Chapter 4
Mia
He’s a Hunk, but also a Pain in my Derriere
Working with Otto on the inclusive park project is as fun as trying to explain case law to a goldfish. The man doesn’t take anything seriously. I get the sense that beneath the surface he’s always laughing at me.
On the other hand, he’s got the most gorgeous brown eyes—their flirty twinkle pulls me in despite my annoyance with him—and his sexy smile is frustratingly charming. He smells like fresh mountain air and male, a combination that I find surprisingly irresistible. On top of his unquestionably hunky exterior, Otto has a sharp mind and a quick wit. His humor catches me off guard, making me feel unbalanced—like a colt trying to stand for the first time. My knees become wobbly, and my heart rate skyrockets in his mere presence. By the time the project meeting ended, I was exhausted.
“How did the project meeting go?” my boss and friend, Emma, asks as I enter the back door to her bakery. Tantalizing aromas of sugar, cinnamon, and vanilla tease my nostrils as Emma preps for tomorrow’s offerings. My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten in several hours. Cupcakes for dinner?
“The meeting was horrible!” I say, flopping down in one of the break area chairs, as if my legs can’t hold me any longer.
Looking up from measuring flour for one of her delicious recipes, she says, “Oh no! And you were so looking forward to heading up the special project.”
Tracing the pattern of the table’s wood grain with my finger, I huff, “No longer. Not when a big-headed hockey player is the project co-lead.”
“Hockey player? I thought you were going to be working with someone from the business school,” Emma says as she pours the flour into a bowl then begins to mix.
A sigh escapes. “Remember Levi’s housemate, Otto?”
“Ooh! The good looking one?”
I’d argue that the other housemate, Joey, is equally good looking, but in a burlier way. Guess Emma isn’t attracted to muscles.
“That’s him. Good looking, full of himself, and according to the business school dean, a brilliant creative mind.” I frown, using air quotes around the dean’s comment. My ego is still stinging as I recall Otto’s glowing endorsement from his dean, whereas the only compliment Dean Smith could muster about me is my organizational skills.
A laugh rips from Emma’s lips. “Are we talking about the guy who acted like a gawky teenager when he tried to ask you out?”
I still wonder what was up with that cringe-worthy interaction. He was either nervous or he has no experience with women. However, if you have eyes in your head, you wouldn’t believe that. He’s a hunk and I bet he has to ward off the puck bunnies with his hockey stick. Or maybe he welcomes them with open arms.
“Yep, that’s the guy. Otto,” I reply with a dejected pout.
“Mia, you’re the most determined person I know. You’ll find a way to work with Mr. Hockey Stick and you might even end up liking him,” she says, exaggerating her comment with an eyebrow waggle. Emma is always looking for a matchmaking opportunity, but this time she’s way off the mark.
“There’s no way that’s going to happen. I’ll be lucky if I can tolerate him for the duration of the project.” Stemming any further discussion, I leap to my feet and don one of Emma’s signature frilly pink aprons. “I’m on front of house duty. See you later,” I say as I stride through the stainless-steel doors that enclose the kitchen.
Taking a calming breath, I shove any wayward thoughts about the irritating Otto Stagmeier out of my head. I position myself behind the bakery case, glue on a smile and tend to a waiting customer. “Hello, how may I help you?”
~*~
When I arrive home after my shift, I sink onto my bed, wishing I could go to sleep. But I need to take care of a few more things before I retire for the day. The late shift at the bakery wore me out because a raucous after-movie crowd needed a sugar and caffeine fix. Who knew Marvel movie fans could be so obnoxious and demanding? They left several tables filled with their trash and another table was covered with a spilled latte that leaked over the edge and onto the floor. I was the only person closing, so I had to mop the floor on top of all my other duties.
After slipping off my shoes and rubbing my sore toes for a few seconds, I flip open my laptop to look at my Inbox. My blood pressure soars when I read the email from none other than my good-looking project co-lead, Mr. Hockey Stick.
Subject: Unable to Meet Deadline
Dear Ms. Robinson,
I had the pleasure of reviewing the extensive and highly organized project spreadsheet you emailed me and noticed that the design for the flyer and invitations are due by the end of the week. Unfortunately, without an agreed upon theme, my creative genius will not be able to make that deadline. I look forward to resolving this issue pronto. Therefore, may I suggest we meet over coffee tomorrow at 7am? Your choice of venue.
Your loyal servant,
Otto
P.S. I have researched training pigeons for delivery of the invitations and can report on progress.
My eyes glance at the clock. Ugh! It’s already 10pm. I had hoped to spend several hours on the internet thoroughly researching a theme, then email Mr. Hockey Stick a list he could select from. Now he wants to meet in person early tomorrow morning, which leaves me no time to prepare. And I still need to complete my homework for my constitutional law class that’s due tomorrow afternoon. I need to buy a little time, so I whip off a brisk reply.
Subject: Coffee Meeting
Dear Mr. Stagmeier,
I will be unable to meet tomorrow at 7 but can fit you into my busy schedule at 11. Please join me at Emma’s Cupcakes and Sweets where I will be working the early morning shift. We can brainstorm during my 15-minute break.
Regards,
Mia
P.S. There are no pigeons on this project, please discontinue your research.
Send! I press the key with a flourish and a grimace. My email sounds agreeable and professional even though I’m peeved that I’ll be up half the night trying to outwit Otto on a theme. And what’s up with his fixation on pigeons?
~*~
Morning comes far too soon as my alarm rings at 5am. Dragging myself out of bed, I hop into the shower, turn on hot water and almost scald myself in order to wake-up. I take a little extra time on my hair and makeup, so I look like my usual organized and professional self for my shift. I tell myself that my extra effort has nothing to do with my meeting with the hunky hockey player.
I assist Emma as we bake the first batch of today’s offerings. It’s a shame Bailey left because she was a whiz at frosting cupcakes. Me, on the other hand, am only able to create a perfectly frosted cake about every third try. Emma says I’ll eventually catch on, but I have my doubts. After icing and decorating strawberry cupcakes, I work out in the front. Customer interaction at this time of the morning isn’t exactly my forte, so I efficiently fill orders without any unnecessary chit-chat. When Bailey worked here, she made the customers laugh and they always left jollier than when they arrived. In my case, they leave with a correctly filled order.
At five minutes to eleven, my heart starts pounding in my chest. I run to the employee restroom to make sure my hair is secured and tidy in its professional bun, my makeup is smudge-free, and my blouse is neatly tucked in my black slacks. Today’s meeting with Otto didn’t warrant wearing a suit, although I feel a little underdressed without it—almost like a knight who forgot to wear his battle armor.
Tick. . . tick. . . tick. . .
I position myself at a table in the back of the shop with my laptop, a cup of coffee, and a breakfast cupcake. My eyes remain glued to the clock on the back wall as it counts Otto’s lateness. Eleven o’clock comes and goes, no Otto. Five minutes after...Eight minutes after...
When the bells on the door jingle, I look up. My heart stops beating for several seconds as I drink in the man who just came bursting through the door.
“Sorry I’m late!” Otto says in a breathless voice as he hurries over to me. His hair is mussed, he’s wearing a pair of athletic shorts that fit him oh-so-well, and his T-shirt is stretched tight over his sculptured chest. This man has been concealing an incredibly fit and impressive physique.
All my tedious preparations to appear composed and professional fly out the window as my jaw drops and I gawk at him. Swoon!