“Hmmm. Not bad from behind,” I say.
“Look again,” Marion says.
Hot Guy removes his jacket before turning around and facing the shop.
Holy Jesus.
“Ooohhhh,” I say.
“His sunglasses are hiding his eyes, but I approve of the rest of him,” Virginia says.
Me too. I approve mightily.
“Who are we talking about?” Thandie Blyton asks. She manages the small team that shows up at 3 a.m. on Fridays to get us ready for our busiest day of the week. Since she’s a student at Le Cordon Bleu LA, this works well for her—and for me. She usually sticks around for the first few hours on Fridays because she hates to miss out on the fun.
“Him!” Aline, Marion, Virginia and I say in unison, frantic fingers pointing to the window.
“Christ on a cracker! He’s hot!” Thandie exclaims.
“What’s going on here?” Bronwen O'Hara asks behind us. She works alongside Thandie. I’m not that tall. At five-eleven, Bronwen tours over me and most of the staff.
“Hot guy alert!” Thandie informs her.
It doesn't take long for me to feel Bronwen’s presence behind me.
“Now we’re talking,” Bronwen cheers.
“I thought you were in a relationship,” Virginia points out.
“It ended last weekend,” Bronwen says.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Ron thinks we should see other people. You know, keep the relationship open. I disagreed. End of story.”
“Yikes,” I say. “I'm sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I'm not. Back to Hot Guy!” Bronwen grins.
All six of us are ogling at the gorgeous stranger.
He moves towards the passenger seats and when his back is facing us, it creates a commotion.
“Mon Dieu!” Marion shouts.
Dear God might be the only French I understand because she says it all the time.
“That is one fine ass,” Virginia exclaims.
“Yum!” I say, under my breath. Without his jacket, I can appreciate his assets.
“Oh là là!” Aline repeats.
“You could bounce a coin off that thing,” Bronwen says.
“Yowser! Yowser! Yowser! That’s a five-alarm butt if I’ve ever seen one!” Thandie pipes in.
She's right.
“That’s how jeans are supposed to hang on a man’s butt. You don't need to flash me your boxer shorts. Thank you very much.” The words come out before I catch them.
A chorus of, “Amen” fills the kitchen.
We all observe as Hot Guy opens the back door of his vehicle as if it were the most fascinating thing on earth.
Right now, it is.
“Look! He has a dog!” Thandie says.
“Ooohhh,” six desperate souls coo.
“That’s a white and blue brindle Staffordshire Bull Terrier,” Bronwen points out.
“What’s a brindle?” I frown.
“The patch around the dog's left eye,” Bronwen explains.
“Got it. It looks like a pit bull to me,” I say.
Bronwen shakes her head. “That's their little cousin. I have a slight obsession with the breed at the moment. I'm just not sure if Tania and Tina will go for it.” Those are her two bulldogs.
“Aren't all pit bulls aggressive—little cousins included?” I ask.
“No more than any other dog. It's all in the upbringing,” Bronwen explains further.
“I see,” I say.
“Despite a fierce appearance, the Staffordshire Bull Terrier is a lover, not a fighter,” Bronwen launches into educational mode.
“I bet his owner is a lover, not a fighter,” Virginia says.
We all laugh.
“The Staffordshire Bull Terriers, also known as the Staffie, is a run-never-walk kind of dog. The kind that demands a very active and fit owner,” Bronwen goes on to explain.
“Oh, the owner is extremely fit,” Thandie says. “Hurt me!”
There we go laughing again.
“The Staffie is compact, muscular, and powerful.”
“The last two fit the owner. Compact? Not a chance. That guy has to be at least 6’3 and he's buff… look at that wide chest. Just like I like them,” Virginia says.
“What she said,” I comment.
“The Staffie is a chewer. You should always keep his mouth occupied.” Bronwen keeps going down her list, but I suspect she knows no one here is interested in the dog.
“Oh, I’d find a few ways to keep the owner's mouth occupied.” Thandie had to go there.
I swat her arm.
“What?” she asks. “Can you not see how hot he looks?”
“Perhaps, but no need to objectify him,” I take the high road.
“Sure.” Thandie is unconvinced.
It was a valiant attempt.
“He thrives on vigorous athletic activities,” Bronwen keeps at it.
“I'm all for very vigorous athletic activities,” Aline chimes in.
“A strong will requires a confident owner who can take charge,” Bronwen adds.
“Tie me up or tie me down. Your choice. I'm easy and I'm yours, big guy!” Thandie is on a roll.
Of course, this banter goes on as Hot Guy unstraps his dog from its harness. There’s a little tug of war between owner and dog, but in the end, Hot Guy wins.
When the dog is on the ground, Hot Guy bends down and pets his dog. That gets the dog all excited.
I don't blame him.
“The Staffie has a sensitive side… which means he needs a caring owner.” Bronwen seems unbothered by our comical interjections.
“Aaahhh,” five independent women go all gushy.
“Alas, ladies, I'm about to break your hearts,” Bronwen announces.
“Why?” all five of us ask in unison.
“The Staffordshire Bull Terrier is nicknamed the ‘nanny dog’ because of its reputation as a child's playmate and guardian.”
At Bronwen’s words, my eyes pull back up to the Range Rover and that's when I see the child’s seat. I missed it the first time around because I was so focused on Hot Guy.
There’s a baby mamma part of this equation? Damn.
“Hot Guy is a Hot Dad with a kid, and there’s a woman out there who had sex with him to conceive said child,” Bronwen bursts our bubble.
Lucky bitch.
“Of course, all this could be circumstantial. Maybe he's the sexy uncle babysitting for the day, or the scrumptious straight Manny,” Bronwen offers.
“I wouldn't hold my breath. Perfect endings only happen in romance books. Not in real life. That guy is off the market.”
“Virginia has a good point,” I say.
“I'm afraid she—”
Bronwen doesn’t have time to finish her sentence.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
All six of us jump at Callum's voice.
As if it had been rehearsed a hundred times before, we pivot at the same time to stare at him.
No one says a word.
“Has the Virgin Mary made an apparition this morning? Why are you all staring at the window? What's so interesting?” Callum demands, his dark blue eyes bouncing around the kitchen.