Two weeks later, everything seemed… normal. Or at least, that’s what Telissa kept telling

herself. Tim had gone back to being the perfect professional — no unnecessary stares, no

accidental brushes of the hand, no private jokes. She should’ve felt relieved. But instead, each

time she glanced through the transparent glass walls of her office and saw him laughing with

other employees — especially her overly-friendly secretary — an unexpected pang twisted in her

chest.

It got worse when she noticed her secretary leaning a little too close to him. Telissa’s fingers

clenched around her pen, the urge to scold the girl bubbling dangerously close to the surface. She

swallowed it down. Professional, Telissa. Professional.

On her way home that evening, she called Katie to vent about work drama. Halfway through the

conversation, she decided to stop by her favorite ShopRite store to grab her comfort of choice —

a bottle of Sweet Kisser wine.

That’s when it happened.

She reached for the last bottle on the shelf… and so did someone else.

A tall, sharply dressed man with an easy confidence in his stance. His hand was warm where it

brushed hers, but his expression carried that amused glint that could irritate and intrigue in equal

measure.

“I believe I got here first,” he said, his voice a deep, smooth baritone that rolled like dark

chocolate.

Telissa raised a brow. “And I believe you’re mistaken.”

They stood there, playfully tugging the bottle back and forth, trading banter that had the nearby

customers sneaking curious glances. Eventually, he let go, his lips curling into a slow, knowing

smile before he walked away without another word.

At the checkout counter, the sales rep grinned. “Oh, by the way, that man paid for your wine.”

“What?”

“Yup. Said it’s on him. Didn’t leave a name.”

Heart skipping, Telissa rushed outside, scanning the parking lot — but he was gone. Just like that.

That night, she told Katie about her mysterious “wine dragger,” swearing she’d get his contact

the next time fate brought him her way. She even went back to the mall twice that week, hoping

to bump into him again. Nothing.

Then, one exhausting week later, she dropped by her favorite restaurant on the Island after a

grueling series of board meetings. She ordered Chinese fried rice and turkey, savoring each bite

— until she looked up… and froze.

It was him.

The man walked over, that same confident smirk on his face. “Wine girl,” he greeted.

“Wine dragger,” she shot back, lips twitching in amusement.

Soon, banters turned to friendly curiosity

They exchanged names — Nate Akindale. Half-Nigerian, Yoruba to the core, but raised in

England. And yes, he carried every bit of the charm and danger she’d heard about Yoruba men.

Nate had the physique, she loves her men dark, fully bearded, and physically fit. Nate had all

these.

Lunch flowed into easy conversation, which melted into dinner without either of them noticing.

By the time she left, her phone held his number, and her mind buzzed with his voice, his smile,

and the way he looked at her like she was the most interesting woman in the room.

That night, while slipping into her nighttime skincare routine, she recounted every detail to Katie

as a teenage girl inlove, completely blurring out everything she felt with Tim. Tim is cute though,

with perfect diastema, half beards, with cute dreamy eyes; she knew all these and still was not

ready to break the company’s policy for her sexual urges.

And though she didn’t say it out loud, she knew she was already looking forward to seeing Nate

again.