Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
He strides out of the room with the air of a mafia don who’s just given his new capo one chance not to wind up dismembered in a dog’s dinner bowl.
Ida blinks and laughs awkwardly. “You certainly bring out quite the reaction in our fearless leader.”
“So, he’s not always like that?”
She twists her lips. “He’s a hard worker and doesn’t tolerate much foolery, but he’s not usually such a jacka—bad guy, I mean. Not usually.”
Awesome.
So I get to be the magnet for his lightning storm of assholery.
Why? All because I got to the freaking coffee shop before him and swiped the last cinnamon roll?
What a psycho.
A psycho who’s willing to pay me almost six figures to work for him, but still...
Just what will this job cost me if Lincoln Burns stays obsessed with making my life suck?
“Good Lord, I think I’m high on the fumes alone,” I say, pushing into Eliza’s apartment.
Her laughter echoes off the low ceiling. “Do you want coffee?”
“Do you have more of that sexy vanilla?”
She shakes her head. “I brewed up a hazelnut cinnamon blend, a coconut, and chocolate pecan today. What’s your poison?”
“Chocolate pecan.”
“Good choice. There’s a vanilla scone with your name on it, though.”
“When are you opening a cafe?” I demand, giving her a mock-stern look with my hands propped on my hips.
“As soon as I have the money sometime this century. Commercial rent in this city ain’t getting any cheaper.” Eliza heads for her kitchen coffee lab to start prepping “the caffeinated flight” as she calls it.
She’s basically my dealer at this point, besides being my bestie and neighbor.
I take a stool in front of the kitchen bar, basking in the heavenly smell of her place.
She returns a minute later with two steaming mugs and scones piled high on a plate.
“How was the big interview?” she asks. “Tell me we have something to celebrate.”
“Bonkers, honestly, but—” Big pause. “I got the job.”
“Yes!” She puts her mug down to throw both fists in the air and then hugs me. “I knew you’d pull it off. When you said bonkers, you must mean the awesome kind.”
“Well...” I clear my throat and take a comically long sip of coffee.
“Uh-oh. Don’t tell me it’s a traveling job or something. Dakota, if you’re leaving me, I’ll lose it.”
“No, nothing like that,” I say with a sigh. I wish it was that simple because at least it’d be a relatable, human problem. Not whatever this thing is with a charging bull who buys cinnamon rolls by the bucketful. “Okay, so you remember the crazy who tried to buy my Regis roll for five hundred smackeroos a few days ago?”
“Yeah?” She blinks at me.
“I saw him at the coffee shop again this morning, and he remembered me. He decided to be an even bigger swinging dick. Before I could even flip him off, he stepped up and bought four dozen Regis rolls to make sure I didn’t get a single one.”
She stares at me in disbelief.
“Talk about issues! But that means the cray cray happened before the interview then. That’s good news, I bet?”
“Um...” I hesitate. “That wasn’t the biggest drama.”
“Dakota,” she presses, setting her cup down and rubbing her weary eyes. “Look at me. I spend at least twelve hours a day every day smelling like a human coffee bean and baking my butt off. My knees haven’t taken me on a walk farther than a block for a week. When you have drama and you hold back—no. Girl, you dish it right now.”
I’m laughing and sympathetic as she takes an annoyed slurp of coffee.
“Fine. He’s the frigging CEO, and he was on the interview panel.”
I’m hit by a sudden warm mist on my arm. Courtesy of Eliza, laughing so hard she spews coffee everywhere.
“Get out! Sorry.” She looks down, grabs a rag, and starts wiping up her mess while she says, “So how did that go?”
“About like you’d expect. He kept making unfunny dad jokes about my last name and my interest in joining his lowly copywriter team. He even mocked my poetry scholarship. Sorry, but not all of us were born with a silver spoon in our mouths. Some of us had to work.”
“This weirdo owns Haughty But Nice? The whole shebang?” Eliza asks.
I nod.
“Unfortunately.”
“They own a lot of lines. Do you know what you’ll be writing for?”
I don’t want to say it, much less do it. But I kinda have to, so I should just make my peace with it and move on.
“Dakota, hey...you look like you’re sucking on a lemon and I know it’s not my food. My stuff never sucks.” She laughs.
“They want me on their new luxury line. A wedding campaign. Lucky me.”
Her face falls. A moment passes in dead silence.
“Oh. Oh, jeez. Can you...can you do that?” Eliza asks softly.
I roll my shoulders in something resembling a shrug.