One Bossy Proposal: Enemies to Lovers Romance
“You knew he was an attractive jerk when you took the job. Too bad you can’t get hazard pay for that.”
“I know,” I say glumly.
“So why did you do it?”
“Huh?” I shake my head. “I guess it just...seemed like the next logical step. I couldn’t be a lowly assistant with a sucky salary for the rest of my life.”
“I think there’s more to it than that. You could’ve gotten other jobs in this city, Dakota, but you chose to stick it out.” She takes the mug and sips. “Also, it’s a nice sunny day and we’re not wasting it. How about we talk it out on a bike ride?”
“Really?” I glance up, surprised.
Eliza has always been more of a Pilates or yoga kind of girl. Not to mention somewhat of a homebody on the weekends when she’s in full coffee mad scientist mode.
She grins and nods. “Yes! Let’s go.”
“Let’s ride to Sweeter Grind first. My treat.”
“I just made you coffee.” She gestures frantically at the cup.
“And it’s great. But hardly anyone goes to Sweeter Grind for the coffee over other places here. It’s all about the baked goods and the atmosphere.”
“True. Okay, I’m in.”
Ten minutes later, we’re bustling downstairs to retrieve our bikes.
“So what did the human dildo do this time?” Eliza asks.
“We were in a meeting full of people, and he asks me how a woman with no ring on her finger knows so much about weddings.”
She grimaces.
“God, the nerve. You should have asked him how a man with no game sells so much shit to women.”
I laugh hard. She’s in fine form today.
“If I had your brain, I would have. He had it coming. Only, he called me up last night trying to apologize...”
“At least, he tried, I guess? You should teach him social skills and charge him out the butt.”
He did try.
By the end of our little chat, he actually seemed sincere. That should make me happy.
When we get to the cafe, I go to the counter.
“Two Regis rolls, please.”
“I’m sorry,” the girl behind the counter says with a wince. “We just ran out.”
“Again?” My eyes bug out. “Wait, don’t tell me. A tall, growly guy with a black Centurion card?”
She laughs. “How’d you know? We had half a dozen left about ten minutes ago. Same guy bought ’em all up.”
The bosshole. I’m a thousand percent sure as soon as she confirms.
“Did he have mocha-brown eyes?”
She giggles. “Yeah. He was pretty built. The guy looked like he could rip you in two, except I’ve seen him before and he’s usually wearing a three-piece suit—not today.”
Eliza and I exchange a slow, agonized look.
I hate that I wonder what Lincoln Burns is wearing, too.
“He used to come in and just buy a few rolls at a time, but now he’s like...hoarding them? He buys at least half a dozen Regis rolls a few times a week now,” the barista says.
Eliza’s gaze never leaves me.
“That’s Captain McGrowly, all right,” I tell her. “And I think we’ve found the source of his superpower.”
What the actual hell, though? Is his mom a cinnamon roll serial killer if she doesn’t get her fix?
“I have no idea, but he really likes his Regis rolls,” the barista says. “He’s been coming around for about a year. Do you want to try something new? The apple turnovers are good.”
I nod. “Yeah, we’ll take turnovers. Do you have any idea where he goes when he leaves?”
I’m too curious. This is a man who doesn’t take sugar in his coffee and stashed the goods in his drawer when I brought them.
The barista shrugs. “I don’t know. Sometimes he comes in with a driver, but when it’s nice out like this, he takes off on foot. I think he was heading for the park today.”
“Is there anything between here and the park?”
“Anything you’d need six cinnamon rolls for? Not likely.” She gets into the bakery case and bags up two pastries for us.
I realize how dumb that question sounded.
I just wonder what he’s really up to.
Does his mom hang out there? Does he feed the birds cinnamon rolls and think they deserve no less than Sweeter Grind?
Rich people can be nuts, after all.
I pay and grab the paper sack holding our baked goods, then Eliza and I take our pastries outside.
“So what’s the plan?” she asks.
“No clue. I say we eat our turnovers and enjoy the spring day.”
“Don’t you want to find out what he’s doing at the park? She said he blew through about ten minutes ago. We could catch him,” Eliza suggests.
I pause, rolling it over in my head.
“Sure, but...it doesn’t seem like a great idea, stalking my boss at the park on the weekend. Being curious about what he does with a pile of rolls every week isn’t the best excuse.”
“I vote we live a little, Dakota, and my vote counts more,” she says with a grin. “We’ll stay back so he can’t see us. He has a head start. He may not even be there anymore.”