One Bossy Dare

“I suppose you can leave yours out. It’s probably better to have more on hand,” he says, annoyingly calmly.

Destiny appears over his shoulder, wearing a Wired Cup t-shirt. She’s leading a pack of chatty teenagers balancing a couple huge boxes on their shoulders.

I stare as the pack moves.

He glances at them over his shoulder and then looks back at me. “They need community service hours for Honor Society. And I see your rating cards—feedback from charity coffee isn’t very scientific. You don’t need to lug your brews around town anymore, you know. We have panels for taste tests I’d be happy to open for you. You’re not an amateur anymore. Welcome to the major leagues.”

It takes all my willpower not to roll my eyes.

“For the CEO of an ‘okay’ coffee brand, you’re arrogant. And what are they carrying?”

“Boxes full of insulated coffee and espresso drinks, all branded with Wired Cup’s name. Everybody wins at this event. Besides, I can serve more people than you can.”

My foot taps the ground, imagining I’m stomping his face.

“Dad! What do you want us to do with this stuff?” Destiny yells from across the room.

He stares at the table for a minute.

“Let’s put a few urns under the table for volunteers only.” He walks over and starts moving them as he’s saying it. “And then we’ll put a box of coffee and another box of espresso drinks on the table, and line the bottom with several more for easy reach. The rest are going to go to the actual Wired Cup booth.”

“This isn’t our booth?” she asks.

“No, this belongs to Haughty But Nice. I believe they’re selling donuts—which has nothing to do with fashion—so I’m not sure why they’re even trying to steal our thunder.”

“We sponsored the fashion show, but Dakota thought donuts would be fun,” Lincoln cuts in with a serious look. “I can never tell her no.”

“Wise man.” Cole grins at him with a real smile that has me doing a double take.

He just has to go from ten to eleven on the McHottie scale when he grins.

Shoot me now.

“Is Eliza coming to our booth?” Destiny asks.

“I don’t know, is she?” He looks at me.

“Nope. I’m here to help Dakota today. Sorry,” I say.

“Can I stay with Eliza?”

“No, you’re here helping your company and your friends,” he tells her.

“But Eliza is selling coffee too! It’s research, Dad.”

“Just let her stay,” I say.

He glares at me. “Sure. I always wanted to have my parenting decisions questioned by a lab tech.”

Ouch. I shrug, pretending it doesn’t get under my skin.

“And I always hoped my boss would be the surliest man in the industry. Guess dreams do come true.”

“She’ll get in the way,” he warns, walking closer and sizing me up.

“I’m fifteen, Dad! Not five. God.” Destiny stomps her foot.

“She was with me all day in the lab. I tried to tell you that before you left for the day, but you had other things on your plate, I guess,” I say pointedly.

“Fine. But if anything goes wrong—” He points at me. “You’re fired.” He points at his daughter next. “And you’re grounded.”

She jerks her eyes away, pretending to ignore him.

Good move. I do the same.

“The best part about this job is all the exercise my eyes get,” I say with an exaggerated eye roll.

Destiny giggles.

Cole glares at me and storms off, taking the other volunteers with him.

Thank God.

Destiny’s cool, but I’m not sure I could deal with that many teenagers.

When we’re alone again, Dakota leans in close, tapping my shoulder frantically. “Earth to Eliza? Where have you been? You didn’t tell me he looked like that.”

Oh, crap.

“Like what?”

She fans her face. “You know exactly what I mean. He’s a smokeshow with the whole tortured dad vibe...”

I almost gag.

But I can’t just go down this road again today on what’s supposed to be my day off.

“He seems like he’s into you,” Dakota teases with a massive grin.

Does he? I think like an excited teenager, but then I shake my head. We can’t do this right now.

“It’s not like that,” I say sharply. “Nothing like before.”

Except it’s really exactly like that, and my voice is whiny and defensive and possibly a little panicked.

I hope wincing ends the conversation.

“Oh, no. Definitely not like—before.” Dakota’s face falls. “Sorry. I was just teasing, lady. Didn’t mean to imply anything about that gross relationship with Derek. Yuck, I still can’t believe he did that to you...”

“Dakota, not here. Apology accepted.”

“I’m sorry again,” she whispers.

But maybe she’s right.

Maybe my baggage is the reason why I can’t have a single peaceful interaction with this man.

He’s a different person, but he fits Derek’s profile.

Older. Rich. Commanding. Attractive.

Maybe I’m just scared to death of ending up a sidepiece again—even if there’s a negative chance that ever happens with my boss.

I’m not nearly stupid enough to get involved with someone I work with. But maybe the similarities keep tripping some long repressed psychological switch deep in my brain.