Chapter 16 Dawsen
Dawsen
I’ve been pacing the shop all morning, trying to focus on some inventory orders and getting some tax documents together for my accountant, but the thought of Birdie showing up at any minute has me feeling unsettled and anxious.
Greg and Savannah have been eyeing me suspiciously all morning, and I hear them whispering like little town gossips, which is partially my own damn fault—when they arrived this morning, I was already in the middle of answering emails, and I don’t typically roll into the shop until well after they’ve finished up the opening protocol, so I kind of gave them reason to yap about why I’m acting so fucking wired.
I can’t help the way my body reacts to being around her. It feels an awful lot like my body knew I was in love with her way before my heart and my mind accepted it, because I’ve reacted this way for years.
I’m making my way back out into the shop from my back office when I see her walking down the sidewalk towards the front doors. I feel heat rush up my neck and into my face. I pinch the bridge of my nose in between my eyes hoping to still my heart rate a bit.
She’s wearing black leather boots that stop right below her knee, and a white button down shirt is tucked into the tiniest skirt I’ve ever seen, and a tweed vest is layered on top of that.
Her dark hair is dancing in the breeze and she’s wearing a red beret like a fucking cherry on top.
She’s like a walking wet dream. I mentally scold myself for my current train of thoughts.
I suck in a deep breath as she struts in. She comes to a halt as soon as she sees me looking right at her from the back of the store.
“Birdie Banks, reporting for duty.” She straightens her body, standing like a soldier at attention, and then salutes me.
Fuuuuuck me.
“Sorry I’m a little late. I didn’t account for the time it would take me to walk here from the furthest spot I could find.” She fires at me with a wink, as she strides up to me from the front door and I don’t miss the way her hips sway with every step.
I laugh nervously because I feel like I can’t think straight all of a sudden.
It’s that damn skirt and the thoughts I’m having about it.
Like who do I have to thank for making it, what’s underneath it, and what would it look like upstairs on the floor next to my bed.
I try to clear my throat as I try to put some words into a sentence so I don’t look like I’m having a stroke.
“You don’t have to park down the road, Birdie. Just take one of the spots up front next time.” I say sternly, trying to act cool, but I can hear my voice come out laced with angst. Shit.
“Absolutely not. I’m hoping to earn my spot for employee of the month, so that just won’t do.” She says playfully and juts her chin out at me like she’s proud of herself. “We don’t have employees of the month.” I say plainly, trying to look unbothered and casual by leaning against the bar top.
“Why the hell not? You need to incentivize your employees Dawsen. People like to be recognized for doing a good job. It’s like…
motivational, and great for business.” She says in rebuttal.
I hear Greg’s muffled voice call out from the store room, “She’s right, I sure could use some incentivizing.
I’ve really been feeling under-appreciated these days.
I might even start looking for work someplace else. ” He says dramatically.
Birdie lights up and waves her hand in the direction of Greg, like she’s excited to have another person on board.
“Okay, okay. I’ll figure out some sort of reward system. Lay off about it now. And don’t you have something to be doing besides listening in on my conversations, Greg?” I snap back.
Greg just huffs out a laugh and grabs a broom and begins sweeping and says, “I’ll stop listening in on your conversations when you stop acting like a wound up ball of stress.”
I see Birdie raise a quizzical brow at me with a small smirk spreading across those soft lips of hers.
We’re about to open up for the day, and I need to get this meeting with Birdie going, because the sooner I start, the sooner I can get her out of here. I need the space. My body is having way too many physical reactions to her presence and I’m trying really fucking hard to not give myself away.
“Alright Birdie, let’s go have a chat in my office.” I start leading the way, and she follows suit. We pass the coffee maker on the way back, I pause, “Can I get you a cup of coffee? It’s no maple latte, but it is actually pretty good stuff.”
She stares at the coffee pot for a beat, then looks right at me, “Maple Latte. You know my coffee order?” She deadpans. Looking a little confused.
Shit. So much for playing it cool and not giving myself away.
I rub the back of my neck, trying to find my way out of this without sounding like a total stalker for remembering her coffee order. So, naturally, I’m an asshole and over-correct, making her feel like an idiot no doubt.
“You’ve been drinking the same thing as long as I’ve known you… it’s not rocket science.” I spit out.
With that, I can see her retreat a bit. Her shoulders slouch just barely an inch, but I can tell the edge in my voice deflated her a bit, and I hate myself for it.
“Oh, yeah. You’re right. Uh, I’ll take a cup, yeah.
” She says, with really no defining expression, almost like I snuffed the light out of her eyes.
I grab my favorite mug off the shelf and pour her a cup.
I hand it to her and nod my head in the direction of my office. She takes the cup and follows me back.
My office is pretty simple. It’s got an oak desk in the center, and a small cognac leather sofa across from it.
There’s little in the way of decor, but I do have a large fiddle leaf tree in the corner and a couple of framed photos of historic downtown Saddlebrooke hanging on the walls.
It’s nothing fancy, but it does the job.
I’m the only person to use the space, so I’ve never needed much.
But now that she’s here, I wish I spent more time on it.
I want to impress her, and at the same time, I want so badly to not care.
“Nice place, boss.” Birdie breaks the silence.
Her playfulness is back, but the brightness in her voice isn’t there like it was earlier.
“Bird. Stop calling me boss.” I say as I motion for her to take a seat on the sofa, as I make my way around my desk to my chair.
“Whatever you say, boss.” She says, with an emphasis on the word, almost with a snarky tone, and I can’t blame her. I guess she thinks two can play this game.
I just shake my head and grunt. “So, I’m really grateful that you’re gonna do this mural. It’s going to be really something.”
“I’m really grateful for the opportunity.
So… what exactly are you thinking for the mural?
” She asks, while sitting in the most upright posture, one leg crossed on top of the other, her hands wrapped around my favorite mug resting on top of her knee, distracting me from her question.
I lean back in my chair and rub the scruff coming in on my face while I try to focus.
“I actually don’t really have anything in mind.
I was kind of hoping maybe you’d have some ideas, or maybe have a direction you’d like to go.
You’re the artist, so I trust you and what you think would look best.” I say, because quite honestly I never really thought about having a mural in the winery before.
I just knew I wanted to give her some sort of purpose, and I selfishly just want to be the man responsible for setting this girl free from what she thinks of herself right now.
I want to watch her reclaim her spirit. I want to be there when she realizes how damn amazing she is.
“Wow, free reign huh? That’s a lot of trust in one person. What if I decided to paint a gigantic dick in the name of art.” She puts finger quotes around the word, “art.” I chuckle, and give her a shrug.
“Like I said, I trust you, and I’d trust that you’d paint an impressive dick. I could provide inspiration if that’s the direction you decide to go.”
She chokes on her coffee at that and starts laughing, shocked at what just came out of my mouth. She turns bright red, and so do I, because what the fuck did I just say?
“Oh, that won’t be needed. It’s not rocket science.” She laughs at me, throwing my words back at me, and I can’t help but smile at her smart mouth. She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrow at me.
“Touche.” Is all I can say. I think I’m short circuiting. This woman used my own insult right back at me, and I know right then that it must have really left a mark on her sweet heart.
“When should I start?” Birdie breaks through the tension that I put in the room.
“As soon as you can.” I say, looking at my desk, pretending to jot something down on my desk calendar.
“Great! Is now good?” She says eagerly, shifting on the couch like she’s about to get up.
“Uhh, yeah, sure. Let me show you the space and then maybe you can let me know what supplies you’ll need to get started.”
I stand and head towards the door, and she does the same. I lead us out into the hallway and back into the winery. There’s some regulars here sitting at the bar chatting while Greg is uncorking a bottle for them.
Fortunately for me and my winery, Saddlebrooke is a tourist town to a tee.
It’s cute as hell, and I’m a grown ass man admitting that.
It’s like a fucking Hallmark movie here, so the winery has a steady flow of patrons at all times of the day.
Vacationers start drinking surprisingly early, apparently.
I greet them and introduce them to Birdie as head of the Southbound Winery art department.
They shake her hand and she just laughs and says, “Dawsen is commissioning me to do a mural here in the winery. It’s so good to meet you both!
I hope to be seeing more of you around here!
Enjoy the wine. Make sure you try the Horton! ”
I can’t help but laugh, “Norton, Birdie. Not Horton.” I tease.
“Oh, yeah, that’s the one. My bad.” She laughs it off and gives them a little wave. I know she’s just charmed my regulars by the way they’re watching her walk away, and I relate. Big time.
She follows me to the entrance of the winery where I stop in front of a large blank wall lined with small bistro tables.
“So, this is my canvas, huh?” She asks as she puts her hands on her hips while staring at the blank wall, taking it all in.
“That’s the one.” Is all I offer back.
She stares at it for a few seconds and a huge smile spreads across her face. “That’s gonna be one huge penis.”
“Dammit, Bird.” I just say, trying to stifle a laugh.
“Get to work.”