Page 8 of Enemy Crush
“Oh, hey. I’m glad you called. I was a little afraid you wouldn’t.” Goosebumps prickle my skin just from thinking about how he’s calling me…on my personal cell phone, not my work phone. That’s the number I gave him, so he didn’t have much of a choice, but still. I never thought I’d hear his voice on my phone.
“I did some thinking and I think you’re right. I have to be willing to try everything if I want to save the business and I do want to save it. Would you be free to meet me for lunch so we can talk and go over everything?”
There’s a note on my desk from my boss, asking me to meet him for lunch to talk over some work projects. “I can’t. I have a meeting today, but I’m free for dinner,” I offer.
“Oh, okay. That works too. Say six at Benny’s?”
“Perfect. I’ll come over right after work so I may be a few minutes late, but I’ll be there.”
“Okay, is there anything I need to bring?”
“I’d like to take a look at your books just to see exactly what we’re dealing with if that’s okay.”
“Sure, I’ll see ya then,” Pax says, hanging up.
I hang up the phone and get back to work. The morning passes quickly from going over so many emails and returning phone calls. Before I know it, it’s lunch time and time for my meeting with my boss. We go over numbers and talk of ways to bring in more clients, we discuss a few ongoing projects and call it a day. I head back to my office and do some follow up work on some of the clients we talked about over lunch.
Around three, I get up and go into the reception area for a cup of coffee, needing an afternoon jolt. I fill my cup with coffee and head back to my office that’s when it hits me. I’m having dinner with Paxton. Dinner. A real dinner. My nerves begin to bubble up and suddenly I’m filled with anxiousness. I never thought I’d be having dinner with Paxton. Sure, it’s a business dinner but a dinner none-the-less. I feel too amped up to go back to sitting at my desk and working. I can’t keep my mind on the task at hand, so I shut everything down and pour out the coffee, knowing the extra caffeine will only make me more anxious. I pack up my things and head out early.
If I’m having dinner with Paxton, I’m taking my time at getting ready. I want to look put together and better than ever. At home, I change over the laundry and pour a warm cup of tea. I take it to the bathroom where I soak in a hot bath full of bubbles and bath salts. I sip at my tea and work on calming myself. I tell myself that this isn’t a big deal. I’ve met with plenty of clients over dinner before and this is no different. He didn’t ask me out on a date. This is strictly business.
With that cleared up, I clean up and climb out. Looking over my clothes in my closet, I want to look good, but I don’t want to look over the top. Whatever I pick must be something I’d wear on a regular workday so he doesn’t think I dressed for him. I settle on a black skirt and a nice button up shirt. I wear my black pumps and leave my hair hanging down my back in soft waves. I add some makeup, but nothing out of the ordinary. When I finish, I step back and look myself over. I smile, happy with what I see. I look like I’m going to any normal day at work, but I look good and put together. I check the time and it’s still too early to go to the restaurant, so I pour another cup of tea and take it to the couch where I pick up my book. I start reading, but I feel anxious and can’t focus on what I’m reading. My eyes keep bouncing up to the clock to check the time and by five-thirty, I can no longer sit and read. I put the book down and take my cup to the kitchen.
I head back to the bathroom and check my appearance again and fix my lipstick since I lost some on my teacup. I run my fingers through my hair and pull my curls apart. I could be heading over to the restaurant right now, but I want to be a few minutes late. I don’t want him thinking that I came home and got ready like it was a date. I want him to think that I barely had the time to squeeze him in.
Once I approve of my appearance, I grab my things and head for the car. I drive around town and see his truck is already at the Italian restaurant that we’re set to meet at. I pull into a parking space and let out a long sigh.
“You can do this, Stella. Just go in there and be carefree, professional. Keep the jabs to a minimum. No bickering or fighting. You’re a professional and this is a potential client. We need more clients and this could be one. Forget that he’s Paxton, the guy you hate most in the whole world. From now on, he’s Mr. Reeves, a local business owner who’s in need of my help. I refuse to look at him and see the boy who would ride his bike back and forth in front of my house as a kid, or as the guy I could never have in high school who had a different girl on his arm every time I saw him. We’re grown up and things have changed. I need to get past this.
I open the door of my car and step out. I shut it behind me and then smooth out my skirt and shirt to waste a little time, but I want to look well put together. Slowly, I begin my walk toward the doors of the restaurant, my heels clicking off the concrete parking lot.
I stop at the hostess station and tell her that I’m meeting Mr. Reeves for dinner. She smiles and nods before saying, “Right this way.”
I follow her across the building and over to his table where he’s sitting alone.
He looks good in his black jacket, white dress shirt, and tie. His dark hair is combed back nicely and his green eyes are light up the moment they land on mine. He offers up a smile and stands as we approach the table.
“Nice to see you again,” he says, holding out his hand to shake. “You look lovely,” he tells me.
“Thank you. You too,” I reply, shaking his hand.
He motions toward the chair across from his. “Please, have a seat.”
I sit down and the waitress turns toward me. “Is there anything I can get you started with? Water, wine?”
“A glass of water will be fine, thank you,” I say as I scoot my chair up to the table.
Paxton takes his seat across from me and his back is straight while his jaw is cocked. He looks just as nervous as I feel. I want to tell him to just relax and that things would be fine, but I can’t seem to get the words out, not when I’m so nervous and anxious myself.
“Sorry I’m late. I rushed straight over from work,” I tell him.
He waves me off. “No problem. I wasn’t waiting long,” he tells me, picking up his glass and taking a sip of the amber liquid.
Chapter Six
Paxton
Iarrive at the restaurant and I’m feeling extra nervous about everything. I’m scared that I didn’t dress appropriately. I know this is technically a business meeting, but I’m just wearing slacks and a Polo shirt. Should I have dressed in a suit like I was going to the bank to ask for a loan? I guess Iamasking her to take on my business, but I thought that we’re close enough that jumping through all the hoops was out the window. I brought my books for the store, but even they are making me nervous. I feel like most businesses have spread sheets and charts. All I got is a basic book showing what’s coming in and going out. Maybe I need to update Mom’s system.
