Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Ha. Ha. No. I don’t give that information out to customers,” I lied. The truth was, no one had ever asked. “Would you like a burrito, sir?”
“I bet you’ll give out your name if it’ll mean a bigger tip,” Austin said with a smile that managed to be friendly and weirdly menacing at the same time. What a fuckwad. This was the guy who’d turned down Project Daisy Chain?
“Nope. He definitely won’t. Company policy,” Joey interjected. “We are alllll the Burrito Bandito, señor. Isn’t that right, everybody? Sing it with me! And free burrito coupons for whoever sings loudest! Our name is Burrito Bandito…”
Austin scowled at Joey but refused to be distracted by his singing. I could sense him searching his memory banks, and I second-guessed my decision not to triple-swipe my deodorant this morning. Would it be worse for him to remember me being with Bash? Or for him to somehow figure out my name and remember I was the guy he’d sent that rude rejection email, even after I’d taken the time to send him all my project notes?
Oh, who was I kidding? Both would be equally awful. I needed to get out of there, immediately.
I ducked behind the table so I could lean closer to my boss. “Lea, I’m really sorry, but I need to find a restroom. I’m not feeling so great.”
“But, Rowe—” she began.
Joey sent a quick glance in my direction and must have seen that I was planning a retreat. He danced around the table without missing a beat, jammed his sombrero on Austin’s head, then grabbed Austin’s hands and pulled the man into an impromptu burrito jig.
I didn’t wait for Lea to finish speaking. I ran out of the conference room and headed left down the hall past conference rooms and offices, all of which seemed to be occupied. It wasn’t until I got to a bank of elevators that I realized I had no idea where I was going. When the elevator dinged and the doors began to slide open, I skidded around the corner and found myself in a little reception area with a single sofa, an office phone, and a giant potted tree in the corner by a curtained window. Without pausing to think, I squeezed into the space between the tree and the curtain and took a deep, shuddering breath.
Who knew burrito delivery could be so hazardous to your health?
I pressed a hand to my stomach, turned my face to the wall, and told myself to calm down. I was fine. I wasn’t injured. Even my mustache was intact. All I had to do was stash my sombrero, and then I could escape—
“Another impressive move,” a deep, sexy, way-too-familiar voice said from behind me. “But Rowe, sweetheart, we’ve really got to stop meeting like this.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and locked down my muscles as every single cell in my body tried to jump backward into Bash’s arms. “I’m imagining this,” I told myself sternly. “When I turn around, I will be all alone. Or, possibly, the tree is speaking to me.”
“You’d rather talk to a tree than to me?” Bash asked softly.
I inhaled sharply and nearly whimpered when the fresh, expensive scent of his cologne assaulted me. I didn’t know shit about science, but I knew it had to be impossible for that smell to have imprinted on me in just a couple of days or for it to be so instantly arousing. I was glad the pantalones de charros I wore were constructed of thick enough fabric to hide my rapidly growing interest.
“Rowe, can we please talk? Look, if you don’t wanna talk about us, that’s fine. But I have questions for you about Project Daisy Chain.”
That got me to turn around. “Daisy Chain?” I repeated in surprise, scanning his face, searching for a hint that this was a trick.
His eyes roamed over me at the same time, from the bits of curl escaping my sombrero, down the exposed skin of my neck. Every place his eyes landed felt like a physical touch. And when his gaze finally landed on my mustache, his lips twitched up in that amused-against-his-will smile that would never not make me want to fall to my knees.
“Hi,” I breathed. I sounded besotted.
“Hey,” he replied, the lip twitch becoming a full-on smile. He darted a glance out to the corridor, where the burrito song was growing louder and louder, as if his employees had started roaming the halls in a lunchtime conga line. “Come with me so we can speak privately.” He held out a hand. “Trust me?”
This was an absolutely terrible idea, but there really was no decision to be made. If Sebastian Dayne held out a hand for me, I was going to take it.
He threaded our fingers together and pulled me toward the elevator, taking a second to check that the hallway was clear first. The elevator was already occupied, but the passengers’ conversation quickly cut off when they realized they’d been joined by someone from the board of directors… and a man in a fake mustache.