Page 37 of Red Zone Realizations
I came prepared for a business meeting and I was instead surprised with a gorgeous man making me a hot meal. I peer at Noah over my spoon and watch as he blows lightly on the rice and meat mixture on his. Since I’ve got the green light for this being a “personal dinner,” I’m going to take advantage.
“Would you rather fight one T-Rex-size chicken or one-hundred chicken-size T-Rexes?” He chokes on the food he just put in his mouth.
“What?!”
“Answer the question, Fox,” I say, mock seriousness in my tone.
“One-hundred chicken-size T-Rexes, obviously. I could punt them.”
“That’s the correct answer.”
“Would you rather be able to see ten years into your ownfuture, or six months into the future of the world?” he asks. I pick up my glass of wine while I consider the question.
“See ten years into my own future. If the inevitable heat death of the universe comes between now and then, it would affect my future too. If my normal life in ten years involves carrying a backpack of fresh air because money-hungry politicians sat back and did nothing while corporations destroyed the environment, then I would know the fate of the world and myself.”
“Well thought out,” he chuffs. We refocus on our food again, hints of smiles on our faces.
After finishing salads and the main course, he pushes back from the table and heads back into the kitchen.
What else could there be?
My eyebrows raise when he walks back carrying two beautiful, golden crème brûlées. He winks as he sets mine in front of me.
“I thought we were just friends?” These delicious little pastries are a lot of work.
“We are.” He hands me a spoon. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have what you like.”
“You made these?”
“No, of course not. I ordered them from The Lush and picked them up earlier. I only toasted the sugar. Baking is a science, and that freaks me out.”
So he’s not a baker. Just thoughtful. Got it.
If his plan was to make me remember our first dinner together when I tasted the best crème brûlée I’d ever had… it’s working. The look on his face as he lifts the spoon to his mouth tells me this was in fact his plan, and that he isn’t immune either. In an effort to cut this off and rein in whatever is left of myprofessionalism, I scarf down the rest of my dessert in record time.
My chair makes an awkward scraping noise as I push back to stand. “I’ll get the slide deck set up and meet you in the living room.” I dart out of the dining room without waiting for his response. I’m literally trying to run away from my feelings. Yes, I realize how crazy that sounds and I don’t care.
I’m cramming myself between the back of the TV and the wall, trying to blindly shove the HDMI cord in the right spot when a warm hand takes the cord from me and effortlessly connects it. I duck back out and pull on my professional Audrey persona. “Please take a seat. We’ll get started.” I pause while he sits, grabs a throw pillow, and puts it in his lap to rest his elbows on. He’s the picture of comfortable except for his shit-eating grin. I’m swallowing too much in a poor attempt to keep my nerves under control. I’ve done the market research, I know the going rates, and I think I know Noah, too.
“Today, I’d like to talk about a few key brands I think would fit well with your image and your social media presence. If we agree on a couple, we can reach out.” I hit the clicker and the slide changes to reveal the kombucha brand.
I jump when Noah snorts. I press on, “You’re an athlete who enjoys yoga. You have the vibes of someone who takes care of themselves inside and out. The Bouch will be interested in working with you because right now it’s very much a niche product. When people see you drinking it, they will consider it as a drink alternative for athletes besides Gatorade or Muscle Milk.”
“No way.”
“Excuse me? What’s wrong?”
“This is not where I thought this would be going.”
Hands on my hips, I say, “Well, I have two more brands topitch if I may continue?” Noah slaps his hands on his thighs and rises.
“Actually, no. It’s my turn to talk. I’ve already been in touch with a brand, and they were extremely eager to work with me.”
“And what brand is that? Herbalife?” I laugh at my own joke. Noah is not nearly that desperate.
Noah looks at me seriously, honesty in his green eyes. “Why are you here, Audrey?” I look at him. We stand toe to toe, blinking at one another. I know it’s on me, so I break away first, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. “That’s what I thought.”
He turns and heads up the stairs. I stand there stunned. Am I just supposed to wait here? At his beck and call? He winds me up with that gentleman act over dinner and then just disappears on me right after calling me out? Rude.
