One Bossy Dare
I laugh. “True.”
“But,” he says, ““It can’t be worse than your freelancing, right? It’s a steady check or maybe a massive buyout. If you try it out and don’t like it, you can walk away.”
“Did Lancaster name a number?”
He shakes his head. “He didn’t. You want his card? He left it for me to pass on.”
“I’ll take it, but I’m not sure I’m going to do this, Wayne. Sorry. I just can’t make any big promises.”
“I wouldn’t expect it, Eliza. You’re a wildcat and you rock it. Don’t let anybody cage you in.” He hands me Lancaster’s business card. “Here you go. Just in case.”
“Listen, if I don’t do it, I’m giving you free coffee and baked goods for the rest of your life,” I tell him.
“Sweet. I win either way.” But the way his smile thins tells me that money would do infinitely more good than my consolation prize.
“You do, and you deserve it since you work for a raging dick.”
“His daughter went off on him after you left. First you tore him to shreds, then the teenager did. It was amusing.” Wayne sniffs.
“The girl at the table? That was his daughter?” I ask, a little shocked.
When he nods, I have to smile.
I hate that I’m curious.
But I love the thought of Mr. High and Mighty CEO being brought low by a mouth he can’t just walk away from.
I sit on the deck of Dakota’s sprawling home, overlooking the Puget Sound. “I just hope one day I can be a tenth as successful as you. Oh, and have a cute little baby or two.”
The little bundle of joy squirms in her arms. The way Dakota smiles down at the munchkin says her world is now complete and unbreakable.
They named the baby girl Evermore, and even if it sounded weird at first, now it’s kinda fitting.
Dakota looks up and laughs. “I mean, I can only take half the credit for this masterpiece.” She waves her hand at the kidlet snuggled in her blanket. “And Linc had this place before we even met.”
“No,” I say sharply.
“No what?”
“Lady, you’re a bestselling poet, a top-notch copywriter, and a badass mom. Do not sell yourself short in front of me.” I wag a finger.
“Um, my bestselling poetry collection has sold like fifty thousand dollars this past year—and that’s a lot for poetry.”
“You’re not in it for the money.” I smile, ignoring the obvious fact that money will never be a problem again when she’s married to a billionaire. “Also, you’re still one of the most successful poets in America. Congratulations. You made Edgar Allan proud.”
“Once a Poe, always a Poe, I guess. Even with the name changing to Burns.” She nods firmly. “Thanks for the confidence boost. And I think you should just reframe the way you view success. There’s something to be said for living life on your own terms. Nobody does that better than you, Eliza.”
“Really?”
She nods. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“What brought you to Seattle, anyway? I mean, way back when you could’ve just stayed warm in San Diego sipping iced lattes.”
I pull my knees to my chest and hug them close.
“It always seemed like my destination. I stomped around five states, did a summer working in Heart’s Edge at this cool little shop called The Nest, and then...hello, Seattle. I dunno. So many chains started here. Indie stores are still the beating heart of the coffee culture. It just feels natural.” I need to know what she thinks. “Speaking of chains, I, uh, may have a chance with one.”
“At what?” Her eyebrows lift as the baby squirms in her arms. “Seriously? You mean getting your coffee into an actual chain café?”
“Well...”
“Holy crap, that’s wild! Not like you’d ever go for that—it’s too corporate for you, right? But how’d that happen?”
I try not to grimace.
“It was pretty random. I was working on my latest version of Wyatt’s campfire brew and took it to Wired Cup for the barista to try while I studied the flavor profile of their new lineup—”
“Is it good?”
I give her the side-eye. “Definitely not sweet enough for you, you fiend.”
Her laughter makes the baby wave her little arms.
“You know I’m right. Your dark poet soul loves candied coffee with enough vanilla to rival potpourri. Anyway, this posse of suits comes in, and their ringleader—who looked like some mafia guy—starts talking trash to my friend Wayne about how the coffee is barely passable...turns out, he was the CEO.”
I fill Dakota in on the rest of the madness.
When I’m finished she blinks at me, holding the baby close to her chest. “What a riot. I feel like I’m still missing something, though...”
“You are. The jackass drank the coffee I left behind. He liked it so much he offered Wayne a nice fat bonus if I just swallow my pride and come to work for him.”