One Bossy Dare

Because even here at this charity function, we can’t have a truce.

Not when Cole Lancaster is one bad cup.

8

Special Order (Cole)

My lips curl in amusement as I stare at the message on my phone between the break in longwinded panels.

I can’t believe you’re doing this, Lump. My brew wasn’t good enough for an undiscerning charity function, so you’re taking it to a conference now?

I laugh. It’s the tenth time Miss Angelo has texted me this morning, ever since she caught wind of the upcoming event and my travel schedule.

I’m probably enjoying her reaction more than I should be.

I reply, After considerable thought, I prefer Commander Coffee over the unflattering Lump. That does a disservice to my weekly jogging routine and the way it keeps me in shape.

That earns me a string of red faces with $!~# over their mouths.

Eliza: Lump. As in Lump of Cole, you lunk.

Cole: Regardless, you need to calm down. This is the perfect place to judge the new product. No one at this conference will mince words.

Eliza: ...that’s what I’m worried about.

Cole: I’m confident they’ll love it. And if they don’t, I’ll just keep paying you to experiment until you produce a drink they’ll adore. I’m not sure what you’re worried about.

I watch the dots at the bottom of the screen indicating she’s typing stop and start again. Several times.

Eliza: Maybe I just hate disappointing my boss. He’s rude as hell and gets scary when he’s mad.

Cole: He also hired you at a premium after a stormy altercation and provided ample direction. If you fucked up, he has no one to blame but himself.

That must catch her off guard.

I don’t get another text for half an hour as I return to reading over Troy Clement’s latest sourcing report about our Brazilian facilities.

When my phone pings again, I look down, expecting another text from Eliza.

It’s Destiny this time. She’s sent me a picture of the first slide of her presentation that goes with the paper. It’s eye-bleed purple and decorated with animated coffee beans that make me bite my tongue.

“Let’s hope the content is better than the style,” I mutter.

The center of the page reads, “Bean Business: The Science Behind An Empire.”

Well, the title has a nice ring to it.

I forward it to Miss Angelo before I can second guess, adding Destiny seems to have enjoyed her time in Development. Thank you again.

She immediately responds with a smiling cat emoji. You’re welcome. And the text you sent before this—the one where you took responsibility—that’s one thing I never expected.

I glare at my phone with my face overheating, scratching my beard.

There’s no need for such heavy words when this conference is nothing special. It’s the same as every other networking booster ever invented for men and women with net worths exceeding eight figures.

Corporate. Stiff. Droll.

Barely two hours in and I’m restless as hell.

Maybe it’s because I’m in a hurry to finish, press a few hands, and go home so I can pay a personal visit to the R & D team. It’s been almost a week since I sparred with my sassy new lab dork in person.

I sit through another panel, only half listening as some advertising mogul from Chicago named Heron drones on about his company’s success. The few mentions of how he found peace for his family and his company vaguely catch my attention.

I’m glad when it’s over, ready to grab a water for my parched throat.

I’m walking by the table that has the beverages when a tall man approaches. It takes me a second to put a face to the name.

Brock Winthrope?

I’ve only met him once, but he’s a whale among big fish, and heir to the international Winthrope luxury hotel brand. So when he wants to talk, I make time to listen.

He might be a bit of a young hothead from what I’ve heard, but what he lacks in age, he makes up for with that last name of his, which always wins respect. He’s also running more of the brand ever since his grandfather moved into the background after the grand opening of their Chicago jewel a couple years ago.

“Mr. Lancaster. I had to come over and tell you how otherworldly this coffee is. I love it,” he says, tapping the side of a complimentary cup with my brand logo on it.

“Thank you. We’ve been working on the latest line for a while. We’re testing it now for a launch late this year.”

He brings his nose to the cup and inhales sharply.

Damn. I can tell he’s not just faking it, which shocks me.

If the drinks are good enough to satisfy a billionaire’s palate, imagine the blowout this could be with everyone else.

“Delicious. I’ve never tasted anything quite like it.” He pauses reverently before he says, “We just opened two new Hawaiian resorts. One on Lanai, and the other on the big island. I’ve been searching high and low for extras to stand out. Everything from volcanic spa soaps to bamboo tree houses. I’m involved with approving the menus in our restaurants personally. And the minute I tasted this, it hit me like a truck. This coffee could elevate every meal we serve.”