Page 48 of Country Charm

Rolling my eyes, I pull out my phone.

Me: A bit dramatic?

Georgie: If it’s the only way to get you to respond, then yes.

Me: What time and where?

Georgie: 6:15 at Little Sicily.

Me: Mmmm yes please.

Georgie: You are allowed a salad, your lunch has enough calories.

I pout and look down at my two thick enchiladas. So cheesy. So good.

Me: Sounds like dinner AND a death sentence.

Georgie: Now who’s the dramatic one?

While my food is warming, I kill time by scrolling through social media. I try to train my brain to avoid ordering pasta later by looking at European fitness models. They may be in incredible shape, but these are all professional pictures. With professional makeup and touch-ups. I scrunch my nose and curl my lip. Along with the plethora of female models comes a hefty number of male models. They are all ripped, with beautiful faces, and uninterested looks across their faces.

Shania Twain’s “That Don’t Impress Me Much” starts playing in my head.

My mind goes into the replay reel, and I’m reminded of Caribbean-blue eyes that show plenty of interest. A gentle smile touches my lips when I hear someone clear their throat.

Pulling my eyes off my phone, I look up.

“You done with the microwave?” asks an unknown, yet very handsome man.

He’s tall, a few inches taller than me, with dark chocolatey-brown hair and matching eyes. His hair is styled artfully, and I wonder to myself how men can so easily achieve volume when they do their hair. That’s not aproblem I have since my hair is so thick, but the girls who have thinner hair and dream of volume like Dolly.

Mystery Man has dark brows that lead to his straight nose with a triangle tip. His top lip is thinner than his bottom, but they both have enough tissue to avoid the thin lip category. He has broad, thick shoulders and a wider back coming down to a slim waist. It’s apparent he works out; his shirt might even be custom.

“Yeah, sorry. Got sucked into a web wormhole.” I stand and cross the breakroom to grab my food.

“No worries.” We trade places in a matter of seconds, and he smiles. I sit back down and let my food cool, all while jumping back into the World Wide Web.

“I’m Dom,” he states out of the blue and matter-of-factly.

“What?” I ask, raising a brow.

“Dom, short for Dominic.”

“Oh, Hey. Cassidy.” I offer him a kind smile, but also hope he can read the I’m-not-in-the-mood-to-chat-right-now look I’m shooting him.

“How long have you worked here?” Nope, he definitely missed the signal.

“Ummm, seven years?” I try to think back to when I started, and I feel my age creep up on me.

“Wow, you must be a team lead? Director? VP?” I shake my head at each one.

“Data Analyst.”

“No shit, I’m a new hire. Accounting.” He looks older than the typical new hire. He looks every bit in his late twenties or early thirties. Then again, people switch jobs all the time.

“Well, welcome aboard. It’s a great place to work.” I givehim another tight, but sweet smile.You catching my drift bro? I don’t want to talk.

“Yeah, it really seems like it. The people are all really intelligent and driven, I’m hoping to climb the ladder myself.” He pulls his food out of the microwave and sits down.

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