揥hat抯 put you in such a sunny mood today??he asks, wearing his default grumpy frown.
揂m I in a good mood??I ask like I抦 not already dying of laughter inside.
揧ou are. I don抰 think I抳e ever seen you smile unless you were insulting me.?
揝orry. Just hungry. I got your breakfast.?I hand him the cup and white paper sack.
He looks at the items I just gave him and back at me slowly.
揕et me guess. You spit in my coffee??
揘o.?Only because I didn抰 think about it. That抯 not a bad plan for tomorrow.
揂re you sure? Miss Poe, if you抳e contaminated my coffee in any way, rest assured I will chuck your ass out the door. No matter how talented you are.?
He waits like he抯 expecting me to fall to my knees with some tearful confession.
揑t抯 everything you asked for. Nothing less,?I say with a nod.
There isn抰 much reason I need to be standing here. I should probably leave, but I keep hoping he抣l take a drink. Plus, the odds that I could get fired after he practically begged me for three months make things interesting, I guess.
He rips his desk drawer open in a huff and drops the paper sack inside.
Hmm. Saving it for later?
Maybe he really does snort cinnamon icing, and he抯 waiting to be alone with his precious before he breaks out the credit card.
揥hy aren抰 you eating the Regis roll while it抯 warm??I ask.
He stares at me for a minute.
揧ou spat on my roll??He sounds even angrier about that than he does the coffee.
揘ope梩his office has a one psycho limit, and it抯 not me. You抮e just paranoid,?I say with an exaggerated yawn.
Good thing, too, because he抯 hard to look at head-on right now.
There抯 something about him when he gets mad. He has that scary-hot thing going with the electric honey-brown eyes and granite shoulders and imposing jaw.
I抎 bet my next five Regis rolls that eighty percent of the female population would give up their sanity for a ride on him.
I抦 just not part of that eighty percent, even if I抣l admit he rocks the sleek alpha vibe.
Shame that such good looks are wasted on a selfish ogre.
揟hen why do you care when I eat my roll??he demands.
揑sn抰 it obvious? You stalked me out of the coffee shop and tried to bribe me over it. The next time you saw me, you bought up every Regis roll in the coffee shop like a middle school punk. But now you finally have a fresh roll and you just...shove it in your desk? What? Come to think of it, I never have seen you eat one.?
揑 told you, I have my reasons. They may or may not extend to eating.?
Huh? That抯 weird.
For a second, my brain goes horrible places that have nothing to do with my Poe genes. I抦 picturing my boss wearing nothing but that tie, the huge roll clenched in his hands, perfectly positioned in front of us?Dear God. Stop. Surely, he抯 above a bad reenactment of American Pie.
揗iss Poe??he snaps.
I jump.
揥hat the hell are you looking at??
I subtly shake my head in disbelief.
揧ou. You didn抰 even want it, I guess. You just had to prove you could get it.?
He shakes his head this time. 揑 had to prove something, all right. There抯 a little redhead in accounting. She wears low-cut dresses made for sin and she likes cinnamon rolls. I抦 dating her.?
For a brief moment, I want to slap this redheaded chick, and I don抰 know why.
Then I remember what the internet says about my boss and it抯 all I can do not to laugh.
揘ice try, but you can cut the crap. Google says you抮e undateable.?
Oh, what the hell did I just say? Dammit, Dakota, do you really want this discussion?
His grin could swallow me right up.
揙h, does it??
揘o桰 mean, I wasn抰 looking棓
揙f course you weren抰,?he says with an amused snort. 揂nd you called me a stalker...?
揌ey! Standard precautions. I was just trying to find out how crazy you actually are before I quit my job for this one.?
揌ow psychotic am I, Nevermore??His eyes sparkle when he smiles and梔amn, they抮e on my lips again, aren抰 they?
When he looks at me like that, this cool Seattle office turns into the Sahara.
Shrugging, I continue. 揧ou抮e a workaholic and extremely undateable, they say. But since that was clear from your mantrum, I don抰 care. I抦 not dating you. And I don抰 really care if you抮e a workaholic either as long as you pay me that bonus.?
揧ou抮e refreshingly honest. I told you what I need the roll for. Now what selfish asshole burned a hole in your heart??
I freeze, hating that we抮e back here again.
Hating more that I抦 still sensitive to the only man on the planet who抯 worse than Lincoln Burns.
揧ou didn抰 tell me crap. There抯 no chance you抮e dating a girl in accounting. You抮e too proud of your 憌ork culture?to mess it up by pouncing on a redhead with her boobs hanging out. Also, you抮e Captain Undateable, and even if you weren抰...there抯 no chance in hell she抎 have you.?
A smile twists his lips that almost scares me.
揌ot damn. Maybe I don抰 like your honesty as much as I thought,?he muses. 揊or the record, I thought you named me Captain Dipshit. It抯 hard keeping your insults together, isn抰 it??
I抦 about to fire back, but the moment of truth arrives.
He picks up the coffee and brings it to his lips.
Oh, yessiree. Here we go.
One second.
One sip.
That抯 all it takes before his face blanks out like he抯 just eaten a spoonful of fire ants.
He winces. He sputters. He swallows after the world抯 longest gurgle, hilariously forced.
Then his eyes flay me open with a slow, sharp look and he says, 揥onderful. I抳e never had coffee this good, Miss Poe. You抮e an absolute treasure for correcting my order. I抣l be sure to remember it when it抯 time for bonuses.?
Without flinching, I grin.
揟hrilled you enjoyed it. Sometimes you can teach an old hound new tricks. Bye, boss.?
揘evermore??
I stop, hating that it feels like that stupid name is growing on me like a messed up part of my identity here. A couple of others in marketing have started using it with laughs.
Still, there抯 a special ragey edge when it抯 coming from Burns.
揘ot my name,?I say coldly.
揚oe??
揃etter.?
揥hy shouldn抰 I fire you right now for that stunt??he growls.
揃ecause HR will tell you coffee isn抰 in my job description??I try, hoping like hell he isn抰 serious.
揧ou抮e a workout in patience.?
揅razy coincidence桰 could say the same about you.?I practically skip out of his office, more exhilarated than I should be.
Yes, I抦 being childish, but I抦 hardly the only one. I know if I talked to any boss like I talk to him, they should fire me on the spot, regardless of what抯 in my job description.
But I just can抰 help it.
He makes it so easy to loathe him with the fullness of my soul.
And he clearly hasn抰 fired me yet.
What does that mean? Is he a glutton for punishment or am I truly the butt of his bad jokes around here?
As soon as I sit down at my desk, Anna emails a few images for print ads she wants me to align with the copy in today抯 projects.
The first picture shows a groom running from the altar at full speed. The bride holds her skirts with both hands and chases after him. They抮e both smiling like they抮e high on helium.
Bad reminder of what I抦 doing here, of what this job really is...
I want to crawl under my desk and die.
I lived this scene.
Trust me, there was nothing cute about it.
Writing wedding copy梕ven for ridiculously good pay梞ust be punishment or vicious karma for some cardinal sin from a past life.
Maybe I really do have more in common with Edgar Allan than I realized.
Whatever. I抣l support the wedding industry because it抯 my job, but I抣l never buy into it.
I feel sorry for all the poor, blissfully ignorant souls who do.
The worst part is, I抦 blanking.
I have no clue how to write snappy copy for this image set.
Honestly, I wish I could forget images like these. The first thing that comes to mind is: Run, don抰 walk, away from the altar. RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN.