“Aw, honey, I’m sorry. Is he at least young and hot?”
“No. Horrible looking. Ancient. Ugly—has two broken teeth and halitosis, which is really unfortunate when he breathes down my neck. I held my breath twice yesterday. He loves his coffee.” I grinned wider and wider as I kept imagining all the things I wished Lucas was but wasn’t.
“He sounds awful!” She made a gagging noise and laughed. “Well, look at it this way—once you put your time in, you’ll get noticed, and then you’ll be the boss.”
My shoulders slumped. Just the idea that I had to spend time with Lucas to get the position with the company had my stomach clenching with anxiety and my palms sweating. The phone was slipping out of my hands. Great. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“I’ll call later. Love you, Avery Bug.”
For some reason, my eyes welled up with tears, maybe because she was the only one who still called me that. Lucas used to, but that was before the incident.
The aftermath changed everything.
Not that I’d ever been able to live up to my sisters’ standards, even before that. Kayla was perfect. Brooke was dramatic and wild.
And then there was me.
“Love you,” I choked out, then hung up before she could ask if I was okay.
“Halitosis, huh?” a voice said behind me.
A male voice.
A raspy one.
A horrible one.
Slowly I turned, praying in those few seconds that I was wrong and that a superhot Channing Tatum look-alike had been watching me and wanted to take me out on a really nice date and buy me steak. My mouth watered.
I would make that steak my bitch.
See? Starvation! I needed this job!
“Thorn in my side.” I managed to say his last name without adding an expletive at the end of it. Such progress. “Didn’t see you there.”
“Cute.” He rolled his eyes and smirked. “Is that my new nickname?”
“If the pitchfork fits . . .” I batted my eyelashes.
“Take it back, or I won’t give you this.” He dangled a venti caffè mocha in front of my wide, shame-filled eyes. “It’s your favorite. I even had them add extra whipped cream.”
“You. Are. Satan,” I whispered hoarsely. “That coffee may as well be an apple. Take a sip, Avery, just one little taste—and boom!” I clapped my hands. “Clothes gone, I’m naked!”
Lucas’s frown deepened, his smirk disappeared.
“I think I’m hallucinating from lack of sleep.” I grabbed the coffee from his hands. “And I’m sorry I said you were the devil, and that you had halitosis, and cracked teeth—and for stabbing you with that knife.”
“When did you stab me?”
“Oh, sorry.” I shrugged. “Sometimes I confuse the really cheerful, happy daydreams with regular life.”
He took a wide step away from me. “Just out of morbid curiosity, did you stab me in the chest or the back?”
“The back.” I glared at him. “You know, that’s where you stab people who betray you, thus the term backstabber—”
He raised his hand. “I get it—don’t make me take back the coffee, Avery Bug.”
I choked on my next sip and nearly spit it out onto his nice white shirt.
He patted my back a few times, then rubbed it. “Are you okay?”
“Yup,” I wheezed. “Wrong tube.”
“Geez, you need the opposite of caffeine.”
“Why are you on the street? In front of Starbucks, and—oh, this is our building. I got turned around.” I frowned. “Huh, imagine that. I’m a total power walker.”
“I’m not high-fiving you”—he shook his head at my elevated hand—“for walking on two legs, even though for you I’m sure it’s a huge accomplishment.” He pointed to his briefcase. “I have something for you to review before our meeting with the rest of the execs.”
I hunched my shoulders and followed him into the building.
We were the only two people on the elevator.
Which was really unfortunate, but what would I have expected on a Saturday morning?
The annoying classical elevator music just made everything that much more irritating, grating on my already-frazzled nerves.
“Who were you talking to?” he asked without looking directly at me.
I licked my lips. “My boyfriend.”
He froze. “Your boyfriend?”
It was a total lie, but I couldn’t just say I was talking to the ex-fiancée he’d cheated on, now, could I?
“Yup . . . C-Carl.” Oh good, a stutter—that was new. Thanks, Thorn, for adding that to my already awesome conversational prowess.
“C-Carl?” He smirked. “With two Cs”?
“Laugh it up, jackass.” I shrugged. “He’s a . . . professional, um, dancer.”
“So you’re dating a male stripper?”
Of course, that would be the exact moment when the elevator doors opened and two nice elderly ladies with cute purses and tight chignons stepped on.
The company employed a lot of teachers to help with the online tutoring, and I was sure, by the horrified looks on their faces, the two ladies taught first grade and were just itching to red card me.
Not like I hadn’t spent most of my elementary-school days having my yellow card replaced with a red one for speaking out of turn.
“Good morning,” I said in my most cheerful voice.