Chapter 3
A dam didn’t seem happy as he looked me up and down. ‘You’re late and dressed like you’re coming from work,’ he said reproachfully, crossing his arms.
‘Only by four minutes,’ I replied, just as annoyed. ‘And I am coming from work.’
Now it was my turn to check him out. He must have gone home to swap his light chinos for dark jeans and his orange hi-vis puffer jacket for a smart casual one. He’d even shaved for our meet-up. Bit of an overkill . It wasn’t like a kiss was on the cards.
‘You stayed at work until seven o’clock?’ The shock and incredulity in his voice were unmistakable.
‘Quarter past seven, if you must know. It took only nineteen minutes to get here on the Tube,’ I said, looking around the street, which was still busy with tourists and theatregoers. ‘Hmm, I’m not sure about this now – I should have chosen a place further from the office. I don’t want anyone from work to see us.’
‘Next time,’ he said. ‘But I wouldn’t worry – most of our colleagues live outside London. I doubt they’d make the journey into the city on a school night.’
‘There won’t be a next time. It’s a one-time thing, remember? And, my God, I hope you’re right.’
He gave me a wink. ‘I’m always right. Shall we go in? After you. I did wonder though, out of all places, why you picked a McDonald’s.’
‘Because it’s quick service,’ I replied as we joined the queue at the self-service machines to order. ‘But I do miss the days when they were committed to serving customers in under a minute.’
‘You just want to wrap this up quickly, don’t you?’ he asked.
‘In total, I estimated thirty-eight minutes for our eating out,’ I told him, and, with great pleasure, I watched his face fall.
‘That’s very precise – how did you arrive at that number?’
‘I calculated approximately three minutes for queuing, five minutes to get served, twenty minutes for eating, five minutes for small talk, and added another five minutes for contingency.’
‘You sound like an awfully slow eater,’ he said. ‘And what’s with the contingency?’
‘I’ve allowed some extra time for unforeseen events.’
‘Like what? Do you think they might run out of Diet Coke by the time we get to order, and it’d take you a whole five minutes to decide whether you can cope with the calories in the regular Coke or if you should go for bottled water instead?’
Getting tired of his jokes, I stared ahead and said, ‘I thought perhaps I’d extend my stay in case you proved to be a pleasant conversational partner, but clearly there’s no risk of that.’
‘You know just how to flatter a man. I can see now why you’re still single.’
‘Being single is my choice.’
‘Every single person says being alone is their decision when they’ve been unlucky at finding a partner.’
‘The same goes for you then,’ I said. ‘I can’t see a ring on your finger either.’
His eyes darted to his left hand as if to double-check that he indeed wasn’t wearing one. ‘Just because I don’t wear a ring doesn’t mean I’m not committed to being in a relationship.’
‘Are you?’
‘Let’s just say being single isn’t my choice – it takes two.’
‘You’ve been turned down then…’
He let out a long sigh accompanied by a theatrical wave of his hand. ‘All the time.’
‘Poor you. I can’t even fathom why,’ I said. ‘Perhaps it’s down to your poor conversational skills. ’
‘There’s nothing wrong with my conversational skills. I could get a girlfriend if I wanted to, but, unfortunately, I have a particular taste…’
‘Unfortunate for you, lucky for the ladies. Look, it’s our turn.’
I placed my order for a grilled chicken salad while he opted for the biggest burger meal. Despite his protests, I paid; I didn’t want to owe him again in any shape or form.
Service was extremely quick, so it seemed there was a good chance of getting away earlier than I’d thought – this cheered me up somewhat.
‘Do you really think I’m that bad?’ he asked as we took off our coats and settled at a table with our trays.
I pitied him; he’d even put on a dark purple going-out shirt. He may have thought we’d be having drinks somewhere after this. No chance!
His expression now was that of a dying lamb. It confused the hell out of me how he could look so harmless and innocent one second and like a game-playing jerk the next. I didn’t like two-faced or unpredictable people.
‘I guess you seem okay.’ I thought I’d go easy on him for once and picked up a chicken piece with my fork before adding, ‘But I don’t really know you. Not that I need to. I only need to know what’s relevant to work.’
‘You keep talking as if this is a business meeting. Hell, you’re dressed for a business meeting!’
‘In a way, it is…’ I said tentatively. ‘After all, it’s all transactional. You want something from me, and I want something from you. And hopefully, this meeting will conclude our business.’
‘What is it you think I want?’ His almond-shaped eyes bored into mine, as if he was desperately trying to penetrate my thoughts, but there wasn’t much to see.
‘That I haven’t quite figured out,’ I admitted. ‘But you obviously fancy me.’
‘Obviously – who wouldn’t find your witty insults and lack of empathy charming and attractive?’ he said then forced a giant smile .
There was some mustard at one corner of his lips, and I toyed with the idea of letting him know. His lips were full, even when stretched to their absolute limits – one might call them kissable. They must have played with mine that night in Cardiff. However, I still had no recollection of any physical interaction between us.
His expression eased, and his tongue slowly circled around the edge of his mouth, cleaning off the sauce. I realised I must have prompted him to do so by unconsciously licking my lips.
I dropped my head, ignoring his comment, and continued, ‘Well, I guess you’re new in town, so you probably don’t have a lot of friends here yet. And you must be desperately seeking to socialise because you’re a people person. Perhaps you’re just going through all the women in the office and ticking me off your list right now.’
‘You’re now contradicting yourself,’ he said. ‘Also, you can’t honestly believe I’d be into Selena, Diane, or Jenny? Thanks, but I’m not one for breaking up marriages.’
I quickly deduced that the three younger and better-looking female colleagues – Chrissy, the tall Latina; Katie, the petite Scot; and my junior surveyor, Ritha – were still in the game. Apart from their hairstyles, they all looked very similar: dark and sultry (in Katie’s case, it was a fake tan, but nevertheless a tan) compared to my pale complexion, sandy blonde hair, and olive-green eyes.
After taking another bite of my salad, I asked, ‘How am I contradicting myself?’
‘The other day, you thought I must have a lot of friends who could have picked me up from Paddington.’
‘No, I said there must be “someone”, not plural.’
I’d scored a quick win, and the conversation halted until he’d finished his burger and fries. Meanwhile, his eyes eagerly followed the movements of the paper cutlery in my hand.
‘You really are a slow eater,’ he told me, sounding repulsed. ‘But is that enough food for you?’
‘Excuse me, I like to chew my meal properly. And should I get hungry later, I’ll just have something at home. ’
‘Do you realise the whole point of going out for dinner is that you shouldn’t have to eat later? You should have just ordered more – it ain’t that bad. And let me remind you that it was you who wanted to come here.’
‘Yes, the food is okay,’ I agreed. ‘I like McDonald’s; you always know what to expect when you walk into one.’
‘Are you a self-appointed marketing manager for McDonald’s? Or do you secretly work in their commercial department too, and luring men in here is a new strategy to boost their sales?’
‘I think they’re doing just fine without my help.’
Once I’d swallowed the last bit of the salad and wiped my mouth with a napkin, I said, ‘Jokes aside, why did you leave the Christmas party and come all the way to Cardiff with me?’
‘Do you want the truth?’ he asked. ‘Alright, when I was a child, my father taught me to never say no to a woman.’
‘That’s it?’
‘Yes. It usually proves to be very good advice.’
‘Do you think it wasn’t in this case?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You’re always talking in riddles – it’s exhausting!’
He smirked. ‘Perhaps you should just learn to read between the lines.’
‘I’m not a literary person; I’m a numbers person. Numbers never lie. I always know where I stand with them.’
‘Are you saying you don’t know where you stand with me?’
‘Hmm, I think I’ve pretty much figured you out by now.’
‘Really?’ he asked. ‘That’s interesting. A minute ago, you said you didn’t know what I wanted from you.’
‘But workwise, yes, I’ve figured you out.’
He sat back in the chair and folded his arms. ‘Come on, Sherlock, what have you deduced?’
‘Well, you’re an okay site manager. You have good people skills – I mean with the subcontractors and the residents – and you’re relatively organised when it comes to following the programme of works. You seem to like what you do, but you don’t go the extra mile to climb higher on the ladder. You’re the type of person who needs to be pushed and will eventually just outgrow your current role.’ It was actually what David had said to me the other day when I’d asked him what he thought of Adam. However, I too had noticed how quickly Adam responded to email queries – but strictly within his remit.
‘Just “okay”? Then what about outside work?’
‘I told you already: you come across as a people person. But I don’t need to know what you’re like outside work. We’re just colleagues.’
‘We aren’t at work right now,’ he noted.
‘And? If we weren’t colleagues, we wouldn’t be here right now.’
‘Are you saying that under different circumstances, you’d never consider going on a date with a man like me?’
I admired how cleverly he’d avoided using the word ‘blackmail’ in that sentence.
‘Likely not… and this is not a date.’
‘But I asked for a date,’ he cried. ‘If this isn’t a date, then technically you still owe me.’
‘Fine, if it makes you feel better, call it a date then. And just so you know, I’ve already transferred the money to you – check your account.’
‘How did you know how much to transfer, and how do you know my account number?’
‘Since you didn’t bring me the statement as we’d agreed, I had to figure it out for myself. Luckily, I memorised your card details when I was giving it back to you – it has your account number on it. And the online order confirmations came through to my email address – I added up the figures. Also, I saw the hotel bill in the room. Then all I had left to do was check online how much train tickets cost from London to Cardiff. Voila! It really isn’t rocket science.’
He nodded. ‘Impressive. I can see why you’re a commercial manager. Most days, I struggle to even remember my PIN. Do you have a photographic memory like in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo ? ’
‘Nah, I’m just good with numbers. I can’t recite poems but can remember number sequences. It’s a gift or a curse; depends how you look at it. Besides, it’s still senior surveyor – my title change will only come into effect in a couple of months.’
‘Whatever,’ he said. ‘Commercial lead then. But didn’t we agree that you wouldn’t need to pay me back anything if we went on a date?’
‘I never agreed not to send you the money.’
‘Then why did you still come if you’d made the transfer?’
‘I told you before – to shut you up. However, there’s one thing I don’t understand. How did you manage to survive Christmas without any money?’
He turned slightly red before replying, ‘I had a credit card at home, but I don’t like to keep it in my wallet because I just end up using it. I don’t like accumulating debt.’
Perhaps we did have another thing in common beyond using the same gym.
‘Then why did you wait over a week to ask for your bank card back?’ I asked.
‘Because I wasn’t here; I flew back home for the holidays. Anyway, I thought the number I had for you was your work phone. Who keeps their work mobile on at Christmas?’
‘David,’ I said, sipping on my drink. ‘He has to in case there’s an emergency.’
‘Guess I’m lucky that I’m not a contracts manager then,’ he joked, then looked me deep in the eye and put his hand on mine. ‘Evelyn, you do realise I’d have never told anyone about us even if you hadn’t turned up today?’
His warm touch was sending strange waves to the bottom of my stomach – I pulled my hand away.
‘There’s no “us”,’ I said firmly.
‘I meant what happened in Cardiff.’
‘I don’t trust you. It’s nothing personal; I don’t trust anyone.’
‘There must be someone you trust,’ he said, furrowing his eyebrows. ‘A friend? Or a family member?’
‘Nope. ’
‘That’s sad. How can you live like that?’
I smiled darkly. ‘Oh, believe me, I can.’
‘Are you still worried about me slipping up at work?’ he asked.
‘I told you I don’t trust you.’
‘Okay, then go out on another date with me.’
‘Are you blackmailing me again?’
‘No, I’ve never blackmailed you. I’m just looking at it from your perspective. Surely it would give you some reassurance that I’ll stay quiet about us as long as I have a vested interest in staying quiet.’
I frowned. ‘I don’t quite follow.’
‘I’ll rephrase it.’
‘No, no, I think I get it. You just have a very twisted way of explaining things. It takes me a minute sometimes to realise what you mean.’
‘So when shall we go out next?’
‘Hmm, let’s not rush it,’ I said, thinking. ‘What about in six months?’
‘ Six months ? That’s really not rushing it.’
‘Surely the “when” doesn’t matter as long as the vested interest is there,’ I pointed out.
‘But my vested interest may not last six months.’
‘You’ve just said you’d never tell anyone about us, and you’re already backtracking on your word? See, that’s exactly why I trust no one.’
‘I think you misunderstood me…’ he said, scratching his head.
‘I understood you perfectly well.’
He sighed. ‘Okay, I’ll wait six months then. Cheers to that.’
‘Cheers.’
We pushed our paper cups together for a second, then both of us took a long sip, gazing at each other. A mischievous glint in those dark eyes made it hard to break away from them. Despite what I’d said to Adam, I was still trying to figure him out. It bugged me how easily he could get under my skin. I’d never felt so irritated by and on the verge of losing my cool with anyone before.
‘Alright: thirty-seven minutes and forty seconds,’ I said, finally moving my eyes away to look at my watch.
‘You timed it?’
‘No, I’ve just calculated it,’ I told him, getting up and grabbing my coat. ‘I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Still with the drink in his hand, he looked up at me and said, ‘And I guess I look forward to us going out again in six months.’