Sweet Addicted

Chapter 9. I Can't Believe This

"Good morning, Ricky," I smiled at the handsome young receptionist causing him to blush and mutter good morning back to me.

"Is the human resource assistant in? I've got something I need to drop off."

"Hey, Suray. He's currently having a meeting with a few of the managers but they should be done in a few minutes. Can I offer you any refreshments in the mean time?"

I looked towards the breakfast bar, drooling at the warm aromas that the foods sent out. In my haste to get there on time I'd skipped breakfast.

Smiling politely, I responded, "I'll help myself, thank you."

He nodded and went back to typing on his MacBook while I made my way over. I looked at him for a moment. He seemed fresh out of high school - very handsome - but his demeanor was that of someone older.

I could tell that he was a heartbreaker, most likely unintentional, seeing as he was so polite and friendly with his deep, southern accent. Curly, dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes plus a decent height made for the lovely package that was Ricky. I laughed inwardly at myself for checking out the teenager. I've been told that I was very observant -too observant- at times.

I grabbed a cup of coffee, adding a splash of cream and a warm chocolate croissant. I'd never liked plain coffee, it tasted very bland - just my opinion - but I needed the boost that morning. Nervous didn't begin to describe how I felt and I dreaded the outcome of that meeting more than I admitted to anyone.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't hear Ricky calling my name twice before. "Miss Grace."

I looked up from the plaque that I was staring past. Not a single word written on it registered in my brain in the fifteen minutes that I sat waiting. My habit of eating whenever stressed caused me to visit the breakfast bar twice more, leaving Ricky to stare at me amused.

"I'm a nervous eater," I sheepishly said when he'd caught me having a third croissant. They were so warm and buttery and the chocolate, my goodness, it was dark, so creamy and smooth. Heaven.

"Yes, sorry, what did you say?"

"Mister Shmeck will see you now."

"Right, thank you." After tossing the wrappers and taking the packets out of my bag, I straightened up and entered the office next door to Miss Sullivan.

The man looked up from his notepad upon my entrance and I gazed baffled at the person before me. It was the asshole who threatened to report my stall at the fair. "I can't believe this," I muttered inaudibly pretending to be getting something out of my bag."

Jonathan Shmeck was average in looks. He wasn't hideous but he wouldn't get a second glance from me if I were his age. He was probably in his late fifties, I guessed, from the grey strands that meshed with his dark brown hair where he wasn't starting to bald. He had on a brown pinstriped suit that day. Too large on his frame, the color and his skin didn't mesh at all with the pair of glasses sat on the bridge of his long nose.

What the hell was he doing as an HR assistant with his incredibly poor attitude? It's like they were just handing out positions to anyone those days.

I quickly composed myself, not wanting to give him the upper hand and letting him annoy me, seeing as he was already smirking at me. What a fool. I would not let this man get under my skin.

"Hello, Miss Grace, don't look so upset now," he pouted, which caused an expression of disgust to cross my features. My name sounded so wrong coming out of his filthy mouth. He'd tried to sound polite but his tone was condescending. "It's a pleasure to formally meet the young woman whom I've heard so much about. I apologize for my rude attititude at the fair, I was having a not so good day."