揝orta. Technically, I guess it抯 psycho-boss. The guy tries not to be a twenty-four-seven asshat, and when he tries to be nice...somehow, he抯 just worse. Or it抯 just me. After last year, I抦 overly sensitive with weddings. I抦 also not great at the whole forgiveness thing, especially when it involves dumb remarks from a dangerously handsome, powerful billionaire with my future in his hands. Not forgiving might be safer.?
揧ou knew he was an attractive jerk when you took the job. Too bad you can抰 get hazard pay for that.?
揑 know,?I say glumly.
揝o why did you do it??
揌uh??I shake my head. 揑 guess it just...seemed like the next logical step. I couldn抰 be a lowly assistant with a sucky salary for the rest of my life.?
揑 think there抯 more to it than that. You could抳e gotten other jobs in this city, Dakota, but you chose to stick it out.?She takes the mug and sips. 揂lso, it抯 a nice sunny day and we抮e not wasting it. How about we talk it out on a bike ride??
揜eally??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抯 in full coffee mad scientist mode.
She grins and nods. 揧es! Let抯 go.?
揕et抯 ride to Sweeter Grind first. My treat.?
揑 just made you coffee.?She gestures frantically at the cup.
揂nd it抯 great. But hardly anyone goes to Sweeter Grind for the coffee over other places here. It抯 all about the baked goods and the atmosphere.?
揟rue. Okay, I抦 in.?
Ten minutes later, we抮e bustling downstairs to retrieve our bikes.
揝o what did the human dildo do this time??Eliza asks.
揥e 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.
揋od, the nerve. You should have asked him how a man with no game sells so much shit to women.?
I laugh hard. She抯 in fine form today.
揑f I had your brain, I would have. He had it coming. Only, he called me up last night trying to apologize...?
揂t 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.
揟wo Regis rolls, please.?
揑抦 sorry,?the girl behind the counter says with a wince. 揥e just ran out.?
揂gain??My eyes bug out. 揥ait, don抰 tell me. A tall, growly guy with a black Centurion card??
She laughs. 揌ow抎 you know? We had half a dozen left about ten minutes ago. Same guy bought 抏m all up.?
The bosshole. I抦 a thousand percent sure as soon as she confirms.
揇id he have mocha-brown eyes??
She giggles. 揧eah. He was pretty built. The guy looked like he could rip you in two, except I抳e seen him before and he抯 usually wearing a three-piece suit梟ot today.?
Eliza and I exchange a slow, agonized look.
I hate that I wonder what Lincoln Burns is wearing, too.
揌e used to come in and just buy a few rolls at a time, but now he抯 like...hoarding them? He buys at least half a dozen Regis rolls a few times a week now,?the barista says.
Eliza抯 gaze never leaves me.
揟hat抯 Captain McGrowly, all right,?I tell her. 揂nd I think we抳e found the source of his superpower.?
What the actual hell, though? Is his mom a cinnamon roll serial killer if she doesn抰 get her fix?
揑 have no idea, but he really likes his Regis rolls,?the barista says. 揌e抯 been coming around for about a year. Do you want to try something new? The apple turnovers are good.?
I nod. 揧eah, we抣l take turnovers. Do you have any idea where he goes when he leaves??
I抦 too curious. This is a man who doesn抰 take sugar in his coffee and stashed the goods in his drawer when I brought them.
The barista shrugs. 揑 don抰 know. Sometimes he comes in with a driver, but when it抯 nice out like this, he takes off on foot. I think he was heading for the park today.?
揑s there anything between here and the park??
揂nything you抎 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抯 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.
揝o what抯 the plan??she asks.
揘o clue. I say we eat our turnovers and enjoy the spring day.?
揇on抰 you want to find out what he抯 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.
揝ure, but...it doesn抰 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抰 the best excuse.?
揑 vote we live a little, Dakota, and my vote counts more,?she says with a grin. 揥e抣l stay back so he can抰 see us. He has a head start. He may not even be there anymore.?
揗aybe...?I hate how good she is at luring me in.
揑t抯 Saturday! And it抯 not like we have anything else to do besides enjoy the weather,?Eliza says.
揇on抰 make me regret this,?I say.
It抯 a quick ride to the park.
I抳e been to the edge of this place a few times before, this open green field with a wooded area at the back. At least what counts for wooded with a few lingering copses of trees in the city.
Once you get past the entrance and a little playing field, the open area is covered in row after row of tents, where the homeless camp out.
We stop and I scan our surroundings. None of the people on the benches or milling around the edge of the park fit Lucifer抯 description.
揘o sign of him yet. Let抯 hide the bikes and stay close to the wooded area.?I hop off my bike.
Eliza scans the encampment. 揂re you sure that抯 a good idea??
She has a point. The bikes could be jacked and sold to buy food or supplies by any bad actors in the camp. 揥e抣l stay close enough to see them.?
She nods and we move behind the trees, hiding our bikes in some brush.
揟his isn抰 the kind of park I抎 expect a dude with a fashion empire to frequent,?I say, my brows knitting together.
揥hat? You mean you抮e surprised your billionaire boss hangs out in a tent city? I mean, Seattle抯 no stranger to places like this梚t sucks and I feel for the people who live here梑ut yeah, it抯 pretty weird for Mr. Moneybags to come strolling through here. I wonder why??
Your guess is as good as mine.
We trudge on for a few more minutes before Eliza stops, grabbing my arm.
揌ey, wait, I think I see him!?She extends her arm, pointing in front of us and to the left.
揌ow do you know? You抳e never seen him.?I follow her finger with my eyes and I don抰 spot him at first.
揑抦 guessing he抯 the only person here who looks like an Instagram thirst trap? That guy fits the description梙oly mchottie.?
Sure enough.
Lincoln stands in all his sculpted glory, dressed in dark-blue jeans that accent his powerful hips and a button-down shirt with military shoulder traps. There抯 a Sweeter Grind cup pressed to his mouth.
A few seconds later, he sits on a box next to a man with an overgrown beard and a face smudged with dirt.
Lincoln pulls a cinnamon roll out of the bag and then hands the rest to the bearded guy. They both have coffees from Sweeter Grind.
The entire scene does not compute.
I think my brain crashes and reboots several times before I realize my heart stopped beating seconds ago.
I might be watching the sweetest, most unexpected thing ever.
He抯 feeding the homeless.
Guilt crashes over me in a tidal wave. Was he planning to feed a homeless guy this entire time with that roll I wouldn抰 sell him?
揇akota, is it him??
揧ep. Good eye,?I say, blinking. 揧ou抮e looking at the dude who throws fits over Regis rolls. I guess he has coffee and pastries with homeless people. I抣l never figure him out.?
揗aybe he isn抰 as big of a jerkwad as you thought??
Hmm.
Is it possible?
He did call me up yesterday to apologize. But then again, if he hadn抰 been such a nosy prick in the first place, he wouldn抰 have needed any sorries.
?..I don抰 know,?I say, realizing I don抰 really know anything about him.
揟hey抮e talking about a kid,?Eliza says.