揇akota棓
She smiles. 揗iss Poe.?
I bite my tongue, wondering how the hell I could slip.
揗iss Poe棓 I correct sharply, but she cuts me off.
揂nother time, Mr. Burns. Working.?
揜egardless, I抦 sorry. Sincerely. I didn抰 mean to give you an interrogation in front of your colleagues,?I say sternly.
She won抰 even look at me, her fingers clicking on the keyboard.
搾Kay. Look, unless you need to talk about the assignment棓
揑 spoke out of turn. I know I made it way too personal, and I抦 sorry. It won抰 happen again. I can be dense with my bedside manner sometimes棓
揧ep, and there wasn抰 even a cinnamon roll involved today. Imagine that!?she says with a muted glare.
Will she ever let me fucking finish?
揑抦 a professional. I抦 your boss, and I know you抮e not here for my personal entertainment.?
If you weren抰 so damn beautiful, maybe my tongue wouldn抰 get so loose, I think darkly.
This girl obliterates my better senses like no one else.
揟o show you I抦 sincere, I抣l take Sweeter Grind duty next week to make it up to you,?I say slowly. 揌ow does that sound??
揥ell, there抯 nothing to make up for, but whatevs. Knock yourself out, boss.?
Her fingers pound the keyboard, drumming this conversation into silence.
Whatever is right.
Even when I try to get along with this moody creature, she freezes me out.
As I turn and stomp away from her desk, I wonder if Ma抯 concerns aren抰 valid.
Should I have let this raven into my home?
Is my gamble on her about to win me a hostile work environment?
After work, I sit in my living room, reviewing the latest drafts from the ad team and muttering at everything.
It抯 bland. Droll. Missing heart.
Everything except the ream of concepts with a name attached that won抰 stop rapping, rapping at my skull.
Dakota Poe抯 copy is undeniably on-point. Hell, I can even tell it抯 her advising in a few mockups where her name isn抰 directly attached.
Her concepts are funny, well written, and friendly, if a tad impersonal.
My only suggestion梐 real one this time梬ould be to make the writing more intimate. Still, it抯 nice working to improve the meat on what抯 already impeccable bones.
I抦 tempted to text her and pay her an honest compliment.
Though after the way she ran out of the meeting today and the showdown after, I抎 wager that抯 inviting trouble.
She抯 not the sort of girl who gets bent out of shape over an asshole comment or a flippant one-off.
I grit my teeth.
All because I抦 realizing, slowly but surely, that I抳e been a colossal dick to her梐nd by some freak stroke of black magic, she makes me feel guilty for that.
I pull out the earlier drafts and flip through her previous work. I come across the picture of the runaway groom and frown.
It was a half-baked concept to start with, but Dakota抯 feedback attached to the image catches my attention.
Yeah, we might want to leave this one somewhere in 1999. Nothing attracts a modern girl to a wedding line like chasing down some loser who doesn抰 really want to marry her. What if we sell a runaway bride instead? Turn the tables. That抯 a little more interesting.
Her interview pops into my head. When Anna mentioned she抎 be working on the wedding line, she went stiff as a board.
Call me a sucker for punishment.
I pick up my phone and fire off a text. Not a fan of men who skip out on their own weddings, huh?
I go back to reading and my phone dings sooner than expected.
We抮e not friends. It抯 after work hours. Why are you texting me?
My pulse slows. Another pang of that damnable guilt.
Answer the question, I demand, punching Send. I add, Please. I抦 simply pinpointing where the original concept went wrong.
It抯 insane what she does to me, even when she抯 not in the same room.
I don抰 think I抳e ever glared at those three swirling dots on the screen as she types. Her message arrives a few seconds later.
I mean, who *would* be thrilled to have a man leaving the altar? Why even propose to a woman if you抮e not going to see it through? Better yet, with the time and expense that goes into getting married, how do you make it to the wedding day without knowing you don抰 want this? Isn抰 it kinda obvious?
There.
I抳e pissed her off again.
Texting probably won抰 solve anything, so I call her instead.
I抦 half expecting her to ignore me and let it go to voicemail, but she answers on the first ring.
揅an I help you??
揟ell me one thing. Am I saying stupid shit again??
I hear a muffled gasp.
揟he only stupid shit is my boss calling me at eleven o抍lock on a Friday night. Kind of ridiculous if you ask me, but hey, no one did.?
揗y bad. I didn抰 realize it was so late or that you had plans, Miss Poe. I抳e been going over drafts and lost track of time. Listen, if there抯 something I need to know about your work on the wedding campaign棓
揑s there a problem with my work??she asks, venom in her voice.
揘ot at all. Your writing is fresh and the concepts are the sort of ass-kicking we抳e needed for a while. Still, I抦 confused by the way you stormed out of the meeting today. I know I was harsh and I apologized for that. It occurred to me the wedding line might be too much if there抯 some personal reason behind your aversion. Listen, if there抯 another line you抎 rather work on, I can make that happen. I can棓
揑抦 sorry,?she interjects, soft but firm.
I wasn抰 expecting that.
揑桰 was supposed to be married about a year ago. It didn抰 end well. End of story. Life goes on. I抣l get over it.?She pauses, drawing in a long breath before adding, 揑抦 already over it. Seriously. If the ring was worth anything, I would抳e sold it and taken a writing class.?
You抮e not over a damn thing, I think to myself. The way you fled earlier today and reacted to my dumb ass tells the truth.
Even worse, I know that reaction.
It抯 been years and it still doesn抰 take much to bring back Regina, and finding her in bed with that pathetic, underhanded little fuck?揗r. Burns??she asks softly.
揑抦 still here.?
At least now I understand why she was so upset when I pointed out her missing ring like the goddamned lumbering bear I am.
揑 appreciate your honesty and the additional context. Again, I regret saying what I did today. Love may be the trickiest business of all,?I tell her.
There抯 a long pause before she says, 揙h, really? Is that why your mom was asking all the old ladies in the office if they had a daughter or niece they could set her son up with? She made it loud and clear she wants grandkids and her boy can抰 seem to get the job done.?
I rock back in my chair, gritting my teeth.
What I wouldn抰 give if I could get Ma to jet off to Maui, the Turks, or the Maldives like an ordinary retired woman in her sixties with all the money in the world to burn.
Anything to keep her and her big matchmaking mouth the fuck out of my office. You抎 think that after the hell I went through, she might just accept my permanent bachelorhood.
揃urns? You still there or did Smithers tuck you in for the night??
I bite back a smile. 揊or such a sharp writer and someone tired of Poe jokes, I expected better. You抮e only the ten thousandth person to make a Simpsons crack with the name. Congratulations, I suppose.?
揑f the glove fits…？she shrugs with her voice. 揧ou have to admit, you kinda fit the bill. You抮e single, loaded, and you like to throw your weight around. You抳e even got one up over the old cartoon gazillionaire in the looks depar棓