Hello Adventure

Chapter 9

"Guess you're going to have to let me introduce myself now, huh?" He held out his hand in front of me, and the awkwardness rubied the high planes of my cheeks. Everyone was watching us in intrigued silence, so I took his outstretched hand in a firm grip. How could I not?

"I'm Dale Huntley," he told me with a self-satisfied smile, pumping my hand.

"Of course you are," I mumbled. He wouldn't let go of my hand just yet.

I recognized his name, just as he had recognized mine—last night, off the credit card, I slowly realized. Dale Huntley—all 6-foot-plus of him with the linebacker-size hand that was thrusting into mine in a very public prolonged handshake—was none other than the Doux pastry chef who we'd be working with for the next six weeks.

Feeling every eye on me made my perspiring even worse. Finally he let go of my hand and took a seat next to Brooke—all nice and close and cozy like.

I took stock of the damage: I hit on Brooke's new boyfriend and my new co-worker. Not "hit on," what an outdated euphemism. "Threw myself at" was far more applicable. Talk about unprofessional. Why do I have to be so cringe?! I balled internally.

Dale kissed Brooke on each side of her cheeks, and I immediately started the meeting. I tried to ignore them as I thundered through the itinerary, daily schedule, and expected output for the next six weeks. Despite my non-stop gabbing, I couldn't help but notice the way Dale rested his fingers on Brooke's sun-kissed shoulder blade, while whispering into her cute little ear as she nibbled on a strawberry. (It was the most I saw her eat so far.)

When I heard Dale call her "babe," my insides turned thinking of last night. I wonder if he went straight to Brooke's room right after I flashed him my half-naked butt.

Well, that was certainly the end of that. I would not be trying to bed another stranger like that ever again.

I kept talking and talking, and to this day I have no idea what I said, but soon it was an hour later and everyone was fully debriefed. We were meeting for our first shoot at the hotel gardens at sunset, and everyone went off to prepare.

"Nice work," Dale said, lingering after everyone departed. He stood over me. Perspiration glistened off his built arms, and I tried not to notice them or anything else about him. "We could have used someone as organized as you on the Stockholm shoot."

Let's just get this over with, I figured. I was hot under the umbrella, but whether it was because of the morning's heat or the last night's humiliation was yet to be determined. I longed to undo my collared shirt, just one more button to get some air, but I didn't want Dale thinking I was coming on to him—yet again.

"Why didn't you tell me we were working together?" I murmured, pushing my chair back to stand up.

He backed himself onto the table to sit and playfully swung his legs, one at a time like a little kid. "Because you did not want to know," he bit back a grin. "Trust me, I tried."

"I don't trust you," I snapped. "I can't believe you just let me go on like that." I knew it wasn't really his fault, but it felt good to mad at someone other than myself for a moment.

"Babe—"

"I'm not your 'babe.'"

Oh, I know who your babe is. I wanted to boast. I wanted him to know that I knew alllllll about him and Brooke. After last night, we both knew he had an advantage over me, and I wanted to level the score before he could use his upper hand against me. But I couldn't betray Brooke and let him know she told me, so I shifted tactics.