Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 61939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
When the final latte was mixed, he purchased a batch of five-hundred-dollar gift cards as promised. Then he handed them out one by one while a fresh group of younger suits came in and retrieved all the coffees for him.
Of course, he’s too good to carry them out of the store himself.
He held out the final gift card to me, and my hand must not have received the “slap that shit away” memo from my brain, because I was slipping it into my pocket within seconds.
“You’re welcome, Miss,” he said, lowering his voice. “I hope you find someone who can unwind you sooner rather than later.”
He moved past me before I could think of something sarcastic to fire back.
“Caramel frappé with double cinnamon for Andrea!” the barista called my name, breaking me out of whatever the hell that was. “Thanks for choosing Sweet Seasons!”
“Really, Raina?” I grabbed my cup. “What happened to making every guest feel like a billionaire when they come inside? You should’ve shut him down.”
“Sorry.” Her cheeks were still red. “Didn’t you notice how hot he was?”
“No.”
“He didn’t make your panties the slightest bit wet?” She lowered her voice. “Mine are soaked…”
I didn’t have a response for that.
I turned away and stepped outside.
Mr. Impatient was standing near the curb in front of a luxury black town car, sipping his coffee.
Just walk past him, Andrea. Don’t say anything else.
“Excuse me?” I cleared my throat, and he slowly turned around.
“Yes?” he asked. “Would you like another gift card?”
“No, I don’t want another freakin’ gift card. What I would like is an apology.”
“A what?”
“An a-po-lo-gy.” I enunciated every syllable.
“From who?”
“From you, for being an ass and acting like everyone else’s time is less important than yours.”
“Hmmm.” He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his woodsy and spicy cologne. “I have somewhere to be right now, so you can get in my car if you want to talk.”
“I don’t get in cars with strangers.”
“What about men you’re obviously attracted to?”
“Then I still wouldn’t be getting in your car.”
“Fair enough.” He took another sip from his cup. “I’m sorry, Miss.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” He nodded. “I’m sorry I have somewhere to be and can’t give you what you clearly need right now.”
“That’s not the apology I asked for.”
“That’s the only one you’re getting.” He slipped into the car with a smirk.
I pulled out the gift card and tossed it into his lap before he could shut the door.
“You’ll probably need that before me,” I said. “And if I were you, I wouldn’t come back to this location. You won’t be allowed inside.”
“I’ll take my chances.” He laughed and shut the door, and I watched the car coast away.
Feeling petty, I snapped a picture of his license plate. Then I logged into our corporate “banned customers” list and added his car to it for all drive-thru cafés in the future.
I’d figure out his name later.
Then I’ll ban him from every Sweet Seasons in the city.
THREE
HARRISON
No one has ever talked to me that way.
I sipped my coffee and stared out the window. I’d expected a little pushback after skipping everyone in line, but nothing like what that gray-suited woman served me.
Nothing remotely close to that.
With auburn waves that fell just below her breasts, deep almond eyes, and a suit that hugged her curves in places I wanted to explore at first sight, she was easily the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
And it only took a few lines from her soft, bow-shaped lips for me to realize we shared the same sense of sarcasm.
Usually, people withered in my presence and backed down from pressing me on anything—whether I was right or wrong.
She seemed blissfully unaware of that rule.
If the customers hadn’t turned on her, I had a feeling she would’ve pressed me even further.
“Harrison?” Aaron waved a hand in front of my face. “Are you there?”
She had deep dimples and freckles, too…
“Harrison.” His clipped tone snapped me out of my thoughts.
“What, Aaron?”
“Do you have a game plan for what happens when we get to Sweet Seasons headquarters today?” he said. “Or are you just going to barge in and beat on your chest declaring, ‘Mine. All mine’?”
“I was planning to kindly ask Mr. Lewis to meet me in the lobby, but now that you’ve mentioned it…” I set down my cup. “That latter option sounds better.”
“It was a joke.”
“You didn’t give me a chance to laugh.”
“Well, good,” he said. “Just try to be nice, calm—pretty much the opposite of who you are—for all of five minutes, and then—”
“Driver, turn this car around.” I interrupted his spiel, completely uninterested in strategy talk at this moment. “Now.”
“Uh, yes sir.” He shot me a confused look through the rearview mirror, but he nodded and switched lanes.
“What the—” Aaron shook his head. “We’re five minutes away. What are you doing?”