She smiles so sweetly, but her eyes are blazing green daggers.
揘ah. I don抰 hand out exorbitant sums for cinnamon rolls or apologies to jerkwads I never wronged. I make financial decisions with my brain, not my stomach. You should try it sometime,?she snarls. 揂lso, I抦 happy for the asshole who got the cinnamon rolls. He clearly must be missing something in his shriveled little ego and needs to overcompensate.?
Damn her.
Damn her again for making that little sliver of space between her thumb and forefinger.
Oh, baby girl, if only you knew. No woman ever calls me little.
揑抣l have you know, I woke up with a mad craving for a bear claw this morning,?she continues, batting her lashes. 揑抎 hate to think my friends at Sweeter Grind put all that work into Regis rolls that went to waste.?
For a second, I want to walk up to her, stare her into the ground, and tell her what抯 at stake.
How these rolls are the only way to keep a homeless man alive while he抯 in his funk.
Deprive him, fuck me over for a laugh, and you抮e single-handedly responsible for starving a veteran. I hope that helps you sleep at night.
Of course, I say none of those things.
This girl may have a taste for tormenting me, and she could be legit crazy. There抯 no upside to letting her know anything about me or my real need for these rolls.
揘ice cope, lady. You can抰 prefer a bear claw over a Regis roll. No one does,?I growl.
What am I saying? I don抰 even like these stupid pastries.
I have no earthly idea why everyone hyperventilates over them ever since this little Montana cafe opened in Seattle. I just know that they do.
A voice in the back of my mind whispers, You know it抯 not her fault that Wyatt didn抰 eat. Wyatt had debilitating problems long before you couldn抰 buy him his daily cinnamon roll.
揥hatever, entitled douchebag,?she huffs out.
For a second, I stop and glare.
揓ust what makes you think I抦 entitled? Because I offered you a car payment for your cinnamon roll??
揘ope. You were pissed because I got the last cinnamon roll in spite of my being here before you, and then you didn抰 just offer to buy it. You offered me more than some people make in a week for it. Like I said, I make financial decisions with my brain. No one who works for their money would have offered five hundred bucks for a freaking roll that would be available again the next day. You need your own hashtag. #BornRich.?
What the fuck is she talking about?
揥atch your step. You might have no idea who you抮e talking to,?I warn.
揙h, I have a pretty good idea. Someone who doesn抰 get how much money that is.?
揧ou don抰 think I know it抯 a lot? Obviously, if someone is willing to pay five hundred dollars for a damn roll, it抯 important to them. Any sane person would抳e snapped up the offer.?
I hate how good she is at hooking her little claws under my skin.
I can feel my blood boiling.
揙h, please. Forgive me if I found my Regis roll craving just as important as your five-hundred-dollar craving. And who am I talking to? Why don抰 you enlighten me? Are you some European prince? Royalty? Should I curtsy to His Majesty, Grand Duke of Dickheadistan??
I have to bite my cheek to hold in a laugh. I hope this firecracker moonlights in stand-up comedy.
揧ou抮e a riot. And if there is such a country, it sounds like they抎 better make you an ambassador. You抮e fluent in the neighboring asshole dialect.?
She shrugs, finally taken aback, glancing away sharply.
揑 was being serious. You suck,?she says, still avoiding my eyes.
揂nd you think you抮e cute,?I fire back.
揘o, but apparently you do,?she says, finally looking at me.
I fold my arms, waiting for whatever bullshit she抯 about to fling.
She grins. 揧ou wouldn抰 have said it if you didn抰 think so.?
Fuck.
Cute is an understatement. There抯 no denying she抯 gorgeous.
She just happens to be a coldhearted, ruthless, pastry-stealing queen bitch on top of it.
揝ir? I have your cinnamon rolls packed up. Are you ready to check out??the barista says like a voice cutting in from another world.
揂lmost. I need a box of black coffee, too.?
The barista nods, moves to the back counter, and preps my coffee.
揑 hope all that抯 for the miserable souls who have to put up with you,?the little thief says.
揑t抯 for my staff. I feed my people well so they can keep up with me,?I grumble, knowing that抯 only half true.
揔eep telling yourself that, Big shot.?She goes quiet for a minute before clucking her tongue and saying, 揧ou would have a staff.?
揥hat抯 that mean??I ask slowly.
Why do I even care?
I don抰 know this chick from Eve and what I know about her, I despise. Who cares what she thinks about me? I don抰， and I hope today is enough for her to buzz off.
With any luck, she抣l pick a different cafe and I抣l never see her again. It抯 a big city, or at least big enough.
I pay for the coffee and sweets without looking back at that literal green-eyed monster. The barista hands me three neatly packaged boxes of cinnamon rolls and a huge box of hot coffee.
I didn抰 plan on ordering breakfast for the whole company this morning.
I haven抰 thought this balancing act through, hoisting the coffee on my shoulders and heading for the door. I try to carry everything, but have to set it all down, reposition things, and try again at the table by the door.
The devil in the black dress lingers there as she waits for her bear claw, watching as I finally manage to get everything stacked in a way so I can trudge out the door.
That抯 all right, sweetheart. Don抰 get the door for me. I can manage just fine.
She must read my mind because she smiles at me.
揑抎 like to help, but…？
揙ffer not accepted. Save your energy for that breakfast you抣l pretend to enjoy,?I snarl, kicking the corner of the door open and spinning my way out.
Her high-pitched laugh is the last thing I hear.
I roll my eyes, swearing as a broken section of sidewalk catches my shoe. I almost drop hot coffee on my feet three times before I make it back to my car.
揙h my God. Oh my Gawd, this is heaven,?Lucy moans as she gnaws at a Regis roll and drops into the seat between Ida and me with a thud.
Apparently, eating for two makes you treat a pastry like it抯 a wagyu steak.
揂re you okay??I ask.
She抯 going to pop any minute, and I抎 rather it not happen here. I also wish her the best.
I don抰 know how this office梕specially yours truly梬ill survive her maternity leave. As my executive assistant, Lucy keeps the place in order so I can focus on what I do best. Making money.
揙h, I抦 fine.?She takes another bite that makes her eyes bulge. 揝ay, since when do you sit in on interviews??
揑 told him it wasn抰 necessary,?Ida, my HR director, says with a flourish of her skunk-striped silver and black hair. 揑t抯 a senior copywriter position.?
揘ot just any copywriter position,?I correct. 揟his new wedding line stands to make us billions of dollars梚f it抯 marketed properly. I抦 personally invested when the talent will make or break us. Besides, anyone we bring on right now has to be fully competent. You抮e about to go on maternity leave, Lucy, so that means I can抰 have new hires who need endless coddling. There抯 no time. Anyone we hire has to hit the ground running.?
Lucy laughs. 揑 love being essential. How will you survive without me around here, boss??
揥e抣l manage,?I snap, hating that she has to rub her absence in. 揓ust get back as soon as possible.?