He nods his head. He puts his fingers over mine where they still sit on his lips and he kisses my fingers softly.
Gently, I move them away and look him in the eye. “Plenty of people date guys they work with. It’s really only a problem if we let it become a problem. I know your father wouldn’t approve, but it’s not like I tell him any details of my personal life anyway.”
“Same.” Brett smiles. The smile fades after a moment and he turns serious again. “What exactly are you saying here, Opal?”
“I’m saying we go to work and we remain professional. We both are professionals and we can do it. But after work, then we continue to see each other like this. Like I said, it’s only a problem if we make it a problem. So we draw some ground rules up. No special favors at work, no flirting or messing around there.”
Brett is trying to get a word in again, but I hurry on, cutting him off, “When you really think about it, it’s not that much different to dating anyone else.” I have to make him see this could work, because it really could. “We go to work, do our jobs, be civil and no more. And then after work, we let our hair down and have fun. Only it’s with each other, instead of two different people.”
I have played my final ace and now it’s all on Brett. It comes down to whether or not he likes me enough to want to continue this, because when it comes down to it, I’m the one taking the real risks here. I’m the one Mr. Connell would fire. Well, no that’s not strictly true. He would fire us both. But Brett doesn’t want to work for the company and he has something else to go to. I don’t.
“Can I get a word in now?” Brett asks with a grin playing across his face.
I nod wordlessly, feeling blood rushing to my face.
“Ok.” He nods.
I wait for what comes next. All of the reasons why we can’t do this, but he doesn’t say anything else. Frustrated, I sigh. Why is he dragging this out and making it harder than it has to be? I’ve just laid my heart and soul out in front of him and he’s not even making shutting me down painless. “Ok what?” I press him.
“Ok, let’s do it.” He smiles. “I tried to tell you earlier I liked the idea, but you wouldn’t stop talking.”
I feel like my heart is about to explode. Did he really just agree to do this? Is he as into me as I am to him? “Are you serious? I mean it’s not going to be easy, and if things don’t work out between us, then it could make things pretty awkward at the office.”
“Opal, you’ve just spent five minutes trying to talk me into doing something I already wanted to do anyway. Don’t tell me you’re now, trying to talk me out of it.” Brett laughs.
“No. God no,” I say quickly. “I just wanted to make sure you’ve really thought this through.”
“I’ve thought of nothing else since the moment we got caught together in the sand bunker,” Brett explains. “And I’m aware things could become awkward if this doesn’t work out. So here’s what I think we should do.” He pauses long enough to lean over the table and run his lips softly over mine. “I think we should make damned sure it does work out,” he whispers.
His lips are still almost touching mine and his breath tickles against them when he whispers to me. I feel the warmth of his words spreading through my whole body and I smile at him, feeling tears prickling in the corners of my eyes. “Me too,” I say.
He beams at me and he has never been more handsome than he is in this moment, and I have never been happier than I am right now.
It’s funny, because even knowing this isn’t the end for us, I find I am still not ready to say goodbye to Brett for the night, and it seems he feels the same way, because he flags down our waiter and orders another bottle of wine.
I lose myself in him completely as we drink the wine and talk and talk. We talk about everything. Our hopes, our dreams, our childhoods. We go from laughter to serious and back to laughter again so many times that I lose count. We’re just swapping stories, getting to know each other, drinking each other in, and it’s so wonderful.
While telling Brett about a time in college where I embarrassed myself in front of a full lecture hall, someone clears their throat by our table. I look up to find the waiter standing there.
“My apologies for disturbing your evening,” he says, looking decidedly uncomfortable the way he is fidgeting. “But we closed half an hour ago and I really do need to bring you this.” He puts our bill on the table and moves away before either of us can respond.
I look around and I realize the restaurant is empty, the lights dimmed. The chairs are all up on the other tables and everything has been cleaned down. I look at Brett and we burst into laughter.
“Shit. Talk about losing track of the time.” Brett shakes his head and pulls the bill towards himself. He take out his wallet and puts down three one-hundred dollar bills.
I raise my eyebrow questioningly. The bill was just short of a hundred dollars or so.
“I eat here a lot.” He chuckles. “I’d rather be remembered as the guy who left a great tip than the guy who forced the staff to stay past closing and didn’t even have the decency to make it worth their while.”
“Fair enough.” I smile, standing as Brett does.
We leave the restaurant, both of us calling
