Jewels: Nope. You must be strong as hell to throw a bed!
Bear: I'm a bear, remember?
Jewels: Scandalous!
Bear: I know. Slap the cuffs on me.
I entertained doing more than slapping some cuffs on him before shaking the thought away. Yeah, we hit it off, but the dude could wear his pants up to his nipples or have a soul patch for crying out loud.
Bear: So I guess you're technically the goody two-shoes ;)
Jewels: In that sense.
Bear: So we're not allowed to exchange pictures, but can we elaborate on appearances? Let's guess. You go first.
Crap. How do you guess what someone looks like based on conversation?
Someone outdoorsy and active had to be muscular and likely had scruff too. I toyed with the idea of flannel for a moment before remembering his career. I didn't know many executives that rocked it, and outdoorsy didn't mean lumberjack, but it was a hot scenario.
Jewels: Hm. You have brown hair, brown eyes, and a beard? I think you’re average height but fit.
Bear: Way off.
I cringed. There went my lumbersexual fantasy.
Jewels: How off?
Bear: A bit. I'm 6'4”. I have brown hair, but my eyes are blue, and I don’t have a beard. Fit is right. I’m a runner, and I lift weights.
His description threw me for a loop. I really thought I was on the money. And 6’4”? Good God.
Jewels: What about you? What's your guess?
If he said short with boobs for days, he’d be dead on. Mom’s ballerina genes skipped me without a second glance, and I inherited Grandma Julian’s basketball boobs and birthing hips.
Bear: Well, you're not 6’4, so I'm guessing you're 5'7”. Average build with light brown hair cut in a bob... and brown eyes?
Well, he wasn't immune to the impossibility of guessing either.
Jewels: 5'3”. The average build is right. My hair is brown, but I keep it long. My eyes are brown though so ding ding ding!
Bear: You're Keebler sized!
Jewels: Keebler?
Bear: You know... the elves?
Jewels: Oh, thanks, Giant Oak.
Bear: We could be a team. I could reach things on high shelves, and you could fit into tiny doorways in trees.
Jewels: You know, the last time a giant messed with one of mine, you got a rock to the head...
Bear: True. But I can take everything you love and put it on top of the fridge.
I grinned like an idiot at the screen, amused. Bit by bit, the tension of the day left, replaced with a giddiness that only came from scoring a great deal or receiving a compliment from a hunk. I hadn’t even seen his face, and he had me just as wrapped up.
Jewels: Cruelty isn't a nice trait, Bear.
Bear: That's not too cruel. I have lots of other nice traits. I'm funny. I can cook. I look good in hats.
Jewels: I wasn't aware rocking hats was an admirable trait, but I'll let it slide.
Bear: It's difficult. You have to consider your outfit and face shape. It takes serious self-awareness and sophistication. See? I'm fancy too.
Jewels: Fancy? Well, sign me up then.
Bear: Right here on the dotted line, my lady.
I accidentally flicked off the screen and caught a glimpse of my reflection, surprised to see a smile staring back, my eyes sparkling in the dim light.
Either the wine was starting to hit, or I was liking the Bear character, my guard slipping with each exchange. Maybe the Privately thing would work out. Perhaps I'd meet my first match before the month was through.
Of course, it could be a bust, and he could wind up a giant dud, but I was hopeful for once, and that was all the mattered.
Elena
I woke up with too much pep in my step for a Monday — over an hour before the alarm was set to go off.
Usually, I'd roll over and savor the last minutes of precious sleep, but I was too wired to stay in bed.
I couldn't put my finger on it, but I felt lighter. My inner pessimist was waving flags of warning, but I drowned her with a shower.
I didn't want to credit Bear with my lifted spirits, but he hadn't hurt things. We chatted most of the weekend, sharing side-splitting laughs and innocent flirting. He was a hell of a charmer, leaving me swooning left and right.
I went about my morning routine as if Cinderella's scores of animal friends were egging me on, floating around the apartment. I dressed with more care than usual, selecting a purple shift dress and black patent heels, taking extra time to tame my hair.
I packed a tasty lunch with an avocado Caprese wrap in an actual tortilla, not limp lettuce, and grabbed a coffee and muffin on the way in.
By the time I strolled in the front doors of Croft, I was beaming, vowing to have the best Monday on record. Monica wouldn't get to me, and Marty wouldn't piss me off. Even Barrett wouldn't get a rise out of me.
As I approached my workstation, I discovered boxes filling up every inch of the desk and floor. I mentally counted to ten, keeping my great Monday in check.
Maybe the back accidentally left them in my cube. I got weird deliveries from them all the time. They didn't fill up my station, but I got plenty of boxes here and there.
I forced a smile and turned to a waiting Monica, her usual soy latte in hand clutched by lavender talons.
“What's this?”
“Oh, it's a new assignment for you!” she shrilled. “I'll need those all filed by the end of the day.”
I took a deep breath, desperate to quell the sudden flare of anger low in my belly that was endangering my good day vow. “Says who?”
“Management.” She smiled wide, planting her free hand on her waist,
Lee wasn't in yet, so I couldn't look to her for confirmation.
“Who? Marty?” I asked, biting back rage.
Good day oath or not, I wouldn’t let Monica pawn work off on me for kicks. Knowing her,
