One Bossy Dare

Poor Wayne has a sick mother, too. He’s told me about her a dozen times. He needs this job to take care of her.

Yeah, I think I hate myself.

The adrenaline rush from telling this jerk off is infinitely more effective than anything coffee has ever done for me. But knowing I’ve made things worse for someone else turns it into a sickly jitter.

I really, really hope Wayne doesn’t get fired over my outburst.

I stare at his judge, jury, and executioner. Lancaster’s clenched jaw and the crease in his forehead only seem to make his features stronger, more defined.

Does that mean more vengeful, too?

And his body—his wall of angry muscle—tenses the way I imagine men must when they’re stepping onto a battlefield.

Gah, I’m so stupid.

I can barely face this guy now that the consequences are too real.

I don’t know how I can say anything else, but I gather the courage. Even as my face burns ghost pepper hot.

“I should, um—I should get out of here.” My voice is so weak. “Please don’t go firing anyone, Mr. Lancaster. This was all me. Heck, your staff deserves a huge raise for making Wired Cup what it is.”

And certainly for dealing with you, I don’t say.

The suits are still either laughing or staring in abject horror.

Lancaster whips around, throwing an acid glance over his shoulder. “Enough. She said she was leaving. Party’s over.”

They sober up fast.

He made them quit laughing. But why?

That’s almost a decent thing to do, getting a handle on a social situation gone pure train wreck. Nothing about this man seems decent, and why should he be decent to me? I just ambushed him at his business and accused him of lying.

Confusion swirling, I start moving.

“I hope there will be no unhinged rants about Wired Cup online later today?” Lancaster calls after me.

God.

Why haven’t I left already?

It’s the only way to end this conversation and maybe mitigate the carnage. I’ve made a big enough fool of myself already.

What would I even say online?

I’m about to shake my head when I realize this is my chance. I stop, slowly facing him again as I straighten my back and square my shoulders.

“We’ll see. As long as no one’s fired...no rant.”

“You’re negotiating, now?” The way he chuckles drips disgust. “You have no power here, Mystery Mouth.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the deal. Keep your house clean and so will I,” I say, biting my cheek so I don’t sass him harder.

He nods. “Any chance I could convince you to stay the hell out of my stores while I’m at it?”

I shrug. My oversized purse bangs my hip.

“I drink at least six cups of coffee a day. When I’m not home to make myself more, I pop into whatever café is closest. I’m not sure I’ll promise to never visit another Wired Cup again—not unless you ban me.”

“Perish the thought, Miss Mouth. I’ll gladly keep taking your money.”

Apparently, he can play the stupid nickname game too, I guess.

I can’t decide why that riles me up so much as I nod briskly and head for the door.

“Have a good day,” he calls as I lunge outside. I swear, he sounds almost triumphant.

At least a cool breeze soothes my searing skin.

God, Eliza.

How stupid can you be?

Stupid enough to almost get Wayne fired.

But I held back just enough to stop that. I think.

I hope I did, or he’ll definitely be hearing from me again by viral video on clock app.

If it didn’t mean Wayne’s livelihood on the chopping block, I almost wish he’d give me a good reason to go nuclear on TikTok.

Coffee royalty or not, Prince Lancaster needs a class in manners.

2

Badger Brew (Cole)

What the ever-living fuck just happened?

I survey the room, wondering if Miss Insanity will take the notion to come back to get the last word. My team stands around in a haze, trying to hide their grins and smart-assed whispers.

Destiny stares at me like the adorable pain in the ass she is, still perched in her chair, clasping her phone with both hands. When our eyes meet, she doesn’t even try to stop laughing.

“Holy crap, Dad. You got told.”

“Were you livestreaming?” I snap, hoping like hell I’m not about to be internet famous.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Unfortunately,” I echo, raising my brows.

My daughter gives me a sheepish smile and then returns to her screen gazing.

“Mr. Lancaster...I’m majorly sorry about that.”

I turn, glancing over the counter.

The barista with a beard thicker than the hipster frames sliding down his nose has his hands raised in surrender. I think one of them might be trembling.

“I’m sorry, again. She gets a tad overprotective. Eliza has coffee in her blood, man. It’s easy to forget she’s just another customer. If you’re worried, I don’t think she’ll make her complaints public or anything. She’s not a big social media type. She’s just—”

“A total badass!” I look over to find my daughter standing with her hands on her hips. Destiny laughs shamelessly. “She’s a honey badger. You remember that old meme? She sank her teeth in and didn’t let go. Honey badger don’t care!”