the decency to blush. “It um, has mayo in it. I didn’t want her to get food poisoning because it’s been left out in the sun.”
“That’s how people die.” I emphasize the word ‘die’ with a vindictive smirk on my lips, and am rewarded when Dan drops his fork into his pile of potato salad. It lands on the top and rolls off his plate.
A blob of the mayonnaise base lingers at the corner of his mouth.
Travis snags a napkin from the table, dips it in water, and goes to dab at Dan’s face. “Here, you have a little in the corner of your mouth.”
Dan swats his hand away. “Thanks, I’ve got it.” If I was blushing before, Dan’s face is on fire. Scalding. A blazing inferno of semi-amused irritation.
“I’m not saying you’re going to get food poisoning, so by all means, enjoy your salad.” Oblivious to the tension she caused, Becky pops a piece of pineapple in her mouth and chews. “Mmm, this is good. So fresh. I never have time to cut up fresh fruit with all the kids underfoot. The little scamps.”
“If you want, we can Google it to see if anyone has actually died from it,” Margot puts in helpfully. “I myself didn’t take any of it either. My grandma once told me the same thing about things being left out in the sun.” She pulls out her large white smartphone and starts poking away at buttons. “Well, no one has died, but there were twelve hospitalizations last year.”
“What!” Becky and I shout this at the same time.
She turns to me and lays her hand on my wrist. “For the record, I didn’t actually believe you were going to get food poisoning. I was just trying to be bossy.”
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.” I laugh then cover my mouth once the curse slips past my lips.
Margot, Travis, Becky, and I all laugh. Everyone is laughing, finally having a good time.
Everyone except Dan.
Me: Well, all things considered, I think that went pretty well, don’t you?
Becky: Yeah. If you don’t include the part where Dan looked ill, dumped his plate in the trash, and stumbled off.
Me: That image will be burned in my brain forever. I feel so bad. You ruined his entire meal. Possibly his ability to ever enjoy potato salad again.
Becky: Uh, yeah, sorry about that. Sometimes when I get let out of the house, I don’t know what comes over me. You’re going to have to kiss his ass now, you know, for the sake of your job.
Me: Unfortunately, yes, I’m aware.
Becky: Do you know what would be hilarious? Since he likes jokes?
Me: What?
Becky: Send him one of those giant tubs of potato salad from Costco. That would be hysterical. And attach an apology, and maybe a YOU’RE SO BLEEPING SEXY message. Cause holy shit was he hot.
Me: I know, right? That beard? Those eyes. OMG I almost died when he introduced himself… I almost wet myself. And now he loathes me even more.
Becky: So send the “gift.” It’s genius. It will completely change his opinion of you for the better. Trust me.
Me: You have a sick mind, do you know that? And everyone says I’M the one with issues… little do they know.
Becky: Just do it.
Me: Aye, aye, Captain. Hey, speaking of sexy… Is tonight “the night”? Sex tape night? Please say it is…
Becky: I haven’t decided yet.
Me: What are you waiting for?
Becky: The waves of nausea that come over me when I think about it to subside.
Me: Wimp.
Becky: Whatever. Hey—wanna go shopping with me this week? Get you ready for your date on Friday?
Me: Sure. I could use some primping supplies. Just in case this one is actually hot and I decide to give cheap, meaningless sex a shot again.
Becky: You are such a… whore.
Me: Excuse me?! Who are YOU calling a whore? Do you WANT to see your cheap rendition of Tommy Lee and Pamela Anderson’s sex tape go viral?
Becky: First of all, thanks for the visual. Secondly, how dare you threaten me! Ugh. Gross. On that note… tell GreatDane I said hi when you email him.
Becky: Sober this time.
Me: I’m going to ignore that snarky comment.
Me: And remember what Ana Roldan said: put your hands on your hips and cock your knee out. It makes you look skinnier on camera.
Me: I said cock. LOL
Becky: O…. m… g….