Dreams Collide: Collide Series Book 2 Read online

  His lips turn up as if he can read my mind. He points toward the back of the room. “The bathroom is at the end of the bar and to the right.”

  I look briefly.

  “When you’re finished, the beer garden is out through the double glass doors behind me.” He glances toward the bright sunlight streaming through sparkling glass doors.

  I nod and walk away, feeling his burning gaze follow my every move.

  Is it bad that I like it?

  “It’s very bad!” I say out loud without thinking about it. The bartender stares at me with raised eyebrows while vigorously buffing a wineglass. What is with the excessive polishing here? I scurry to the bathroom like a dog with its tail between its legs.

  Don’t screw this up.

  This job is important to me. Ever since my mom died in a car accident when I was sixteen, I’ve covered her role. I’ve hardly focused on my own needs or goals. Lisa was also in the accident but survived. Nothing was the same after that day. I took care of my devastated dad and grieving fifteen-year-old sister, who had lingering physical and psychological issues. I matured several years overnight. I never had the chance to grieve along with them. My penance for what I’d done.

  After a few years, my dad came to terms with my mom’s death and married Beth, my stepmom. Lisa had a harder time, since she was haunted by her permanent injuries. She had her ups and downs for a while, until a couple of years ago, when she met James. She doesn’t rely on me the way she used to.

  Now, with my dad and sister settled, my priorities have shifted. I took this position to challenge myself and find parts of the old me that might still be in there. It’s my time.

  This bathroom is spotless. It shines like the sun reflecting off a lake. Too bad my sunglasses are broken. Something tells me Gerry Maier is anal when it comes to cleanliness. Oh…I’m not complaining. I’m always afraid to see how dirty a restaurant’s bathroom is.

  I turn on the faucet and pump an excessive amount of soap into my hand. Once they are under the water, they turn into a bubble maker as I talk to myself.

  It’s not only my career. I want to enjoy life and be more impulsive. Before Mom died, I was the adventurous child of the family. My bedroom walls were covered with pictures of foreign countries I wanted to visit, and I dreamed of going to a university in Southern California. I wanted to explore, travel, and let loose. I didn’t want to marry my high school sweetheart and live in the same town I was born in. It’s fine for other people, but not for me.

  Can I ever become that adventurous girl again? Living with Alexa has been a great start. I socialize more now than I did in college and graduate school. It would be fun to find someone who’ll push me even further out of the norm. I can’t expect Alexa to entertain me forever. Either way, I’m not going to sit around and wait.

  I dry my hands and pull away from my thoughts. Remember, this is a business meeting, not two strangers meeting at a bar. It’s not personal. It’s business! When I walk out of the bathroom, I’ll be professional. No more joking around or touching. I imagine myself pivoting on my feet and punching the air like Rocky to pump myself up.

  You’ve got this! It’s your time to shine.

  Chapter 2

  Gerry

  Nein, nein, nein. I shake my head. It can’t be her. But once she took off those sunglasses, I knew her face in an instant. She’s the one I kissed that unforgettable night…the blindfolded kiss.

  Little did she know, I watched her during my cousin’s frat party that evening before I was asked to play the game. She wore the same color of purple as she’s wearing now. Eggplant. Leave it to me to compare the color to food. Ever since then, I’ve had a secret purple fetish. Every time I see it, my heart tightens.

  Though I never spoke to her, I memorized every curve of her face and how she felt against me. There’s been no other woman comparable.

  She’s even more breathtaking now. Her skin is just as creamy, and her glossy, plump lips still beckon me to kiss them. I clearly remember the tiny, sexy beauty mark above the top left corner of her upper lip. Is she just a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep?

  I never introduced myself to her or finished the game because I had to fly back to Europe the next day. My future career depended on it.

  Even though I left her, that night wasn’t a total failure. While being blindfolded, my other senses had increased. How she tasted, smelled, felt against my body, was amplified hundredfold. That experience sparked an idea which led me to become one of the youngest and most successful chefs in Germany and France. Until a year ago.

  My eyes gaze at her curvy backside as she glides along the bar. I know it’s inappropriate, but she’s too hard to resist. This is not the type of business meeting I planned. I rub my face with my hand and head over to the beer garden.

  The table sits under an old chestnut tree. I place her bag on one of the benches. This tree reminds me of home. It’s a bit of a mess now since it’s autumn and the massive chestnuts are falling, but the golden leaves make up for it. With the way I run my restaurant, the chestnuts and leaves are cleaned up regularly throughout the day. I don’t need any lawsuits. The fallen chestnuts are then used as table decorations.

  This restaurant was originally German, but it was old and run down. The beer garden was dilapidated, with old, plastic white tables and chairs. It looked cheap. Most good beer gardens in Germany have shiny wooden tables and benches. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to turn this place into something new but still traditional.

  A scraping sound on the path behind me catches my attention. Just as I turn, Tina stumbles.

  “Oh!” she exclaims. “Today is not my day. Now it seems I don’t know how to walk on cobblestone.” She wobbles as she takes her time walking forward.

  I quickly walk toward her. “Here. Let me help you.” I take her hand again before she can respond. She stops moving but doesn’t protest. Instead, she bends over and takes off her shoes with her free hand. That’s three times I’ve touched her today. Every time our skin touches…confirms it’s her. My body’s naturally drawn to hers.

  I try hard to act normal. This is a business meeting. Mixing business with pleasure is strictly against my rules, but working closely with her could be a game changer.

  When we reach the table, she pulls her hand from mine. “That’s much better. Sorry about all this. I must appear so unprofessional to you,” she remarks as she stoops to slide her shoes back on.

  “Our meeting is definitely unusual.” I motion for her to sit down.

  She smiles. “It’s so nice out here.” She removes a folder and pen from her computer bag.

  A server approaches with a basket of fresh-baked soft pretzels and places it on the table.

  “Thanks, Peter.”

  “Would either of you like a drink?” he says as his eyes dart from me to Tina.

  “Yes. I’d like seltzer water with a lemon, please.” She folds her hands on the table.

  “Why don’t you try one of the German beers we have on tap? I think you need it after the problem with your sunglasses. Come on—be daring.”

  Her eyes spring open.

  “It’s only ten thirty in the morning. I don’t drink alcohol this early, especially during a business meeting.”

  I sense a tone of disapproval. Ouch.

  “Well, Germans drink beer at any time of the day. When you walk down a street and pass a café, you’ll see older men drinking beer or wine with their buddies and playing chess.”

  “We’re far from old buddies and aren’t in Germany, Gerry.” She places her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry. Is it all right if I call you Gerry, or would you prefer Mr. Maier?”

  I look down at her hand. She pulls it away and mouths Sorry. I wish she’d keep it there.

  “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that, Miss or Mrs. Schmitt?”

  Her shoulders relax. “At this point, you can call me whatever you want. Just not matey. But I think we’re past the formality of Mr. or Miss.”
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  She said miss. Not married but still, hands off.

  “About our drinks. How about this—there’s a great beer called Weißbeer, wheat beer in English. We have it alcohol-free too. It’s actually healthy without the alcohol. It’s great on a warm day. Try it, bitte. Sorry. I mean please.”

  She points her finger at me while smiling. “Do you promise it’s alcohol-free?”

  I glance at Peter. “Please promise Tina you’ll give her the alcohol-free version.”

  He laughs as he holds his hand up. “I promise.”

  She perks up. “All righty then. I love to try new things. Why not now?”

  I hold up two fingers. “Peter, make it two please. This is a business meeting, after all.” I wink at her.

  “No problem. I’ll be back in a few minutes. The pretzels are fresh out of the oven. Enjoy.” He turns and walks away.

  I place the basket in front of her with a little dish of herb butter. “Please take one. I promise they’re delicious.”

  “They look tempting. I haven’t eaten this morning, and I don’t need to be more embarrassed with my stomach barking. It smelled so good when I arrived here looking like a pirate.” She laughs at herself.

  “I like to serve our customers good traditional German food.” Not the modern shit I used to cook. “You can’t visit any part of Germany without having a soft pretzel, or Laugenbrezel in German.”

  She takes one and rips off a piece. “My manager, Thomas, raved about German pretzels yesterday.”

  I point at the butter. “Try it with this butter. We make it here too.”

  She spreads on a generous amount and takes a bite. Her eyes close. I hope in delight. Her large doe eyes open and lock on mine. Just now I see her eye color more clearly. I remember them being brown but I’ve never seen her eyes this close before. They’re a rich brown with a hint of red. Like cinnamon sticks. Lovely and hypnotizing.

  She interrupts my fascination. “Oh. So yummy. By far better than any city pretzel. I might have to question bagels too. These are probably great with spicy mustard. I can understand what my manager was talking about. Maybe I’ll buy a few and take them back to the office for him.” She pulls off another piece.

  “You don’t need to pay for them. I’ll give you a bag to take back to the office. Well, if this meeting goes well.”

  She squints at me but can’t respond, because her mouth is full.

  Peter places our drinks on the table and then leaves.

  She covers her mouth with her hand. “This isn’t a glass. It’s a mug. Thank God it’s nonalcoholic.” She wipes the corner of her mouth then lifts the mug to her lips.

  I put my hand up. “Not so fast.”

  She stops in surprise.

  “Another thing to learn. Before you take the first sip, tap the bottom of your mug with mine while keeping eye contact. Then you say, prost.”

  She taps mine and says, “Prost.”

  I wag my finger at her. “You forgot to look at me when you tapped my glass. Play by the rules,” I tease. “It’s seven years of bad luck in the bedroom if you don’t make eye contact.” That was so out of line!

  Her face flushes, and she pulls the purple gemmed flower pendant on her silver necklace from side to side. “Well, I sure don’t want that.” She chuckles.

  We try it again while our eyes lock longer than they should.

  “Now drink.” I watch her mouth and then her throat movements as the beer washes down. I look away and swallow in response. I take a couple large swigs of mine.

  She nods with a smile I already love. “Mmm. That’s refreshing, tasty, and thick. I’m assuming prost means cheers.”

  “Yes, but remember to keep eye contact when you say it. It’s something Americans don’t often do. It’d be a waste to not look into your pretty eyes.”

  “I never really thought about it. Thanks for the lesson,” she says casually.

  She takes another long drink and looks around the beer garden. “This is a great place to have a drink on a warm night. I love the white lights strung from this tree to each corner of the garden. It must look lovely at night. There’s a generous amount of space for a lot of customers. I’m assuming it’s not open during the winter.”

  She turns back to the table, and I swallow back my laugh.

  She plays with her hair and straightens her back. “What’s the matter now? Why are you smirking?”

  I lean over the table and gently wipe the beer foam from her upper lip with my thumb.

  She stiffens in response.

  “You have a beer mustache.”

  She instantly wipes her upper lip as I lick the foam off my thumb. Her eyes follow every movement and freeze on my lips. She quickly looks away and plays with her necklace again. A nervous tic?

  “What else can I do to embarrass myself? I started this job a couple of months ago. My manager wouldn’t be so thrilled with me right now. To top things off, we haven’t even discussed your ideas for your new website. He didn’t give me any information yesterday. I think I’ll need a dozen pretzels before I leave. And maybe another beer, but with alcohol this time,” she mumbles.

  “Please don’t be embarrassed or stressed about this meeting.” I know what true embarrassment feels like. “I wish all business meetings were this entertaining. We need to get to know each other before we work together.” I put my hand on hers. “Don’t you agree?” Stop touching her, Gerry.

  She looks at my hand and crinkles her forehead. I pull away and stand up quickly, almost knocking over the bench. “I forgot to bring my folder outside. Let me go get it so I can show you my notes.”

  Her face softens. “Thank you. Let’s get to it.”

  Chapter 3

  Tina

  I smack Alexa’s arm and almost fall off the back of the treadmill. “Stop laughing at me!” I demand between giggles as I stabilize myself.

  “That’s the funniest story I’ve ever heard. My little pirate. I wish I could’ve seen it. Did you have a parrot on your shoulder? Or in our location, a pigeon.” She dabs her eyes with her hand towel.

  I push a strand of hair away from my face. “It was so mortifying, but at least I can laugh at myself.”

  She leans over to me. “Check out the guy on the stepper with the huge lamb chops and the sweatband on his head. Does he think he’s sexy?”

  I try not to laugh. “Be nice. We’re here to work out, even if we’re barely breaking a sweat or out of breath.”

  “We’re moving, and that’s all that matters. Okay. All seriousness now. You said Gerry’s hot. Give me the scoop on him,” she says as her eyes trail one of the trainers behind us in the mirror.

  Our eyes finally meet, so I at least know she’s focusing on me now. “First of all, he has a buzz cut, and his hair is receding from his forehead. The little bit I saw looked like dark brown. It might not sound sexy, but it made him look bitable.” I take a sip of water.

  Her face lights up, and she blurts, “Like Mr. Clean? Isn’t he big and bald like a pirate?”

  I choke on my water and lose my balance. I grip the handlebars and leap to the sides of the treadmill, just avoiding rolling off the back. Alexa braces herself on her machine too.

  The trainer behind us walks up to me. “Are you okay, miss? Should I show you how the treadmill works?”

  Funny. He’s not looking at me. His eyes are frozen on Alexa.

  “No, thanks. I’m okay,” I say loudly so he acknowledges me. She dazzles men with her silky, long blond hair and bright-green eyes. Little do they know she’s a genius hidden behind her beauty.

  He glances at me as if I’m an afterthought. “Maybe I can show you how to use some of the other machines after you’re finished with the treadmill?” His eyes shoot back to Alexa. “Or new ways to stretch after your workout.”

  Are you kidding me?

  Going to the gym sucks. Not just because it’s a meat market, but the sweaty smell. I turn away and resume walking. This is such a waste of my time.

  “
Maybe,” she says as she trails her fingertip along her jawline.

  He winks and struts away.

  “Hey, what’s your name?” she calls after him.

  He turns around. “Tony.”

  She grins, then faces the mirror.

  “You’re crazy. We aren’t stretching with him. Well, I’m not anyway,” I mumble.

  “He’s kinda cute.”

  “Yeah…if you’re into muscle heads. He can’t even put his arms down.”

  Maybe I said that too loud, because he turns around and stares at us in the mirror. Alexa waves at him.

  “Come on. Let’s increase the speed.” I push the button several times.

  Alexa equalizes her speed with mine. “Let’s get back to Mr. Clean.” She swings her arms back and forth.

  “Can I please talk without you dragging Mr. Clean into this conversation?” I point my thumb at myself. “I was the one who looked like a stupid pirate.” I chuckle again. “How am I going to face him the next time I see him? I’ll think of Mr. Clean when he stands in front of me.”

  “He better not have a conehead.”

  I howl in laughter. An older woman a few treadmills over gives me a dirty look, then steps off and walks away.

  “You’re going to get us in trouble. I’m going to pee in my pants if you don’t stop. I haven’t laughed so much in one day. Finally, I’m out of breath.” I stop talking for a second to catch a breather. “He doesn’t have a conehead. The shape of his head is perfect. He has peach fuzz. I was dying to touch it.”

  “I’m sure you were, among other things,” she says.

  I crinkle my face at her. “Anyway, did I say he had scruff? He was dressed casual and was so laid back. He’s at least six inches taller than me, with very broad shoulders. I tried not to look at his body, but I gave in. He’s bulky, like a big bear or bodyguard.”

  “Like The Rock?” she exclaims.

  “No. Again, he isn’t bald! What’s with you and bald guys? I think you have a secret fetish.”

  She sticks her nose in the air with an impish smile.