Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Sincerely,
Grant Lexington
Great, just great—leave it up to Harold to give me something neutral. I probably should have shut my laptop and cooled off. But the last forty-eight hours had brought me to a boiling point. So I typed back, not bothering with the formality of a greeting or anything.
Great. Harold Bickman hates women almost as much as he hates foot tapping. Oh…unless he thinks he has a chance to bang you—like he does my replacement. Thanks for nothing.
***
Two days later, on Thursday morning, I was no less bitter when I arrived at the office. I was, however, almost forty-five minutes early since I had no idea how long it took to get to the office during rush-hour traffic. The roads were always empty when I left for work at four-thirty in the morning. Since I wouldn’t put it past Bickman not to allow me in early, I decided to go next door to the coffee shop. It would give me a chance to mentally prepare for cleaning out my desk, and dealing with him, too.
I ordered a decaf, since my nerves were shot already, and went to sit at a corner table. Whenever I was feeling stressed, I watched Instagram video clips from the Ellen show. They always cracked me up, and that, in turn, helped me relax. I clicked on a funny clip where Billie Eilish scared Melissa McCarthy, and I laughed out loud. Looking up from my phone when it ended, I was caught off guard to find a man standing next to me.
“Do you mind if I share your table?”
I looked him up and down. Tall, gorgeous, expensive suit…probably not a serial killer. Then again, my ex always had perfectly tailored suits, too.
I squinted. “Why?”
The man looked to his left and then his right. When his greenish gray eyes returned to meet mine, I thought I detected the slightest twitch at the left corner of his lip. “Because all of the other seats are taken.”
I surveyed the room. Oh. Shit. They were all taken now. Lifting my purse off the table, I nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t realize the place had filled up. I thought… Well, never mind. Please, help yourself.”
That lip made the slightest twitch again. Did he have a tic, or was I amusing him?
“I said Excuse me, but you didn’t seem to hear. You were engrossed in what you were doing.”
“Oh. Yeah. Lots of work. Busy, busy.” I clicked to close YouTube and opened up my email.
The handsome guy unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down in the seat across from me. He lifted his coffee cup to his lips. “The one with Will is my personal favorite.”
My brows furrowed.
He smirked. “Smith. On Ellen. I couldn’t help but notice what you were watching. You were smiling. You have a beautiful smile, by the way.”
I felt my cheeks heat, but not because of the compliment. I rolled my eyes. “So I lied. I wasn’t working. You didn’t have to call me out on it.”
His little smirk turned into a full-blown grin, yet there was still something very cocky about it.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have an arrogant smile?” I asked.
“No. But then again, I haven’t seemed to use it too much the last few years.”
I tilted my head. “That’s a shame.”
His eyes roamed over my face. “So why did you lie about working?”
“Honestly?”
“Sure. Let’s try that route.”
I sighed. “It was a gut reaction. I just recently lost my job, and I don’t know… I guess I felt like a loser sitting here watching Ellen clips.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a newscaster for Lexington Industries—or at least I was until a few days ago. I did the early-morning segment.”
Mr. Doesn’t Smile Often didn’t respond the way most people did when I told them I was on TV. They usually raised their brows and had a million questions. But it sounded way more glamorous than it was. Yet the man across the table didn’t seem impressed. Or if he was, he didn’t show it. Which I found curious.
“And what do you do that you wear a fancy suit and yet can sit in a coffee shop so leisurely at…” I looked at the time on my phone. “…nine forty-five in the morning?”
That little twitch was back. He seemed to like my sarcasm.
“I’m the CEO of a company.”
“Impressive.”
“Not really. It’s a family business. So it’s not like I started at the bottom.”
“Nepotism.” I sipped my coffee. “You’re right. I’m a lot less impressed now.”
He smiled again. If what he’d said about not doing it often was really true, it was a damn shame…because those full lips and that cocky smile could melt hearts and win poker games.
“So tell me about getting fired,” he said. “That is, if you don’t have to get back to all that work you were doing on your phone.”