Fuck me.
For several heady seconds, I can抰 yank my eyes off her. My fingers drum against my desk, wondering if I should impose a new dress code, because there抯 nothing inappropriate about this outfit.
Fuck, Linc. Get it together.
揧ou summoned me??She says it too obediently. I half expect her to add Master to the end.
Then I catch the cactus-like look in her eye and realize it抯 all sarcasm.
Damn this insufferable woman.
Damn her lips, too, so full and so sweet it抯 a crying damn shame they抮e also full of it.
I never noticed her pout before. Maybe it抯 just the siren-red lipstick accenting her look today, but hell.
Her eyes, man.
Focus on her eyes. Prove you抮e a man in control of his faculties and not a gibbering orangutan, I growl inwardly.
揝it down,?I say, motioning to the seat in front of my desk.
She nods, trots in, and sits down before she holds up a notepad and puts a pen to it. 揇o you have corrections to go over??
Good. She抯 ready to work rather than waste our time trading insults.
I can respect that. Professional, businesslike, blunt.
I never would抳e guessed she had it in her, but I抦 open to seeing another side of her. Too bad we have a very unprofessional subject to bat around.
I shake my head.
揧our copy is clean enough to eat. That抯 not what I wanted to discuss,?I tell her, leaning back in my chair.
She lowers the notepad and pen, her eyes wider and more suspicious.
揙h??
揂 lot went down between the two of us before your interview.?I pause, clearing my throat. 揑 can certainly appreciate your talent and your backbone, Miss Poe. What I can抰 appreciate is ignoring the pissed off elephant in the room, that day you decided to make off with my Regis roll棓
揧ou mean when you were harassing me over a flipping cinnamon roll??she spits, her eyes flashing.
Ah, there抯 my hellcat, and she抯 all claws today.
I glare at her like the sucker for punishment I am.
揂ctually, I meant you being too selfish to part with your precious cargo even for five hundred dollars.?Her mouth opens and I hold up a hand. 揕isten, it doesn抰 matter. I抦 not here to re-litigate two regrettable battles at Sweeter Grind. I抦 offering you a truce so we can work together like two gears in the well-oiled machine that is this company.?
She narrows her eyes, obvious acid on the tip of her tongue.
揥hy? If I抦 producing clean copy and doing my job, why wouldn抰 we get along? Professionally, I mean. You can see I do my job, regardless of any past brain-dead debacles.?
I pause, shooting her an assessing look.
揗aybe so. However, I still feel we should spell it out so it抯 an easy working relationship.?I hate how she practically glows with the morning light spilling in. 揑抣l also feel better if you抣l accept certain changes to benefit your work here in the interests of minimizing the potential for future conflict.?
揅hanges??she echoes, biting her lip. 揂nd what conflict? God, you can抰 mean pastries again…？
My lips twitch, trying to pull up a smile.
Because the fact that I do probably deepens her portrait of me as textbook psycho.
揊or one, you can quit biking to work. We抣l share the same ride in my town car and place our coffee order bright and early every morning, well before the cafe has a chance to run out of anything.?
She stares at me, incredulous.
揤ery funny… You are joking, right??
揑抦 doing you a favor. Pastry business aside, I thought you抎 appreciate a ride, rather than facing the elements on your棓
揇ude. I happen to like biking to work, thank you very much. And you can抰 just order me to take a different means of transportation into work. You don抰 own me when I抦 off the clock, Mr. Burns, and just梬hat is your obsession with the freaking cinnamon rolls? Do you have a pathological addiction to cinnamon or something??
Adorable.
She抯 strangely alluring when she抯 red-faced and staring at me in disbelief, her breath coming faster, giving her body this extra pulse that抯 a delicious hell on my eyes.
Also, it抯 none of her damn business what I need the cinnamon rolls for. If they were purely for me or the office crew, I抎 say so. It抯 not my place to go around telling Wyatt抯 tragic life story, though.
So all I can say is, 揝ure.?
揌uh??She blinks at me, clearly caught off guard.
揑抦 not just an addict, but a pusher,?I tell her with a shrug and deadpan delivery. 揑t抯 an awful habit I developed in my college days. It happens. Now when I log off as CEO of a multibillion-dollar company, I spend my nights on the streets, cutting up cinnamon rolls and dealing bagged up bites to anyone who wants a hit.?
揙kay. Now you抮e definitely joking unless you抮e completely棓
揑nsane? Try me, Nevermore. Why the hell else would I offer five hundred bucks for a cinnamon roll??I fold my arms, glaring until it抯 almost uncomfortable.
Lame story, but my delivery makes her wonder if it抯 true for at least a few seconds. More importantly, it diverts her from the real reason.
It抯 not like I抦 trying to keep the man who saved my life alive or anything.
揧our sarcasm sucks,?she mutters quietly, heaving out a sigh. 揑 hope you抳e got Anna or someone from marketing critiquing my writing. I抦 not sure you抎 know a good story if it whacked you across the face.?
揂sk stupid questions, get stupid answers,?I say matter-of-factly.
揑t wasn抰 a stupid question. It was a fair one. You抮e legit crazy about cinnamon rolls. It抯 just…weird.?Her voice goes up on that last word before she throws out a hand. 揧ou know what? Fine. Keep it a big dark secret. I honestly don抰 want to know.?
Miss Poe stares at me like she抯 trying to decide if I just stepped out of one of her ancestor抯 short stories.
Say something, idiot. You don抰 need to scare her.
True enough. She writes clean copy, and I don抰 want her to walk out of here so rattled she quits on the spot. Especially since Lucy told me this morning that she抯 starting to have contractions.
揧ou have to admit, the Regis rolls are worth a princely sum.?
揧eah梩hey抮e good. Just not psycho-stalker good.?She looks at me, her green eyes glittering and her lips twisting before they purse up in a duck face. ?can I tell you what it looks like to the rest of the world? Assuming you even care, anyway.?
揑s there any way I抎 stop you??I throw back.
She ignores that. 揑 don抰 think your mantrum棓
揗antrum??
揗an tantrum棓
揌ardly, Nevermore. Also, that抯 a pretty sexist remark and sexism doesn抰 belong in this workplace. My mother would storm the place like a mad hornet if I let that shit fly,?I grumble.
揘evermore??For a second, she looks at me, too stunned to speak.
I should apologize. Juvenile nicknames aren抰 exactly becoming around here either.
I should.
Only, I don抰 want to, especially when the name suits her.
揕ook, Mr. High and Mighty, I didn抰 want to start my first real morning here debating office power dynamics. I抦 pretty sure you抎 lose. May I continue??She ignores the hot glare I level on her and barrels onward without waiting for an answer. 揟he rest of the world thinks your mantrum over the cinnamon roll happened because you抮e an entitled prick. You抮e so used to being handed everything you want that you couldn抰 handle not being able to get your hands on your morning sugar fix, so you freaked.?
I glare at her as she continues.
揟hen, when I wouldn抰 immediately cave and relinquish it for what抯 probably pocket change to you, it bruised your fragile little ego so much that you just had to clobber me the second time with the only thing that matters to you. The only thing that makes you think you抮e better. Money.?