by Nella Tyler
Opposite from me, Ina was served a dozen buffalo wings and a platter of chili cheese fries. The mere sight of her meal was enough to give me second-degree heartburn. She reached forward and dived into the basket of wings, but eyed me with scorn. “Girl, are you really eating a salad?”
“This is no ordinary salad, I’ll have you know.”
“A salad is a salad. You can toss it, you can drizzle it with bacon ranch, you can add a thousand and one slices of delicious avocado, but it’s still a damn salad.” She shook her head and took a bite out of a sloppy wing. “I’m just saying, I’m a bigger girl and that paltry meal would only make me hungrier.”
She was a bigger girl, but not too big. Maybe twenty pounds overweight, but she was more than comfortable in her skin and that was beyond admirable. She was the most loveable girl I’d ever met, and it was a testament to her character and charm that everyone in the office thought the same. Over the course of any day, you’d hear whispers from one co-worker about another, but her name never came up in any conversations in a negative light, at least not conversations I was privy too.
For a while, on the rare occasions we’d hit the town, we’d tell everyone we were sisters because our hair colors were exactly the same—brown, and under the right lighting, her blue eyes seemed to match my green eyes. Other times, we’d tell men we were lesbian lovers to keep douchebags at bay when all we wanted was an apple martini on a chill Saturday night.
“I’m trying to watch my figure,” I said as I pulled my fork from the cloth napkin it was wrapped in.
“What the hell for?” She rolled her eyes and chewed the remainder of the meat off a wing before dropping it back into the basket. “You’re skinnier than Beckham.”
“Because,” I chuckled. It wasn’t about being the skinniest girl in the world; it was about staying healthy in an increasingly unhealthy world. Sure, I was skinny then, but I also knew my metabolism would eventually fall over a cliff and I wanted to prepare myself with a healthy lifestyle when I was still young. “Just because.”
“It’s not like you’re out there fishing for dick.”
“Ina,” I scolded her playfully. “Just because I have standards—”
“Ridiculous standards.”
“It is too much to ask for a man that has something going on other than his swag?” I took a bite of my salad, but continued to speak while chewing. It wasn’t like me to be rude, and chewing food while talking is certainly rude, but again, we only had hour-long breaks and it took a good twenty minutes to walk to the café and order our food. “Is it so wrong to want a man who has his life put together, is kind and sweet—”
“I realize you’re not even half way done with that list of yours and the damn answer is a damn yes.” She reached for her Coke and took a long sip, her eyes never failing to glare at me all the while her lips were molded around the straw. Finally, she batted her eyes to the left and a smile rippled across her lips before offering me a wink.
“Can I get you ladies anything else?” Our server—Charles—said from above us with his hands folded behind his back. He was younger, somewhere around the age of twenty-one, I guessed, but he was adorable, sexy even. Short, brown hair that was tousledwith dark eyebrows and piercing, blue eyes. And the cutest damn butt on this side of Starbucks Corporate. “A refill?”
“Yes, please,” Ina said in a hushed moan, eliciting a cute smile from Charles. He reached forward and took the cup from Ina’s horny hands. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome ma’am,” he said and cocked his head to me. “And anything for you, beautiful?”
“Beautiful?” I glared at him with a shake of my head.
“Yeah.” He shrugged and leaned close. “I’m not supposed to hit on guests—”
“There’s a good reason for that,” I pointed out, trying my best to not be rude in the process. It’s not that I was an asshole—or a bitch—or that I was ballsy, it’s just that I could be straightforward when I had to be. I worked in the business world, and because I was a woman, I had to learn to speak up for myself. “Look, you’re really cute, but I’m not on the market.”
“Oh.” His eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“Realize?” I questioned, confused. “Oh, no. I’m not married.” I laughed and grimaced. “It’s just that I’m not looking for anything, you know?”
“Right.” He chuckled, trying to play it off cool, but his cheeks blushed with embarrassment. “I’ll get your check.”
“Thank you.” I watched him head towards the kitchen before turning back to Ina, who leaned across the table with a blank expression on her pretty face.
“What is wrong with you, girl?” Ina narrowed her eyes at me with contempt. “That boy has got it going on.”
“He works in a café.”.
“Don’t be like that.”
“Be like what?” I shrugged and took a sip of water “It’s not because he works in a café.”
“Then enlighten me, because those words just came out of your big mouth.”
“Slinging burritos—”
“Or a salad in your case.”
“Serving food,” I continued, “at a café isn’t a career. It’s the first step of many. That’s the point that I’m trying to make. I want someone who is already on their way to being who they’re going to be, not some kid who’s probably still in college.”
“You’re barely out of college yourself.”
“That’s an excellent point.” I wagged my finger at her before loading my fork with delicious spinach. “What’s the rush?”
“The rush is that those eggs of yours aren’t getting any younger.”
“Seriously?” I arched my brows. “I’m twenty-three.”
“Exactly,” she howled. “You need to reel a man in while you’re still young, elsewise you’ll find yourself an ancient hag like me with next-to-no marriage proposal potential in the near future.”
“You’re only twenty-five,” I said with a mouthful of spinach.
“Touché.” She pushed the basket of wings out of the way and slid the loaded fries towards her. “I’m done playing matchmaker. Let’s talk about your trip.”
“It’s still two months away.” I sighed. “But I honestly can’t wait. I’m so tired of the damn rain and all I want is that California sunshine.”
“Twenty-fifth anniversary, right?”
“Yes, and thank god Fred finally gave me the okay to take the weekend off.” If he hadn’t, I briefly flirted with the idea of just disappearing for the weekend. In this modern age, it’s rare for a couple to stay together for one year, let alone twenty-five. There was no way in hell I was missing their huge party for their twenty-fifth anniversary.
“How many times did you have to blow him to get those dates off?” she inquired with the most serious of tones. “That’s right at the tail-end of the second quarter.”
“Are you serious?” I cocked my head with disdain. “You really think I would do that?”
“I would, but I’m also a whore, so what do I know?”
“Must you be so self-deprecating?” I questioned, though I knew she was joking. She had a particular brand of humor that took a while to adjust to.
“It’s nothing of the sort.” She laughed and threw her arms in the air. “I love sex,” she yelled with no care that there were people around us: professional, classy people.
I leaned across the table and scolded her. “Could you not embarrass me like that?”
“That depends.” She leaned over and met me halfway over the tabletop. “Are you coming to the happy hour tonight?”
I rolled my eyes at her and pushed my plate out of the way. “You know I have no interest in fraternizing with those people.”
“I, on the other hand, really want to fraternize with those people.” She stuck a fry in her mouth and began to chew. “Especially Nathan.”
I shook my head gently at her. “Seriously, Ina? I’m ninety-nine point three thousand percent sure he�
�s off limits?”
“Why do you think that?” She furrowed her brow and sat back in her chair. “Like who says that?”
“Company policy dictates that.”
“Please.” She waved me off with her hand and snickered. “He’s super hot, sweet, and unmarried.”
“And he’s your boss,” I felt the need to point that out to her in the case that she had forgotten.
“And he’s yum,” she continued with a broad smile, ignoring my words of caution. “There are a million accounting jobs in this city, but there’s only one Nathan Dillon.”
“I wish you luck on your honeymoon,” I said with enough sarcasm to drown the both of us and hooked my finger for the server to approach—that young stud, I think to myself, again with sarcasm.
“Please don’t make me go alone,” she pouted with pursed lips. “I’ll make it up to you in any way you want. I promise.
“I’ll think about it,” I groaned, but really had no intention to think about it at all. I was dead set on not going because why would I choose to spend any more time with my coworkers than necessary, Ina excluded.
“I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” she said with a smirk as she leaned across the table.
“I said I’ll think about it.”
“See you at six.”
Chapter 3
Caleb
There’s nothing like jotting down notes on a pad of paper to make a client believe you’re actually listening to what they are saying. That was me, sitting in my office across from a very wealthy celebrity client. The term celebrity I use loosely as she had the kind of pseudo fame that’s not really fame at all. She emerged into the national scene via a trashy reality show about her dysfunctional family. At first it was just like any other show on television, and then something crazy happened, even by modern reality television standards—her father showed up on her doorstep thirty-seven minutes after being released from prison. The big twist? She had no idea her father wasn’t the man that raised her.
She came from humble beginnings, but after six years of the reality television circuit, she became a multimillion dollar media sensation. If I ever thought the path I paved to riches was easy, being in her presence would tell me otherwise. At least I worked hard as hell to get where I was.
There’s no denying she’s easy on the eyes though. Those days, she was looking like the finest of the A-list, with smooth, even skin and a dark tan. Her breasts peaked just above a tight, black top; breasts that were bought and paid for by the producers of her show.
Now, she’s wanting to create a dieting app, which are about a dime a dozen and hardly ever profitable, but she ponied up a lot of cash, and I’m not one to refuse cash, even if I believed it was all about to be flushed down the drain.
“What separates your app from the four million other dieting apps on the market?” I questioned with false intrigue. I already knew what the answer, and the answer was that there was nothing innovating or exciting in what she was offering, but it wasn’t my job to tell her that. When it came to rich, snooty clients such as herself, my job was to be a yes man.
“For starters, the app will be branded and co-sponsored by fashion and beauty products and outfits.”
“I see,” I said while jotting down some notes on my pad:
This girl is an idiot.
When is lunch?
Fuck lunch. When is happy hour?
I cocked my head back up at her with a smile and tapped my pen against the antique, marble desk I had shipped all the way from Sweden. It cost me a pretty penny, but it was one of a kind, much like myself. “When it comes to getting this app onto user’s phones and tablets, in your opinion, what is the best strategy?”
“Right.” She nodded and crossed one leg over the other. My eyes shifted to her smooth, fit legs as her skirt hitched up her thigh. “I’m bringing my built-in media empire into the fold, so I figured we could use the show to launch the product.”
“The viewership of your show is what, two million per episode, right?” I scribbled some more bullshit notes, and thanked God she couldn’t see them. “I’m going to honest here, and I want you to have the confidence that I know what I’m talking about. Your viewership isn’t going to be the right demo for this app. I’ve done my research and the average viewer of your show is a forty-two-year-old woman in the bible belt. An app like this would be more targeted, beneficial, and thusly more successful with young adult women in metropolitan areas.”
“Really?” she asked with a cock of her head and pursed her lips. And those lips were something special. I imagined them wrapped around my cock, but I kept myself composed. After all, I didn’t come that far in business without a professional poker face. “I should just assume you know what you’re talking about, I guess.”
“Look,” I pushed the notepad out of the way and leaned across the desk, taking each of her hands in mine. “I’m going to make sure this app is the most successful dieting app in the entire universe and I’m going to need your trust to do that.”
I smiled at her, cocky, wide, and all knowing. I had her right where I wanted her, right in the palm of my hands.
Literally.
With my back planted firmly against my chair, I pushed myself back against the comfortable leather with each toss of my notes from the previous client into the trash, playing an improvised game of basketball.
Each and every shot landed right where I wanted them, right beside the trash can. It was all meant to be a carefully devised trap.
Laura knocked on the door first and then walked into my office without permission, but that was par the course. I had an open-door policy when it came to the people I liked, and a closed door policy for those I didn’t. Lance was obviously on the latter list and I secretly hoped every day that he’d actually discover my closed-door policy was bullshit.
Guess that made me an asshole.
“You really need to work on your shot,” Laura said to me with a smirk as she bent over beside the trashcan to begin picking up the small wads of paper.
I chewed my lip as I fantasized about taking her right there, or better yet, bending her over my desk. It was a fantasy and nothing more. I knew nothing would ever come from my overactive imagination, but there’s nothing wrong with dreaming, you know? But my dreams were vivid. Still, I wasn’t willing to risk my reputation on some wild fling, because I knew it could come back and bite me in the ass.
Still, I flirted because I just couldn’t help my damn self.
“Laura?” I inquired and kicked my feet on top of my desk.
“Yes?” She straightened herself out and ran her hands over her skirt, pushing it back down where it belonged. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m thirsty.”
“Okay.” She nodded with a smile and wrapped her palm around the doorknob. “I’ll be right back.”
“Really?” I arched one brow. “You don’t need to do that.”
“It’s fine.”
“Seriously, please don’t.” I crossed my legs over each other and cradled my hand behind my head. “I need to get some damn exercise, so I’ll get it myself.”
“You’re kidding, right?” She cocked her head at me and approached my desk, taking a seat across from me. “You’re the fittest guy I know.”
“Fitter than Lance?” I questioned and pushed myself backward in the chair to allow my feet room to fall to the floor. “You can be honest.”
“Fitter than an Olympic Swimmer.”
I took that as a dig at Lance and his subpar swimming skills that he never would shut up about. It’s all I heard growing up and frankly, I found it to be a boring sport, if you could even call that. I much preferred to spend my time naked in pools with the company of a woman. Beat the hell out of swimming back and forth.
“I don’t know,” I sighed and flexed by biceps, taking a quick glance at each one in turn. “You don’t think these could be any bigger?”
She laughed and waved off my concern. “You’re so dumb, you know
that?”
“Yeah?” I furrowed my brows and eyed her up and down, stopping only when she seemed to catch me and averted her eyes elsewhere. That was the perfect time to stop flirting and to get down to business. “Do I have anything else I need to do before this drunk fest?”
“Nope.” She pursed her lips. “All that’s left to do is get your dancing shoes on.”
“Dancing shoes?” I chuckled and shook my head. “I’m going to go get that water now.” I rose to my feet and marched to the door, cocking my head over my shoulder as I pulled it open. “Do you want anything?”
“A pay raise,” she said, and I couldn’t tell if she was sarcastic, or if she was masking her seriousness with sarcasm. Either way, she was definitely worth the extra cash, and not because she was hot as hell, but because she was the finest damn assistant in all of Seattle.
As I reached into the refrigerator in the break room, I questioned to myself why I had never had a private fridge installed in my office. I believed it had something to do with Nathan insisting that it was important we weren’t typical CEO’s, and how he wanted us to blend in with our workers so they never felt we were above them.
Which, whatever. That never made sense to me, because all of the workers were beneath us. After all, it was our hard work, dedication, and imagination that brought this business from our Harvard dorms into that towering office in the sky.
I made a mental note to have a private refrigerator installed in my office within a week, and a wine cooler too. Perhaps even a stove, but that was something I needed to think about, because then I’d need to hire a chef because everyone and their mother knew I was the worst cook on this side of any body of water.
I twisted the cap off my bottle of water and shot the cap like a basketball into the trashcan adjacent from me without so much as looking first.
