by Megan Bryce
“No, really. The glare is giving me a headache. Everything is so very white, even your barstools.”
He shook his head at her because this he understood.
“Black barstools would have looked out of place.”
“Sure, those are the only two colors barstools come in. Have we died? Was that door really a portal to limbo?”
“Yes,” he said, nodding at the bag still in her hand. “They usually allow one personal item through the portal with you. Aren’t you glad it’s french fries?”
She chuckled, watching him head into the kitchen.
“Yes, I am. Can’t think of anything I’d rather take with me.”
She hopped onto a barstool, pulling out her fries and hamburger, and Mac grabbed a plate from the cupboard.
She sighed, taking it with a sad shake of her head. “Even your knickknacks are white.”
“I do not have knickknacks. A plate has a purpose.”
“So this is your shortcut, huh? Always black at work, always white at home?”
He looked around the room. “I guess it is. The walls were white when I moved in so I went with that.”
“I’m glad I met your car, Mac. I’d be worried about you otherwise.”
She slid her hamburger on to the plate, dumping some fries next to it.
“You can have the rest of these. Do you have any ketchup? I don’t know why they don’t give out packets anymore and I never remember to ask for one.”
“No,” he said, but she slid off her stool to go check herself.
She opened the fridge door and screamed, making Mac jump.
“Oh, my god! You have nothing in here. Nothing! Not even an old soy sauce packet.”
Mac thumped his heart back into action and came to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder at his empty fridge.
“Sometimes I have leftovers but everything else just goes bad.”
He closed the door around her, his arm brushing hers and her hair tickling his chin. She smelled like glue guns and cotton candy.
Like sparkles and bubble gum.
He was surprised how good that smelled and he shook his head to clear it.
“I might have an old soy sauce packet in the fridge at the office.”
“Oh, good. For a minute there I was afraid you were a vampire.” She turned her head to look at him and he tried to remember if he’d ever had a woman in his kitchen before. Had ever stood staring into an empty fridge with a woman before.
She said, “But what are you going to eat?”
He reached for the freezer door and she stepped back, away from him.
He was sure that was better. Better to think of her as Gia and not a woman accidentally standing too close to him in his kitchen.
“I usually grab something for lunch near the office,” he said, pulling out a frozen broccoli and cheese dish.
He thought the look she gave his broccoli was probably the same look he’d given her about ramen poutine.
“Why didn’t you get something at McDonald’s,” she asked and Mac turned away before she could see the embarrassment coloring his face.
He hadn’t gotten anything because she’d smiled at him. And he’d stopped thinking.
Perhaps it had been just a little too long since his last date if a smile was all it took.
Perhaps he should think about meeting some other women.
“Um,” he said and opened the microwave.
“I know, you didn’t want it until you smelled it,” Gia said and patted his arm. “You can have half my Big Mac.”
“Thank you,” he said, because Mac eating a Big Mac wasn’t weird.
He punched start and found her a knife.
“You can share my broccoli.”
“You keep your broccoli away. My mother’s not here for me to impress and I don’t want the healthy to rub off on my fries.”
“It’s coated in cheese. I’m not sure it’s even healthy anymore.”
Gia nodded. “It is.”
She slid his half of the hamburger onto a new plate and dumped the remaining fries out for him.
Mac sat on the barstool next to her and took a big bite of two all-beef patties, special sauce, something, something, pickles…onion?
She nodded at his plate. “Tell me you love it.”
“It’s not bad,” he said grudgingly and she grinned.
“I knew you’d like it. Now tell me more about buying me a car.”
He grabbed two napkins out of the bag and handed her one.
“Well, I was thinking that if you found a car you liked, I could check it out for you. That’s as far as I’d got with the idea.”
“I’m not even sure what kind of car I’m looking for. Besides small. With four wheels.”
“I guess you’ve got to start somewhere,” he said. “Sedan? Hatchback?”
“Cheap. And I have to be able to fit in a mirror and hang garment bags.”
“Anything else?”
When she shook her head, he said, “Are you telling me that you don’t care what it looks like? What color it is?”
She took her time swallowing, then patted her lips with exaggerated care and said, “I really care what it looks like, I’m just not sure I can afford to.”
“You’re not going to be happy with just any old car.”
“I know! I start looking and all the cars I can afford are ugly so I quit.”
Mac shook his head at her.
“You can get a good quality car that isn’t ugly without breaking the bank. You just have to know what you’re looking for.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That sounds a lot like shopping for clothes.”
“Does it?”
He hopped off the stool to get the broccoli out of the microwave, spooning half onto his plate and elbowing her out of the way to put the rest on hers.
She pushed at him. “No, no, I don’t want— Now it’s touching my fries.”
“I’m sure you’ve had cheese fries before. You were just telling me you put gravy on french fries.”
“Gravy and cheese on fries is not the same thing as broccoli and cheese on fries. That’s disgusting.”
“Just think of it as Tampa Bay Poutine.”
“Nope, marketing will not save this for you.”
“Eat it.”
Gia made a face, then took a small bite of mostly cheese sauce and he said, “Tell me you love it.”
She snorted, then took a bigger bite. She might have even got a little broccoli.
“It’s not bad. Actually. Just needs a little hot sauce for color.”
Mac said, “Hot sauce. Ketchup. You don’t eat anything plain, do you?”
“No, because that would be plain.”
She munched a broccoli and cheese covered fry. “So, you’re really going to help me shop for a car like I’m helping you shop for clothes?”
He nodded. “How much are you charging again?”
She laughed. “That’s the difference between a professional and an amateur. Pros do it for money. Amateurs do it for love.”
He choked. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment to you.”
“I’m not sure it is either.” She looked around his kitchen. “I might help you decorate your condo though in exchange for the car. Tit for tat.”
He dipped a fry tentatively in his cheese sauce and tasted it.
No. He liked it plain.
Mac said, “First you’d have to convince me what’s wrong with it.”
She shook her head in despair.
“I can’t even with you.”
He choked back a laugh, popping the last bite of Big Mac in his mouth and cajoling her into eating her last bite of broccoli.
“Come on, hurry up so I can show you around my plain, white condo and you can try and talk me into redecorating it. I’ve got to get back to work sometime today.”
Megan BryceThe Tie’s The Limit
Fourteen
Gia brought another outfit for Mac to try on but she didn’t hav
e much hope. He’d been right, his condo had been no help. She just hadn’t believed that there would be no touches of home in his home.
And she still had a headache from the glare.
She waited outside his office while he changed and when he finally opened the door, she didn’t move from her spot. Only said, “No. It’s not you. Take it off.”
He nodded almost happily. Maybe he’d been expecting a fight.
When he opened the door again, he was back in black and adjusting the tie.
She was really starting to hate it.
Maybe she should just start piecemealing it. Get him some ties first. But there were just so many options.
Should she get playful ones? He hadn’t liked the embossed palm trees.
Go super formal?
Ugh, he wasn’t going to love anything she brought him.
And she wasn’t quite desperate enough to just give him something he’d wear.
She did have professional pride, after all.
She flopped into the seat in front of his desk and stared at the ceiling.
“I really didn’t think this job would be that hard. Maybe I should start looking for a different one.” She waved her hand towards him. “I mean after I finish with you.”
“That’s a big decision. You should do a cost-benefit analysis.”
Gia couldn’t even laugh at the suggestion. She laced her hands behind her head and said, “Pro. I like shopping.”
She glanced at him when he said, “Wait. I’ll write it down for you.”
“Two. I like dressing people who don’t know what their style is yet. Con. It’s not so much fun when they don’t want to know what their style is but hey. Now I know what not to look for in a client.”
Mac typed that all in, which made Gia laugh.
She said, “Pro three. I’m getting paid to do it which is good because people keep telling me I have to buy a car.”
Her first car, and she wasn’t really sure what to think of the experience.
It felt more permanent than she was happy with. She’d have to sell it if she moved back to New York.
When.
When she moved back to New York.
“Con two. People keep telling me I have to buy a car so I can get to my clients.”
Mac said, “I took a few minutes to look on Autotrader and found a car you might like.”
“You did? Already?”
“I may occasionally browse used cars for sale in my off time.”
He turned the computer screen so she could see it and pulled up a page.
“You really do love cars,” she said, and then saw the car he’d found for her. “Nope. That’s not a car to love.”
“A 2005 Buick Park Avenue. It is rather large but the trunk is spacious. You’ll be able to fit the mirror in without laying down the back seat.”
She scrounged for any acceptable reason to say no to the monstrosity he’d found for her and said hesitantly, “I won’t be able to turn left in it.”
“I Googled your little eccentricity and was surprised to find there are other drivers who won’t turn left too. Even the TV show Mythbusters showed it’s sometimes faster to make three rights instead of a left.”
“Well, it is faster for me. So, huh. Good.”
“Now it’s not a psychological problem, Gia. You’re simply being efficient.”
“And that makes it not weird to you?”
He nodded. “I might try it tomorrow to see if I can shave off a few minutes on the way to work. I’ve plotted the route already.”
She shook her head. “Sounds like you’re the one with the psychological problem. But it might be nice if I had the option of turning left. Just in case.”
Mac nodded. “You’d probably take up four parking spots still, too.”
“It would be nice to stop getting nasty notes under my windshield wipers.”
He shot her a look. “I’m surprised you haven’t come out and found four flat tires.”
“I always park at the back of the lot! And I’ve lost ten pounds since moving here because of all the walking I have to do. How can I walk more here than in New York?”
Mac said, “Have you considered that it’s not the Escalade’s fault? You should try parking my car.”
Gia gasped and sat up.
“You’re never going to let me drive your Camaro.”
“There’s maybe a hypothetical chance I’d let you drive my Camaro. Someday. When you’ve learned how to drive.”
She was so shocked she couldn’t even get mad.
He said, “But I might let you park it. At the back of an empty lot.”
She just stared at him with her mouth hanging open, and it hit Gia how much more comfortable he was with her now. As if inviting her to his home—okay, as if being blackmailed into taking her there—had changed them into friends.
He gestured to the screen. “The Buick’s not perfect but it’s cheap and reliable. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“But it’s ugly,” she whined, and then saw his grin.
He said, “So, you’re telling me you care what it looks like?”
She groaned. “Is this a joke?”
“Kind of. I didn’t think you’d like it but I figured why let that stop me. It’s never stopped you.”
She breathed out a sigh of relief and then reached across the desk to pinch him.
“I thought you didn’t kid around.”
He rubbed his arm, a slight smile shining in his blue eyes. They were so light, Gia knew they would reflect any color he wore.
If she could only get him to wear some color.
“I don’t. Usually,” he said and pulled up a different page. “This is the car.”
Gia leaned forward to look.
“That’s not a car. That’s an SUV.”
“True. I just don’t know how you can do what you need to with a trunk, unless the car’s as big as a boat. But with a small SUV you can lay the seats down, plus you should be able to park it. If you can find the interest.”
She said, “I really should practice with yours first. Just to make sure.”
“Just find an empty parking lot,” he said and she grinned.
“How ‘bout this parking lot tonight after work?”
There were still a few cars left in the parking lot at five-thirty, so Gia headed up to his office.
She’d come prepared with sub sandwiches and chips and Cokes. The thought of his empty fridge in his sterile condo made her pity him, just a little bit, and when he looked at the bag of food in surprise, she said, “I mean, they’re not New York subs but there’s vegetables and stuff on it. I thought you’d like that.”
“Thank you.”
“And I thought I should feed us since who knows how long you’ll let me drive your car—”
“You’re not driving my car. You’re parking it.”
“Sure. But I’ll have to drive it around until I find a spot I think it’ll fit in.”
He narrowed his eyes as he unwrapped the turkey breast, light on mayo she’d got him. She’d told them to fill ‘er up on vegetables, and the bread could hardly close around the lettuce, tomato, spinach, onion, green peppers, black olives, and pickles.
He said, “I notice you didn’t get any vegetables.”
“I would have but it’s a meatball sub. Come on.”
She watched him try to figure out how to pick up his sandwich without everything falling out and said, “Want to go splitsies? You’ve probably never had a meatball sub in your life.”
He stopped and took a good look at the red sauce spilling out of her sandwich.
“There’s a knife in the office kitchen,” he said, standing, and she grinned.
“I should have got you one of these instead of boring turkey.”
“I like mine. I just want you to get some green with your dinner.”
“Uh-huh.”
Gia popped open her chips, making herself comfortable, and when Mac came back with the knife, he
cut their sandwiches exactly down the middle.
Gia took a bite of hot meatball and gooey cheese.
“It’s not bad. It’s not New York but it’s not bad.”
Mac followed her example, wiping the sauce from his chin with a napkin.
“Mm. Good. I like it.”
Gia nodded because duh and washed her bite down with Coke.
She said, “I’ve been thinking about the SUV.”
“And?”
“And I don’t hate it.”
“But you don’t love it,” he said and Gia choked.
“Do you want me to love my car? Do you love your car? Why can’t you love your clothes?”
“I just can’t imagine that I could love clothes.”
“I’ll imagine it for you,” she said, frustrated.
Mac sipped his Coke, then said, “But I think you could love your car so why settle for less?”
“Yes. Exactly!”
“I’ll keep looking at small SUVs. We’ll know it when we see it.”
“Wait, we’re not done talking about you and clothes.”
“All I know is I haven’t loved anything yet but you don’t strike me as the type of person who gives up.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “I can’t imagine anyone else who would still be here trying to find me clothes I like—”
“Clothes you love.”
“And adding in trying to decorate my condo at the same time. You don’t give up. Maybe you don’t know when to give up.”
She smiled at him happily, thinking she liked this more comfortable Mac, and resolved to herself to find his style.
He had some in there. Somewhere.
She knew it.
She’d ridden in his car with him and heard the excitement pulled from his lips. She’d seen the craftsmanship and detail he’d put into restoring it and knew he cared about how it looked.
She’d make him care how he looked too.
Gia said, “You will love your condo. I know just what to do with it.”
“You do? Already?”
“We paint it! Then all your white furniture will look chic and clean, instead of ghostly. And ghastly.”
Mac balled up his tomato-stained wrapper and tossed it in the trash.
“Actually, I don’t hate that idea. I think I’d prefer to paint than buy everything new again.”
“Huh. I imagined that conversation being a lot more frustrating than it was.”