Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Now for the good news: we’ll be back in time for work Monday morning. See you at the airport.
Magnus Heron
CEO of HeronComm Inc.
Kill me.
And that last line makes me want to gag. Because the world might end if I wasn’t back in time to fetch his flipping coffee.
“What. The. Crap.” It’s all I can babble out.
Poor Paige looks at me like I’ve just snapped, and honestly?
Maybe I have.
I hit respond and start typing out my resignation.
“What is it? What are you doing? Brina?” Her voice cracks with worry.
“He...he wants me to pack my shit and be ready to go to the airport at four in the freaking morning on my day off—tomorrow! Probably so I can be his gofer all weekend.”
“Oh, no. I didn’t jinx you—I swear!” She holds up her hands with a defensive smile, claiming innocence.
“Relax. I’m not blaming you.”
I may be superstitious, but I’m not a huge bitch about it.
“I’m so sorry, but wait! What are you doing?”
“What else?” I don’t look up from the screen. “I’m giving him a two-word resignation. Guess what the first word is? It starts with a big fat ‘F.’”
“Brina, no! Don’t do it.” Paige lunges over the couch and body-slams me, wrestling the phone away. “Wait an hour. If you still want to do it, fine. But you can’t just throw away two hundred thousand dollars a year without thinking it through, lady. Yes, he’s a jackass, a tyrant, and a stuck-up suit, but if you can make it even six months working for him...you’ll probably have a gold key to any job in the city.”
Why, why, why does she have to be the voice of reason?
“You’re right,” I grind out, taking a deep breath. “Six months is roughly a hundred and eighty days. I’ve got five down. I can do this...I think.”
I pause, imagining those days stretched out before me, longer than a Kardashian’s eyelashes. Paige looks like she wants to give me a big hug, and that’s when I crack.
“Oh, what the hell am I saying? I can’t do it! I just...” I reach for my fork, considering a good place to stab myself and end this torment.
“You can, girl, and you will. Think about it. Think about the money. When you get your first paycheck, it has to get easier. I promise.”
Her big green eyes catch my gaze, and for a second we share this almost sisterly mind-meld where I try to steal a little of the knock ’em out energy Paige offers.
A slow sigh slips past my lips. I’m talked down from the ledge. For now.
She’s right. Grabbing my phone, I head for my room.
“Hey, where are you going?” Paige asks.
“To pack my stuff for this circus,” I say. “You won me over.”
8
Lucky Penny (Magnus)
I don’t relish the idea of parking my Tesla at the airport, but I sent Armstrong to fetch Sabrina and the rest of my team. There’s no time for too many stops.
I’m also not having anyone climbing into a cab alone with a driver neither of us knows at four a.m. with a high-stakes meeting on the line.
I leave the house at three thirty because I’m driving across town to make a single pit stop before O’Hare International. Sabrina Bristol has no clue how much she owes me.
Then again, I owe her for saving the Woof Meow Chow account, even if I’ll never admit it to her face. That’s the only reason I’m doing this.
Yeah right, Mag Heron, you’ve turned into a sucker, a prickling voice whispers in the back of my mind. Desperate to make a woman you can never have smile like she doesn’t want to shank you in the throat.
I park my car in front of Sweeter Grind and dash in.
The place smells more like sugar than coffee. How does she even drink this stuff?
“Can I help you, Mr. Heron?” the barista asks, a hipster kid with a bushy beard and more piercings than freckles. “Wow, it’s really you! I didn’t believe it when the boss said we were opening half an hour early.”
“I need a large cinnamon latte and a bear claw to go,” I snap off, throwing my Centurion card on the counter with a metallic clatter. “And if there’s a way to keep that drink extra insulated, I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course. What kind of bear claw?”
“There are kinds of bear claws?” I ask. Who the hell has time for this?
“Sure, the filled bear claws are almond butter, cream cheese, and huckleberry jam—a Heart’s Edge favorite. Then we have the original that isn’t filled at all. They’re all there in the case if you want to have a look. That always helps some folks decide.” He smiles and points to a pastry case.
I blink like a fish out of water. People actually put mental effort into choosing bear claws?