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I lift my head. “You know I think you’re a powerful, beautiful goddess in all ways—but you are not great at pep talks.”
She raises both eyebrows now. “Oh. Is that what I’m supposed to be doing? I was only here to see if you knew where the paper clips are kept.”
I’m already standing up from my desk and tugging her into my office. “Well, you’re here now, so might as well stay awhile and impart your all-knowing wisdom to me.”
“But I really need to—oh, no, don’t shut the door. It’s so musty in here.”
“You get used to it quickly,” I say, practically shoving her into the chair in front of my desk. She looks at the armrests like if she touches them, she might come away with sludge on her sleeve. I turn to face her and hop up on my desk. Her lashes lower to assess my chambray daisy-printed overalls, with a yellow short-sleeve shirt underneath.
“Did you just come from milking cows?”
I gasp in offense and hook my thumbs around the straps. “These are stylish. I got them from the most fashionable store in the country.”
She looks skeptical. “Where?”
“Target.”
She rolls her eyes away from me. “Hopeless.”
“Baby, if this hopeless, I never want to be hopeful.” Nicole makes like she’s going to stand and leave. I hold out my hand. “No, wait! Stay. Please. I need your advice.”
“You have one minute of my time. Go.”
It’s a good thing that I’ve been training to go onSupermarket Sweepmy whole life and therefore turn on stopwatches periodicallyin my day just so I’m used to the sudden time crunch. I thrive under pressure.
I fill my lungs with so much air it makes Nicole cringe. But I need all the air I can get if I’m going to come clean and unload my entire romantic history on her. “I haven’t been able to do any real work for Derek yet because he’s sort of hazing me by making me do all this busy work instead. And it’s all because—”
“Let me stop you there and save us both the next fifty seconds,” she says, holding up a hand. “I’ve dealt with his type many times before. And the answer is simple: You need to beat his ass at his own petulant little game.”
“But how—”
Apparently, Nicole is feeling benevolent today because she continues right on talking. “You’re a grown woman with a career, and you don’t have time for men like him to mess around with it. If he wants a fight, give him a fight. But you play by your rules from now on.” She stands up with the authority of a commander addressing an army. “Believe me, Mac, sometimes the only way to gain a person’s respect is to demand it. You’re his agent. Act like it. Do your job regardless of what busy errand he tries to send you on, and if he fires you, his loss.”
I want to slow clap for her, but I refrain because she hated it when I did that to her last time. Plus she’s already standing up from the chair and walking toward the door. There’s no time to play around.
“It won’t look bad on me if he dissolves the contract?” I ask.
“Not if you explain the situation.” She pauses and hesitates before saying the next bit. “Plus—you have me on your side. I’ll make sure you’re not penalized.”
This changes everything.
“Okay,” I say with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Nicole. For everything.”
She nods and almost smiles. “And for the love of fashion and professionalism, please stop wearing clothes like that.”
“Never.” I hop off my desk and pat my thighs. “It has pockets.”
A look of agony crosses her face. “It keeps getting worse.”
“Careful, you’re starting to sound like Marty.”
Nicole grunts a dismissive laugh. “The difference being I have impeccable fashion sense and want to see you succeed. Marty wears out-of-date suits two sizes too big for him, still thinks he dresses like a god, and only criticizes your fashion to cut you down.” She pauses. “But I see your point. Wear what makes you happy, I suppose.”
The look on her face as she delivers that last line while walking out of my office tells me how painful it was for her to say. I chuckle while rounding my desk and take my seat again, this time pulling one foot up into the chair with me to think. I have to find a way to beat Derek at his own game. But how?
I pick up my pencil and tap it against my lips. Just as that five-minute sliver of sunlight bursts through my office, my phone starts ringing. Derek’s name flashes across my screen and I growl before answering.
“Hello, Derek Pender’s personal minion, how may I be of service?”
