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Before the screen can make it back to the home page, I’m already opening the CHC text thread.
ALANA MEYER:
…
ASHLEY MILLER:
What did you do?
ALANA MEYER:
Is Ricole here? She’s not gonna wanna miss this.
RICOLE ANDERSON:
I’m here. What is it?
ALANA MEYER:
I have a date…
RICOLE ANDERSON:
Please say it’s with your boss
ALANA MEYER:
…
I haven’t filled Ashley in on the office shenanigans, and I already know she’s gonna kill me for holding back details. Before I can respond, my phone screen lights up with a three-way video call. Ashley threatens me within an inch of my life for not mentioning any of this sooner, and Ricole goes on and on about how hot Andreas is. The call ends much the same as our video chats usually do: with us laughing like a bunch of hyenas.
I finish cleaning my apartment and order takeout from a local Chinese place, broccoli and rice with a side of plain lo mein. To avoid the outrageous delivery fees, I grab my keys and head out the door to pick it up.
What a fucking day this turned out to be.
19
Chapter Nineteen
Andreas
Mixed emotions swirl through me while I sit at my desk and think about the phone call I had with Alana. On the one hand, I’m concerned about the weird messages she’s been getting. On the other, my blood runs hot thinking about taking her out for dinner and having her all to myself. Sure, I resolved myself to stay professional and end this tete-a-tete. As soon as she admitted she enjoyed our exchange in the office, my resolve came crumbling down.
For my sanity and hers, a public meeting would probably be safest. If I invite her to my house to cook for her, we’ll never make it out of the living room. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of her. While I mull over the details of where I’ll take her and where things will go, I finish up a few emails and leave the office of the Kokomo store. My stomach growls, and I know I won’t be able to hold off on dinner until I make it back to Carmel.
Fortunately, there’s an amazing Italian restaurant around the corner, so I head there to eat. The savory scent of an array of herbs and spices smacks me in the face when I walk through the door, and I can already taste the chicken parmesan I’m going to order.
“Table for one?” the host asks me.
My head bobs in agreement, and I follow him to a table toward the back of the restaurant.
“Your server will be with you in just a moment.”
The menu sits in front of me untouched, and I look around the small dining room while I wait. The decor is simple and warm, and I love how friendly the staff is.
“Good evening, sir. Would you like me to get you started with a drink or an appetizer?” a server approaches and asks me.
“I’ll have a water, and I actually already know what I’m having. Chicken parmesan with a side of meatballs.”
