My mouth went dry. Was he flirting or just being friendly? "Um, okay. I bet you often hear jokes about the name."
"Sometimes."
I punched in his account number and clicked the corresponding options on my screen. I ran his checks through the scanning machine and then set them in the correct bin-facing the same direction as the check from Mrs. Caldwell. I handed him the receipt for his deposit. "How did you want that back?" I asked. He glanced down and tapped the counter. "Oh, right, you gave me a list." After I counted out the appropriate amount and zipped it up in his money pouch, I asked, "Is there anything else I can do to-for, do for you?"
I expected a smirk or a facial tick to reveal he'd heard my slip, but he only paused before answering, "No. Thank you." He glanced at my name placard. "Grant, I'm sure I'll see you again. Perhaps the next time you won't need to ask for my license."
Why would he say that? He couldn't know I was checking him out. I'd barely made eye contact. Maybe he was repeating what the previous woman had said. "Perhaps," I replied. "It was nice to meet Mr. Carr of Carr's Automotive."
He grinned again and stuck out his hand. As I went to shake it, I bumped the container of pens, which I'd set next to the window after I'd knocked it over in its previous location, and sent the pens rolling across the counter and through the window onto the floor at his feet. I was so embarrassed. "Oh God. I'm so sorry." I gathered them up and set them in the container I uprighted.
Mr. Carr bent down, retrieved the pens from the floor, reached through my teller window, and put them into my container. Three were upside down, so I took them out and flipped them over. This time he smirked the smirk I was expecting and said, "Until next time." He picked up one of my business cards from the stack next to my name placard and read it. "Grant Adams," he repeated my name. "It was a pleasure to meet you." He pocketed the card and stuck out his hand again. I didn't knock over the pens when I shook it.
His hand was dirty and rough and completely swallowed my tiny palm. "Likewise."
He nodded and walked away, and I glanced at my hands. They felt gritty.
I looked to the next customer and smiled as she stepped up, but I couldn't stop thinking about the feel of his skin touching mine. I rubbed the tip of my nose. My hand had an oddly earthy aroma, which repulsed me almost as much as it intrigued me. I glanced at the unappealing bottle of hand sanitizer and considered it for a second. Which would it be-nauseating alcohol smell that made me sneeze or earthy mechanic smell? The woman set her money and checks on the counter, but I had to excuse myself. "I'm sorry. I need to wash my hands." I took a step backward. "I'll only be a second."
She gave me a questioning look but warily conceded, "Okay."
I dashed to the bathroom, pumped three squirts of foam onto my hands, and lathered thoroughly for twenty seconds. Mr. Carr's hands had appeared greasy, and even though there was no evidence of grease or dirt on mine after he shook it, I still had to wash. I rinsed and dried my hands. I looked down at my open palms, fresh and clean. Sniff. The earthy scent was gone, and for some odd reason, a tiny part of me regretted it. He'd touched me. A man I'd just met had held my hand briefly. I'd introduced myself to countless people before, some of them male, yet Mr. Carr's warmth still lingered inexplicably.
I heard a knock on the door and I jumped. "Grant? How long are you going to be in there?" Lucinda, another teller, asked. I opened the door and she said, "There's a line. I don't want to call Tracy over to help."
Tracy was the bitchy branch manager I'd come to loathe from day one. She was not friendly by any means, but did her job well enough to garner the customers' adoration. Lucinda had been kind enough to warn me about her before I got myself fired over nothing. Tracy was all business, and as long as I did my job to her satisfaction, Lucinda had assured me Tracy would leave me alone. Only I hadn't been here long enough to earn a reputation for excellence. Tracy hadn't worked with me at the other branch, and apparently word of mouth wasn't good enough.
"No," I replied. "I'm coming." I shut the door and returned to my station. The same woman was waiting there. I greeted her with a smile. "Good morning."
"It's 12:10, therefore afternoon," she corrected, handing me her deposit.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Time flies when you're having fun," I joked, hoping she would let my inattention slide.
"Or chatting up a customer," Jessica commented as she walked past me on her way over to the drive-thru window.
I blanched and hoped my customer didn't notice as I entered her account number into the computer. I couldn't believe Jessica would say such a thing with a customer right there. Was this the type of person she was? How was I supposed to make friends with someone who embarrassed me in front of customers?
"That man did look dirty," the customer said, oblivious to Jessica's comment or at least ignoring it. "I don't blame you for washing your hands." She slid her license toward me without a prompt.
"Thank you. Although it's not necessary for a deposit."
She smiled. "I come in here several days a week. You're new, so I wanted to make sure you got familiar with my name … and face. It will make it easier the next time."
"True." I read the name. "Ms. Gina Snyder." I chuckled, finding her name ironic. "I have Snyder's pretzels in my lunch today. I don't suppose you own the pretzel company, do you?" Her deposit was large, but there had to be hundreds of Snyders in the greater tristate area. Snyder's was a Pennsylvania company.
"Mrs.," she stressed. "And not directly, no," she replied, grinning rather mischievously. Her eyes lingered on me, and my face flushed. "I'll see you another day, my dear boy." She winked and turned away.
Two winks in one day. If this was any indication of the type of town Westminster was, I wasn't sure I could handle it. I was used to attention, but this was silly. I wasn't sure I'd last in this branch if every customer flirted with me, although perhaps I was assuming too much. Mr. Carr couldn't possibly have known I was gay, and Mrs. Snyder wouldn't flirt with a guy my age, would she? I was young enough to be her son.
Jessica stepped up behind me and whispered, "Be careful with her. She's a cougar."
I turned around sharply. "What?"
Jessica glanced at the lobby before saying, "She's an aggressive older woman who likes to prey on hot young guys."
There was one person filling out a slip and another waiting to see the manager about opening an account, so I had a minute or two to fuss. I protested, "I'm not hot."
She snorted. "Oh, please. You're hot. I wouldn't normally admit it to your face, but since you're gay, my opinion won't get misconstrued."
"Gay? I'm not … ," I started to protest, but the look she gave me screamed, "Stop before I smack you." I glanced around and whispered, "How did you know?"
She snorted again, louder this time. If she'd been drinking something, it would have come out her nose for sure. "I know this is going to sound awful, but you drip gay. From your pink shirts-"
"Straight guys wear pink," I blurted.
"To your perfect hair-"
"Straight guys comb their hair."
"And your obsession with cleanliness-"
"Straight guys can be clean."
"There isn't a single thing about you I've seen this week to convince me you're straight. Maybe Mrs. Snyder can overlook your less-than-straight qualities because she wants to bag you, but I pegged you from day one. I'm just saying … be careful and stop flirting with the customers."
"I'm not." Besides the fact her assessment of me was offensive, I didn't flirt. Did I?
"Oh, right," she laughed. "Then you better control your blushing, because women like Mrs. Snyder will eat you alive, and guys like Mr. Carr will punch the shit out of you. I saw him at a Papa Joe's once. He got off his motorcycle and walked across the parking lot like he owned the place. It scared the crap out of me. He could be a police officer, or a general of an army. Believe me, you don't want to mess with him."
I couldn't imagine Mr. Carr punching me. He'd seemed very nice. His half smile intrigued me-it made me think of trouble brewing under the surface. He certainly had that bad-boy quality I'd always appreciated from afar. "I don't know what you're talking about. He didn't seem dangerous to me. Besides, I'm not flirting with anyone, and I don't blush easily."