One Bossy Dare

“You hear that, Dessy? You’re the expert here in talking young,” Katelyn says with a wry smile. “Since your dear old dad has me running after espresso machine suppliers who shortchanged us last month, I don’t have time to go on a honey badger hunt. So, you’ve got your first task.”

Destiny pops up from the floor. “You want me to call?”

“Yeah, the shop on Seventh Street.”

“You’ve managed to cure her bonelessness, Katelyn. Miraculous.” I snort as I look at Dess. “Why can’t you pop up like that when I tell you to get moving?”

“You’re a drill sergeant. Duh.”

“I was a lieutenant. Sergeants are noncommissioned,” I mutter.

“So, you admit you’re a drill sergeant?”

“Wrong. I outranked your average RDC and you know nothing about the US Navy.”

“Whatevs. I know it made you a total hardass for life,” she whispers under her breath—still loud enough to hear—as she rolls her eyes.

While Destiny dials the store, I head back to my office.

I’m perched in my tall leather chair before I realize I’m still holding the damn mason jar.

We’ll track down its owner soon enough. I try to focus on reports, but my eyes keep catching on that small glass container.

Even if I had this sample reverse engineered, I can’t use it right now. Plus, it’s too delicious to waste.

I do what any sane person would.

Bottom’s up.

My office door pops opens and Destiny bounces in.

Perfect timing.

Naturally, she catches me drinking from the mason jar and shakes her head with a loud click of her tongue. “Really, Dad? You’re drinking your own research?”

I give her my best mackerel-eyed stare. “She’ll be here soon enough and we’ll have a fresh sample we can actually use. Why waste this one?”

“Okay. I think you just have a thing for coffee made by people you hate.” She pauses. When I don’t even crack a smile at her silly comment, she sighs. “Her name’s Eliza Angelo. She’s not on LinkedIn or Facebook, so I had to do some digging. You’re welcome.”

“Everyone’s on Facebooger for reasons I will never understand.”

Destiny shakes her head again.

“Nope. Everyone old uses it, you mean. Not her. She’s listed as a virtual assistant on Instagram and Upwork, which means basically nothing. The HR lady said that depending on who her clients are, that could mean she’s struggling to get by—or it could mean she rakes in six figures.”

“That’s solid digging, little bee. Though not terribly helpful in getting a proper salary proposal together for HR,” I say gently.

She stares at me like she can’t believe I paid her an honest compliment.

“Kate and I researched it. VAs typically pull in thirty to seventy thousand dollars a year with the high earners being outliers. Kate thinks we should put two proposals together—one for an average VA and a backup if you think she’s an outlier.”

I stare at my daughter.

“Very thoughtful. Thanks, now I can retire.”

“Dad!” She stomps her foot. “It was mostly Kate’s idea, so give her a raise. I’m just the messenger. She says she’s already working on the proposals for you.”

A smile pulls at my lips.

Most kids would take credit and try to use it to gain some reward. Somehow, I still have a selfless, honest daughter behind the brat.

I just need a reminder sometimes.

“I have the best assistant,” I say, turning to the mini fridge behind my desk for a water.

Destiny grins. “Yeah, you do. You don’t even know how many of my friends have asked if you need help. The older juniors and seniors would kill to have a summer job with you—like literally go all Jane the Ripper. They all think you’re fire and it’s gross.”

I’m swallowing water from the bottle I just opened when she says it. I’m lucky I don’t spray mineral water from an Icelandic glacier all over the goddamned place like a human sprinkler.

“We’re in luck. I’m not in the market for a girl half my age who’s going to hit on me even if Mrs. Storm resigns tomorrow. Tell them I’m nobody’s fantasy.” I cough into my hand again, trying like hell not to stare awkwardly. “Also, that’s a subject we’ll never bring up again.”

“Jeez, Dad...”

“How’s shadowing? Not the sleeping pill you imagined?”

She squeezes her eyes shut and grimaces, scrunching her small face.

“Daddy, I love you, but I stand by what I said. Your job is boring AF.”

“And I know what that stands for, Dess. You’ll be grounded AF if you keep that up.” She flinches before I carry on. “Still, I suppose you’re right. Boring or not, someone needs to run this joint after I step aside, and you’re an only child.”

“Not my fault! You should’ve gotten remarried and had more kids. It’s not like you were short on ladies lining up for dates.” She makes a yuck face.

Technically, she’s right.

That’s why I humor her with a lopsided smile, ignoring the fact that I was busy with a little girl and a massive family legacy company. Not to mention a lifetime of fucking damage from the hell that ended my marriage prematurely.