Chapter 4 #2
Dre blinked before clearing her throat. “Yeah, maybe I will.”
I gave the hottie in the motorcycle jacket a grin then waggled my eyebrows at Dre and took my bundle. “See ya.”
“Bye, Ryan.” Dre cleared her throat again as she wiped her hands down her apron. “Can I help you?”
I whistled my way out the door. Love—or maybe it was just a little lust—was in the honey-scented air for sure. I was glad to see someone was getting a little whiff of happiness. I knew I sure wasn’t.
I glanced back through the big picture window to see tall, dark, and silver eyes leaning against the counter, his phone forgotten.
“Watch it!” I turned to see Miss Speedy McBikerson winging her way back down Kensington.
You know when they say things happen in slow motion? Or when life flashes by your very eyes?
Lies.
The sweets-filled pink box started off in my arms and ended up pinned under my armpit when I crashed into the sidewalk in a blink.
When I opened my eyes, a bike tire spun about three inches from my nose as the biker popped up off the ground a hell of a lot faster than I did. Then again, she wasn’t covered in caramel, chocolate, or some oozing cream filling.
Lime Helmet hauled up her bike. “If you broke my bike, I’ll sue.” She hopped back on her bike and took off.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I shouted as I rolled onto my hip with a wince. I didn’t even want to look down. I could feel all the sugar congealing to my skin.
I peeled the box off my sweater just as Dre rushed outside.
“Are you okay?”
“Here, let me help you up.” Silver Eyes hauled me off the sidewalk without even a grunt. I wasn’t a small girl. Both height and curves meant I was a good handful.
“Oh, Ryan.” Dre’s horrified face told me all I needed to know.
A donut fell out of the box and plopped next to my shoe just as my phone shrieked from my bag. It wasn’t any of my usual ringtones, which meant it had to be PMS.
“Perfect.”
“Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.” Dre hooked a hand through my arm. “I’m not sure I have enough napkins for this.”
Hot Guy glanced at his motorcycle. “I could take you home.”
I sighed as my phone rang again. I gave the delicious guy—who’d now seen me at my graceful best—a weak smile. “I’m late for work.”
“Think this qualifies as a get out of jail free card.”
I sidestepped the delighted pigeon who was now getting a sweet treat. “You don’t know my boss,” I muttered. “Hell, I don’t really know him either, and I know this isn’t going to go over well.”
Silver Eyes gave me an arched brow.
“First day.”
“Ah.”
I glanced at Dre. “Got a bag I could borrow?” I threw the box in the green trash bin attached to the crosswalk pole.
“Let me get you another box.”
I waved her off. “It’s okay. I don’t have time.” I used the tips of my fingers to pick up the bag that surprisingly wasn’t dented too badly. “I just need to get this off.”
Dre nodded and ran back into her shop.
Silver Eyes looked at me. “Can I help?”
“Not the way I envisioned asking a guy to help remove my clothes.”
He laughed and lifted my mangled braids off my shoulders and skillfully tucked the ends back into my fractured bun.
I glanced over my shoulder in surprise.
“Three younger sisters. I braided a lot of hair.”
Dre came back with a canvas bag. “Sorry, I only have reusable ones.”
Silver Eyes smiled at her again. “That’s a good thing.”
Dre pinked up again. “Gotta do my part.”
As much as I appreciated the romantic dance going on around me, I had to get this stupid sweater off to see just how much trouble I was in.
Dre and Silver Eyes helped me get each sleeve off. Dre gasped.
“Ugh, how bad?”
“Not bad at all,” Silver Eyes muttered.
Dre gave him a quick look. He shrugged with a wolfish smile.
“That’s some jewelry, Ry.” Dre held out the bag for me to dump the sweater inside. It was one of my favorites. Hopefully, I could salvage it with a soak tonight.
“Oh, crap.” I’d forgotten about the low back on the dress and the tiny straps. Hence the sweater. “Not exactly business casual.”
Dre pressed her lips together against a laugh.
“You’ll be a hit at the office,” Silver Eyes said with a grin.
My phone rang again. I blew out a breath, and then shoved the fritters bag into my purse. “Thanks, Dre. Sorry about the bag.”
“All good.” She crossed her arms. “I wish I had something I could give you to wear. Don’t think my array of aprons will work.”
I laughed. “No, not really. Wish me luck.” I wiped cream filling from my upper arm.
“Preston’s gonna love that.”
Pretty sure Dre meant to say that under her breath, but I didn’t have time for another witty answer. I glanced up at the clock in the square with a groan.
“Definitely not going to make a good impression today.” I crossed the street to the large building where Shaw’s office was located. My phone rang again as I opened the door. “Oh, shut up.” I checked the directory before I slapped the button on the elevator.
I dug out the baby wipes I kept in my bag for emergencies. I went through half the pack by the time I got to the fourth floor. Cripes, I even had frosting on my damn neck. I was debating taking off my body jewelry since it was on display now, but the door slid open and made the decision for me.
Whatever I’d been prepared for was a million years away from the man standing before me.
Dear goddess, please don’t be my boss.
My gaze traveled up and up. He was all angles from his jawline to his broad shoulders to the tapered waist accentuated by the cut of his suit.
Even his cheekbones were severe and hollowed out in annoyance.
Dammit, he even had the little muscle flex in his upper jawline that said danger! Danger, I’m pissed off.
He lifted his chin and looked down his nose at me, which effectively cooled my panties.
Sort of.
I hooked my bag over my shoulder and sauntered out of the elevator. The only thing I could do at this point was try to pull off this outfit.
My bracelets shimmied down my arm to brush my hand. The chains of my necklace shifted under my dress and the crystals down my back felt warm. I liked to think they were doing their job to keep all my shit together, but it was probably the heat of the August day.
“Miss Moon?”
“Mr. Shaw.” I just knew he was my boss. This was exactly how my day was going.
“You’re egregiously late.”
I pulled the crushed sack of fritters out of my bag and handed it to him as I walked by. “I’d explain the ridiculous start to my day, but it would probably bore you. Nor would you believe it.”
The desk outside the glassed off corner office had to be mine. It had April’s energy all over it. I set my bag down on the corner, shot the canvas bag full of sticky sugar cotton under my desk, then leaned against the side.
Mr. Shaw was still standing in front of the elevators, his jaw tight and his eyes blazing, his long fingers holding the crumpled bag away from his suit.
Like a dog’s dirty business.
Panty alert again.
What was wrong with me? Had I hit my head and not realized it?
I kind of liked the heat in his gaze. And the attitude. Maybe even the sneer.
I’d assumed I would only find icy disdain from my texts and emails. And yet it was a miracle the glass around the office behind me hadn’t shattered from the force of his stare.
He was a rude man, even when he wasn’t saying a word. But rather than being infuriated by his annoyance, I was…eager.
Ready to get my spar on with a worthy opponent.
I crossed my legs at the ankle and gripped the side of the desk. Fake it till you make it, girl. “Would you like to inform me of my tasks for the day, Mr. Preston Michael Shaw, Esquire?”