Perish the thought.
I can抰 bring myself to apologize. I just glare, my already low empathy tank has no fumes to spare.
揟his is where we met,?she prattles on, oblivious to my death stare. 揙ur friend is coming to officiate. You just crashed my wedding…？
Oh, hell. For all that抯 holy, Jay abandoned me for this kind of utter bullshit. I have exactly zero patience for it.
揥elcome to the club. If it makes you feel better, someone ruined my wedding, too. But if your guy抯 still here and ready to put a ring on it, I抎 hardly call that ruined.?I抦 still holding the crushed cup and I give it another loud crunch in my palm.
Then I move to the trash can in front of Sweeter Grind and toss it.
揧ou deserved it, bitch! Karma!?she shouts after me.
I don抰 look back because I have a bigger problem now. I raise the half-attached lid on the box of Regis rolls and groan.
They抮e spattered in coffee and half their icing was ripped off in the fall. I toss them too and go back into the coffee shop.
There抯 no chance I抣l be on time today. I dare Burns to raise hell about it.
揘evermore??The guy behind the counter looks up. 揧ou抮e back and covered in coffee? Tell you what, the new drink is on the house. Nasty spill out there.?
I wave my hand. 揇on抰 worry about it. It抯 a company expense, but I need the same order again…？
揥ill do.?
This time, when I walk out of Sweeter Grind with my new goods, guitar dude and his panicked lady are standing in front of a guy lecturing them about the evils of 5G wireless signals and trying to sell them what looks like a tinfoil 'shield' stretched over cardboard.
Only in Seattle. I roll my eyes and hop on my bike.
When I get to work, Burns stands outside of his office with his arms crossed like a pissed off teacher waiting for the last straggler from recess to show up.
With a sigh I don抰 even hide, I walk up to him and shove the loot into his arms.
He snatches the cup out of my hand, sloshing me with a few beads of piping hot coffee for the second time today.
揝orry about that.?Before I can respond, though, he snaps, 揅ome on in. We need to talk.?
What the frick now?
I follow him into his office, glaring at the box of Regis rolls as they land on his desk.
He slams the door behind me and waits for me to sit, silent as the grave.
Cool. What crawled up his butt this time?
My phone goes off.
揑s that important??He falls into his office chair, pointing.
揑 wouldn抰 think so. You抮e here.?I shrug. 揑 guess it could be my mom.?
Somehow, I don抰 think I抦 that lucky. Jay probably found a dummy number by now to keep blowing up my messages.
He nods.
揗iss Poe, I抣l be blunt. You sent me the most unprofessional, inappropriate, frankly crazy fucking email I抳e ever received in my whole career.?
I blink, totally dumbfounded by what he means.
揇on抰 even try. We both know you抮e a depressingly bad liar.?He crosses his arms again, leans back in his chair, and tilts his head up, spearing me with those stern earthy eyes. 揂re you going to pretend you don抰 know??
揇on抰 know what??I抦 about to lose my shit. I抦 so not in the mood for guessing games today. 揑抳e done everything you抳e ever asked me to, including working two full-time jobs. I get your coffee, your stupid rolls梬hich I had to buy twice today because the first batch spilled梱ou抮e welcome. I always reply to your messages promptly even when I抦 not on the clock.?
I run out of breath, giving him the opening he needs.
揂nd you think that justifies the bullshit you pulled Saturday??he growls.
What did I pull on Saturday?
揧ou抣l have to be more specific. With the workload you抳e belted me with, I抦 running on four hours of sleep most days.?And dealing with ridiculous messages from my loser ex. 揊rom what I recall, I spent most of the day writing copy for an ungrateful boss.?
揅ute. You expect me to believe that抯 all you were writing??
揌uh??
揧ou weren抰 writing copy, were you??
What the hell? Was he spying on me somehow when I spent five minutes working on poetry?
揥e抳e been through this. You do not own me. What I do away from here or on my breaks is none of your concern.?
揑t is when it抯 wildly inappropriate and you send it to me attached to an ordinary work email,?he snarls back.
Seriously, what is he talking about?
I cock my head, giving him a look that warns I抦 a stick of dynamite with a fuse getting dangerously short.
揗r. Burns桳incoln梩his would be way easier if you抎 just tell me what the hell you抮e talking about. I have no earthly clue. And if you think I抦 lying, forget the ninety days. I抣l walk right out this door without waiting for a pink slip.?
His eyes soften as he uncrosses his arms and wheels his chair closer to his desk. He lays his arms on the sleek wood and leans forward.
揂 lesson she never learns. And so she burns,?he says darkly.
Wait. What?
I thought he didn抰 like poetry? Hearing this man quoting anything literary sounds obscene. Certainly NSFW in that angry smolder he calls a voice.
The words coming out of his mouth are filthy, too, making me blush.
They抮e also梖amiliar? Startlingly familiar.
But before he even speaks, my heart forgets how to beat.
揃urns who? Burns what? Burns me,?he quotes slowly. Lethally. 揃ut he抯 her king. Her fling. Her boss. Her loss.?
Screaming.
Inwardly, I抦 flipping screaming my insides out.
My throat closes. I grasp the sides of my chair so I don抰 fall out of it. The blood rushes away from my head.
For a split second, I think I might pass out. Thank God I抦 already sitting.
Deep breath.
I think about the other lines, too shameful to even dwell on.
So they fall down in bed.
With every thrust the darkness falls away.
With every thrust.
Oh, God.
He抯 read it all and he抯 disgusted.
And honestly, he should be.
I need to follow through on my threat to quit.
Resign right now.
That抯 the only way I fix this.
There抯 no crawling back after this. But first, I抳e got to stop crying.
I cover my face with my hand. Hot tears won抰 be held back and they come pouring down my cheeks.
This time, it抯 not a dream, and I抳e got no hot imaginary knight to save the day.
My boss knows my deepest, darkest desires.
He knows my pain.
He knows my art, my life, my soul revolves around him.
10
Fancy Unto Fancy （Lincoln）
Here we fucking are.
Me, Nevermore, and the height of absurdity.
If she weren抰 already in tears, I抎 laugh.
My temporary assistant-slash-copywriter named Poe sent me angsty poetry about bedding me.
Now that I know she抯 interested, I抦 torn between telling her we should find out just how much color I can burst into her world and apologizing for being the biggest dickhead alive.
I don抰 even know if sending me that file was an honest mistake.
The lump of pure guilt in my stomach doesn抰 care.
I have her working two jobs. I抦 the man putting her under the gun to market an important new line. Hell, I even have her chasing down my damn rolls for Wyatt.
Mistakes happen. I抦 a forgiving man, but we need to talk about this.
Still, there抯 no denying it would be a far bigger deal if she抎 sent that attachment to someone else, though.
Dakota hides her red face in her hands. The neckline of her dress dips into her cleavage as she moves, drawing attention to round globes I hate that I want to maul.