Greg Weber couldn’t have seemed any odder to me at the moment. Was he actually trying to tease me or flirt? “Of course I pump my own gas. Where have you been for the last twenty years? There aren’t any full-service gas stations in this part of town.”
He grabbed the hose from me. “Let me do it. You’re going to get it all over your shoes,” he said as he accidentally pushed the lever and some gasoline squirted onto his loafers. I tried not to laugh, coughing instead.
“Dude, I hope you don’t smoke.” I took the hose back and started filling my tank. “Never mind, I’ve done it plenty of times myself.” I rolled my eyes as I faced the gas pump. What a maroon!
“I’m not a moron,” he yelped.
“I didn’t say anything.” I was trying to keep from laughing out loud. I knew that once I started, I’d never stop.
“But you were thinking it.”
“Grow up, will you? So where do I need to drop you off?”
“Just down on Oak Street. Do you want to eat lunch first, Allison?”
In the absence of a better offer . . . “Sure. What do you feel like having?”
“What about the tea room on the square? I heard you tell Laura that you’ve been craving the food there.”
“That’s a chick restaurant. I won’t make you do something that girly just because I’m giving you a ride. There’s a barbeque place a few streets down. I really like the smoked turkey and the sausage, but I don’t eat them very often. You know, at my age you can’t just eat barbeque whenever you want it.”
He nodded gravely. “Yes, I believe at your age a female can be in as much risk of heart disease as a male.” There’s a good pick-up line.
“Maybe we should go to the tea room after all.” I said, punching the remaining information into the gas pump keyboard. No, I didn’t want a receipt. That way I could remain in blissful denial over the fact that I’d just paid 2.75 a gallon for gas.
“You’re driving. You decide where we go. I don’t have anything to do this afternoon.” “That makes one of us,” I said, climbing into the car, careful to avoid flashing any thigh. After all someone my age probably shouldn’t. “I’ve got a butt-load of cases waiting for me back at the office.”
I pulled onto the street and stopped at the light. “Are you happy with your car, Allison?” Greg asked running his hand along the wood on the door.
“I guess so. I really wanted a Prius, but there was no way I would let myself spend $33,000 on a car, not when I paid less for this one than I did ten years ago for my Camry.” He was quiet for a minute, looking out the window at the Victorian houses we were passing.
“Why don’t you ever let yourself do what you want?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“What?” I whispered, not really wanting him to repeat his question. Thank God the restaurant was just around the corner. The gasoline he’s spilled on his shoes was making me feel a little light-headed.
“Well, I distinctly heard you say that you wanted to eat at the tea room and now you aren’t because you have some strange idea that I would consider it unmanly to be seen there. You didn’t buy the car you say you wanted because you can’t seem to let yourself spend the money that you and I both know you have, and you’ll probably go back to the office and put in more work than most of your co-workers, even though you’d rather do something else.”
I had pulled into a parking space at the back of the parking lot. “So I guess you think you know what I want to do with my afternoon, Greg?” I turned to face him.
A smile came over his face—not the usual goofy smile, but something a little flirtier. “You want to come with me.”
“What?”
“After we eat lunch, of course,” he said touching my arm. “You want me to take you somewhere different—maybe that other planet you think I came from?”
I laughed. “You’re nuts, dude. Come on, let’s eat. I need to talk to you about your newest client anyway.” I started to open the door.
“Only if you promise to do what you really want.” He raised an eyebrow.
I wasn’t really afraid of him. His eyes seemed kind enough. “I have personal time I can take this afternoon,” I heard myself say, although it felt like someone else was talking.
no subject
Greg Weber couldn’t have seemed any odder to me at the moment. Was he actually trying to tease me or flirt? “Of course I pump my own gas. Where have you been for the last twenty years? There aren’t any full-service gas stations in this part of town.”
He grabbed the hose from me. “Let me do it. You’re going to get it all over your shoes,” he said as he accidentally pushed the lever and some gasoline squirted onto his loafers. I tried not to laugh, coughing instead.
“Dude, I hope you don’t smoke.” I took the hose back and started filling my tank. “Never mind, I’ve done it plenty of times myself.” I rolled my eyes as I faced the gas pump. What a maroon!
“I’m not a moron,” he yelped.
“I didn’t say anything.” I was trying to keep from laughing out loud. I knew that once I started, I’d never stop.
“But you were thinking it.”
“Grow up, will you? So where do I need to drop you off?”
“Just down on Oak Street. Do you want to eat lunch first, Allison?”
In the absence of a better offer . . . “Sure. What do you feel like having?”
“What about the tea room on the square? I heard you tell Laura that you’ve been craving the food there.”
“That’s a chick restaurant. I won’t make you do something that girly just because I’m giving you a ride. There’s a barbeque place a few streets down. I really like the smoked turkey and the sausage, but I don’t eat them very often. You know, at my age you can’t just eat barbeque whenever you want it.”
He nodded gravely. “Yes, I believe at your age a female can be in as much risk of heart disease as a male.” There’s a good pick-up line.
“Maybe we should go to the tea room after all.” I said, punching the remaining information into the gas pump keyboard. No, I didn’t want a receipt. That way I could remain in blissful denial over the fact that I’d just paid 2.75 a gallon for gas.
“You’re driving. You decide where we go. I don’t have anything to do this afternoon.”
“That makes one of us,” I said, climbing into the car, careful to avoid flashing any thigh. After all someone my age probably shouldn’t. “I’ve got a butt-load of cases waiting for me back at the office.”
I pulled onto the street and stopped at the light. “Are you happy with your car, Allison?” Greg asked running his hand along the wood on the door.
“I guess so. I really wanted a Prius, but there was no way I would let myself spend $33,000 on a car, not when I paid less for this one than I did ten years ago for my Camry.” He was quiet for a minute, looking out the window at the Victorian houses we were passing.
“Why don’t you ever let yourself do what you want?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“What?” I whispered, not really wanting him to repeat his question. Thank God the restaurant was just around the corner. The gasoline he’s spilled on his shoes was making me feel a little light-headed.
“Well, I distinctly heard you say that you wanted to eat at the tea room and now you aren’t because you have some strange idea that I would consider it unmanly to be seen there. You didn’t buy the car you say you wanted because you can’t seem to let yourself spend the money that you and I both know you have, and you’ll probably go back to the office and put in more work than most of your co-workers, even though you’d rather do something else.”
I had pulled into a parking space at the back of the parking lot. “So I guess you think you know what I want to do with my afternoon, Greg?” I turned to face him.
A smile came over his face—not the usual goofy smile, but something a little flirtier. “You want to come with me.”
“What?”
“After we eat lunch, of course,” he said touching my arm. “You want me to take you somewhere different—maybe that other planet you think I came from?”
I laughed. “You’re nuts, dude. Come on, let’s eat. I need to talk to you about your newest client anyway.” I started to open the door.
“Only if you promise to do what you really want.” He raised an eyebrow.
I wasn’t really afraid of him. His eyes seemed kind enough. “I have personal time I can take this afternoon,” I heard myself say, although it felt like someone else was talking.