Page 9 of Be My Reason

One such guy I see over by the hallway to the restrooms.I can only see the back of him, and what a nice back side he has. He is leaning in and kissing a beautiful redheaded woman, who herself is impeccably dressed. I look around to see if anyone else notices this inappropriate behavior but apparently I am the only people-watcher at the moment.

I move across the massive hall, far away from Mr. Inappropriate-nice-ass and spot a table of baked goods.Oh, this I can handle. It is a small but tastefully done banquet table with displays of hundreds of bite-sized goodies such as cupcakes, petit fours and miniature cookies. I reach for a red velvet cupcake and roll my eyes at the fleeting memory of the night it became my favorite confection. I brace myself for the sweet vanilla taste with that hint of chocolate and gooey cream cheese frosting, then I silently curse when I pop a piece in my mouth and it doesn’t fulfill my expectations. Ick, this is bad. I should know. It took years for me to perfect my own recipe so I know a good red velvet cake when I taste one. And this is not it.

Inspiration strikes me asI look at the sumptuous display. I should start catering. There are plenty of places like this in Savannah. Well, maybe not this big, but on a smaller scale. I have already planned on trying to find investors to help me expand my business as soon as I graduate. I would love to hire another person and perhaps get another location. Maybe catering could fit into this plan as well.

I pitch the rest of the unfinished cupcake into the nearest bin and go in search of a bottle of water to wash the taste from my mouth.I see a drink station across the main hall and make my way over there, taking time to peruse some of the design displays set up in booths. Along the way, I once again see the back of Mr. Nice-ass as he is rubbing his hands up and down the arms of that bimbo. Uh, wait, no . . . new bimbo. This one is blonde. Damn, he is really working this place. I must get a look at his face and maybe introduce him to Emma. He is definitely her type.

Mr. Playboy and Blondie disappear to God knows where, I really don’t want to know, and I decide to kill some time listening to my iPod and reading one of my textbooks. I get lost in the music and my studies for a while and am startled when Emma kicks at my toe, pulling me from my academic trance. I look up at her and she is all giddy.Emma, giddy? And she is standing next to a really cute guy.

“Lyn,” she says, as I pull the buds from my ears, “meet Graham. He is a junior partner at an architectural firm here in Raleigh and he has agreed to show us around while we are in town.” Her eyes widen as she stares me down and I know she is silently willing me to go along with this. “He said there is this great place to eat called the Angus Barn.”

“Nice to meet you, Lyn,” he says.“Emma tells me you aren’t in the business but that you own a bakery. That’s cool. And she said you are engaged. Congratulations.”

He shakes my hand with a firm but gentle shake that doesn’t linger too long.Okay, points for that. He is cute, but not one of those gorgeous, model-types Emma usually goes for. He is tall, of course, since she prefers guys much taller than her five-eight frame, but still I would be surprised if he were over six feet tall. He’s fit looking but not too buff, has dark hair and a nice, round face with a good amount of stubble. Kind of looks like a big teddy bear to me, like someone you can cuddle up with and tell all your secrets to.

“Um. . . thanks. Nice to meet you, too. So you two got a lot out of that keynote speech I see,” I say, smiling and shaking my head at my friend and her new boy toy.

Graham laughs and says, “People mainly come to these things to make business connections. We could care less about the speakers and workshops, but we go because our employers expect us to.”

“Graham and his partner have a lot of connections on the East Coast so I think it would be great for me to hang out with them some while we are here,” she says, looking down at me with puppy-dog eyes.Who is this creature and what has she done with my best friend?

“Them?” I raise my eyebrows.

“Yeah. Graham is going to bring his partner to dinner.” She holds her hand up to stop my next words. “Don’t worry, it’s not a date or anything, it’s just work stuff.”

“Lyn,” Graham adds, “it’s nothing to worry about.This is purely platonic.”

I’m not worried.First, I’m engaged. Second, I know Emma would never try to hook me up simply soshecould. It’s just that I’m not exactly comfortable with strangers and what could I possibly have in common with a junior partner in architecture?

“Anyway, he doesn’t, um . . . date.” He blushes slightly.

“Oh, he’s married?” I question.I guess we could talk about our significant others.

He shakes his head.

“Gay?” I ask, my eyes widening. Maybe we could talk clothes and shoes and who won best dressed at the Oscars?

He shakes his head again.“Uh . . . he’s kind of a player. But you have nothing to worry about being that you’re engaged and unavailable. He will probably grab a quick bite with us and then head out to see whoever he picked up today.” He says looking embarrassed for his friend.

“Sounds like a winner.”And a perfect guy for Emma. Maybe she should dump Mr. Polite-teddy-bear and go after his friend.

“He really is great.Just misguided I’d say.” He shrugs. “Well, I have to get on to my next workshop. It was nice meeting you, Lyn and I’ll see you two later tonight.” He walks away and winks at Emma as she shamelessly watches every step he takes across the expansive room.

I wave my hand in front of her face to get her attention. “What has gotten into you, Emma? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you drool over a man before. I may have to get a mop over here to clean up this puddle you’ve made.”

She swats my arm and says, “He is seriously hot. And smart . . . really smart. He has great ideas about how design and architecture work together. He’s running a class on it later this week. That reminds me, I have to go change my schedule.” She sighs. “Shit, Lyn, I may be in love,” she teases.

“Yeah, that’ll be the day.You’ve never even given a guy your phone number, let alone a second date.” I shake my head at the thought. I love Emma to death and she is seriously smart—as in she tested at the genius level in tenth grade—but she is the queen of love ‘em and leave ‘em.

She looks at me like the cat that ate the canary.

“What?” I ask her.

“I may have already given him my number,” she says. Then she tucks her lips into her mouth and scrunches her eyebrows.

She did not. “You did not!”

“Yup,” she says.

---