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Grant plops the bags down, like they’re not carrying the best treats in the whole damn city.
“Careful with those! You don’t want the donuts shifting onto each other and mixing up the flavors.” Eying me with skepticism he takes a step away from the table, gesturing for me to continue with the placement.
I’ve never setup an order before so I’m not quite sure what I’m doing. In all honestly, it’s been almost a year since I’ve delivered anything for Bake, Rattle & Roll. With so many delivery food apps out there now having a specific delivery person wasn’t needed. Over the last seventeen months, I’d gone from leading the delivery charge to managing the front counter part-time.
The next logical thing to do would be to reveal and plate the goodies. That seems smart. Though the only thing I see ready on the table are paper plates. Maybe they’ll be so hypnotized by the shiny glaze on the donuts that they won’t notice none of it is on fancy plates. Becauseyou knowthis office only has fancy plates. It’s too chic not to.
Grant seems to know this office though. Everyone is bending over backward to please him so he must be a big-wig up here. The head of some department or whatever. If I ask, he will probably know where the plates are or get Bitchy Barbie to grab them.
Using my nail, I rip the sticker of Bake, Rattle & Roll that’s keeping the box closed and reveal the contents with a ‘ta da’ at Grant. His head inclines a little to take a look at the donuts but there’s no outward sign of wonder or delight. The man is a pillar of marble, unmoved by the glory before him.What the hell was wrong with him?
You know what, scratch that. Mr. No-Cheese, health nut was making an appearance again. If I knew anything about body fat, and I didn’t, I would say he was probably at 12% – or whatever a crazy good percentage was – and probably hadn’t eaten straight sugar since he was sixteen. Even the thought of going a day without dessert had me shivering in unease. I knew he had a day left to eat junk food so I had no idea why he wasn’t stuffing his face.
At the moment of unveiling, I should have been slapping Grant’s hand away, laughing with him about how these weren’t just for him and he had to wait for his fancy meeting to begin. But I didn’t do any of that. Instead, I stared at him and he stared right back at me. While I didn’t mind his emerald green eyes on me, this was one time in my life where I knew a man’s attention was on the wrong thing.
“You’re looking at the wrong thing,” I tell him with confusion lacing my voice. “Look down.” His eyes slowly dragged down to my chest. “No! Not my boobs, you boob. The treats. Look at the treats.”
“I thought I was looking at a treat.” The way his lips tilt up in glee at his own comment has a thousand butterflies exploding in my belly.
Then I snort with laughter. “Wow. That was good. I have to hand it to you.”
He gives a little shrug, the smile still lingering on his full lips. Grant’s eyes are back on mine, locked and waiting to see what I’ll do or say next. God, he’s so gorgeous. No one should be this attractive. As my good friend Maui would say, “I know it’s a lot, the hair, the bod. When you’re staring at a Demi-God.” Note to self, watch Moana again.
Shaking off my trance, I begin collapsing all the boxes so that they lay flat over the table. I then push them close to one another, so all the donuts are in one area but evenly spread out for everyone to easily grab. The layout looks right. I’ve left enough room for coffee or whatever other beverage corporate tycoons drink during big fancy meetings. Fingers crossed Bitchy Barbie will be somewhat pleased. She may even risk her botox and crack a smile at how beautiful everything looks.
I laugh to myself. Yeah right.
The entire time I’m agonizing over the arrangement of the donuts, Grant continues to watch me. I don’t hate it, but it feels like he’s trying to get a read on me. Like I’m a puzzle he’s getting very close to figuring out.
“You should give me your number.”
A laugh bubbles up in my throat. Turning my head so I’m looking at him partially over my shoulder, I smile. “I should, should I?”
“Yeah. You know, in case you ever need to sneak by security again or need some muscle to help you with big deliveries.”
I have to press my lips together to hold back the huge smile his words evoke. I want to play a little hard to get.
“I didn’t try to sneak past security thank you very much. Ithoughtabout it but didn’t act on it.”
“Sure. Makes sense.”
Ignoring his sarcasm, I continued. “And I have a trolley to help me with big deliveries. When I make them. It’s just that today we had a donut emergency and I was in a hurry.”
“A donut emergency?”
“Yes, a donut emergency,” I said with a snap to my voice. Why did no one think donut emergencies were real?
“I still think you should give me your number. In exactly thirty-seven days I will be able to eat a cheat meal and I may need a donut hook-up.”
The way he says hook-up has my stomach clenching. The words should have me thinking of a torrid affair, leaving me feeling gross and used. But the way Grant says it, his full lips forming the words with a soft grin, leaves me feeling warm and flattered. Which is so screwed up. What is it about this guy that has my body all the sudden tuned-in and turned-on, ready to rumble at a moment’s notice?
This is not the time for me to get involved. With anyone. My life is so complicated right now and until I figure all of that out….
You know what? Screw it. I was going to do it. I wanted to give him my number and see where this went. What’s the harm in that? I could keep it casual. Cool.
My mouth opens, poised to tell him to take out his phone so I can give him my number, when a deep, booming voice interrupts me.
“Grant! You son of a bitch! Why didn’t anyone tell me you were here? Welcome man.” Holy moly, was this a modeling agency or something? Why was every person in this building jaw droopingly gorgeous? A tall man with dark good looks, an olive complexion, and a wide smile, steps passed me and grabs Grant in a hug.
