carrying on like that with Cooper in a public place?
The crowd was far off and distracted by the approaching storm, still, anyone who wanted to could have walked over and discovered them at any time – including Jason!
‘Should we make a run for it?’
A remarkably collected Cooper asked the question quietly from beside her, seeming to read the distress written on her face. Even though he appeared outwardly composed, Afton noticed his eyes still simmered a deep indigo-blue.
She nodded her head and he grabbed her hand, racing with her back through the sheets of rain to where the soaked crowd was gathering beneath a large red-and-white striped canopy tent where long metal tables were already set up for the barbecue dinner that would be served later.
They huddled along with the rest of the group who waited out the passing summer storm. Unlike the other laughing couples, trying their best to dry each other off with whatever was available, Cooper and Afton stood silent and dripping, her arms folded protectively across her chest – studiously avoiding each other’s eyes.
It was just like after their kiss at the publisher’s ball last week, was Afton’s bleak thought. The same awkwardness and unease. What was it between them anyway? Sexual attraction for sure, but what else? She stole a quick glance at Cooper’s rigid profile. Yes, he was all kinds of gorgeous, but was she that superficial – that shallow?
As she debated on, the sun made its triumphant reappearance from behind the clouds, the rain miraculously stopping. A loud cheer of relief went up from the crowd, children immediately darting away from their parents to run and splash into the nearest puddle.
‘Here, Afton, you can borrow this.’ One of the young college interns from her department standing nearby loaned Afton the kicky purple vest from her own outfit after seeing her dilemma. She accepted with profuse thanks, slipping it on immediately for needed cover until her shirt finished drying.
‘Hey, Afton, we’re going to have the tug-of-war contest now since we have the biggest mud puddle you’ve ever seen courtesy of the rain,’ Derrick, the jovial tubby sports columnist, came over to tell her. ‘I think we should recruit your date here as our anchor,’ he flashed Cooper a friendly grin. ‘The editors have another pretty tough lineup this year and of course Jason, the frustrated bodybuilder, is their anchor again.’
Afton peeked up at Cooper who seemed puzzled by the request, ‘it’s a tradition at the company picnic – a battle royale between departments,’ she explained. ‘Last year it was a pretty intense match of tug-of-war between the writers at the paper and the editors…’
‘I still say the editors cheated,’ Derrick grumbled, ‘I think Suzie was popping steroids before the picnic last year – it was almost freakish how strong she was for someone so short and spindly!’
Afton snorted at that before going on to detail the much fought-after reward. ‘The winning group gets bragging rights and they get to keep a tacky silver trophy in their conference room until next year’s picnic – the editors have had it in theirs for three years straight and the writers are determined to recapture it this year. You don’t have to if you don’t want to,’ she hastened to add.
‘I would love to help out the writers, after all the paper couldn’t get published without them.’
With those words, Cooper was instantly beloved by the group of writers standing nearby who released a roar of approval and eagerly claimed him as one of their own. The two determined groups made their way to a wide-open area in the grass off the boardwalk where a huge mud puddle now stood awaiting victims. The teams lined up on the rope stretched across the puddle, with six people on each side – Cooper anchoring one end for the writers and Jason on the opposite side for the editors.
‘Afton, you’re the smallest, so you go to the head of the rope,’
The crowd was far off and distracted by the approaching storm, still, anyone who wanted to could have walked over and discovered them at any time – including Jason!
‘Should we make a run for it?’
A remarkably collected Cooper asked the question quietly from beside her, seeming to read the distress written on her face. Even though he appeared outwardly composed, Afton noticed his eyes still simmered a deep indigo-blue.
She nodded her head and he grabbed her hand, racing with her back through the sheets of rain to where the soaked crowd was gathering beneath a large red-and-white striped canopy tent where long metal tables were already set up for the barbecue dinner that would be served later.
They huddled along with the rest of the group who waited out the passing summer storm. Unlike the other laughing couples, trying their best to dry each other off with whatever was available, Cooper and Afton stood silent and dripping, her arms folded protectively across her chest – studiously avoiding each other’s eyes.
It was just like after their kiss at the publisher’s ball last week, was Afton’s bleak thought. The same awkwardness and unease. What was it between them anyway? Sexual attraction for sure, but what else? She stole a quick glance at Cooper’s rigid profile. Yes, he was all kinds of gorgeous, but was she that superficial – that shallow?
As she debated on, the sun made its triumphant reappearance from behind the clouds, the rain miraculously stopping. A loud cheer of relief went up from the crowd, children immediately darting away from their parents to run and splash into the nearest puddle.
‘Here, Afton, you can borrow this.’ One of the young college interns from her department standing nearby loaned Afton the kicky purple vest from her own outfit after seeing her dilemma. She accepted with profuse thanks, slipping it on immediately for needed cover until her shirt finished drying.
‘Hey, Afton, we’re going to have the tug-of-war contest now since we have the biggest mud puddle you’ve ever seen courtesy of the rain,’ Derrick, the jovial tubby sports columnist, came over to tell her. ‘I think we should recruit your date here as our anchor,’ he flashed Cooper a friendly grin. ‘The editors have another pretty tough lineup this year and of course Jason, the frustrated bodybuilder, is their anchor again.’
Afton peeked up at Cooper who seemed puzzled by the request, ‘it’s a tradition at the company picnic – a battle royale between departments,’ she explained. ‘Last year it was a pretty intense match of tug-of-war between the writers at the paper and the editors…’
‘I still say the editors cheated,’ Derrick grumbled, ‘I think Suzie was popping steroids before the picnic last year – it was almost freakish how strong she was for someone so short and spindly!’
Afton snorted at that before going on to detail the much fought-after reward. ‘The winning group gets bragging rights and they get to keep a tacky silver trophy in their conference room until next year’s picnic – the editors have had it in theirs for three years straight and the writers are determined to recapture it this year. You don’t have to if you don’t want to,’ she hastened to add.
‘I would love to help out the writers, after all the paper couldn’t get published without them.’
With those words, Cooper was instantly beloved by the group of writers standing nearby who released a roar of approval and eagerly claimed him as one of their own. The two determined groups made their way to a wide-open area in the grass off the boardwalk where a huge mud puddle now stood awaiting victims. The teams lined up on the rope stretched across the puddle, with six people on each side – Cooper anchoring one end for the writers and Jason on the opposite side for the editors.
‘Afton, you’re the smallest, so you go to the head of the rope,’
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