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She grins, deviously. “This job comes with perks.” Then she pats my knee. “Seriously, though. I hate to add cheese to this already cheesy discussion, but our friendship is way more important than anything work-related. This is way bigger than office stuff. You’re like a sister to me. I want to see you happy.”
“Well, you have a weird way of showing it.”
“This is going to be good for you. I swear.”
“You’re mother-henning me.”
“To the max.”
“I already have a mother.”
“Yes, and when I see Allegra, I’ll fill her in on my genius plot to set you up with Mr. Amazing. She’s going to love it. How is she, anyway? I haven’t seen her in a few days.”
“Head in the clouds, hands in a garden bed. Dirt on her knees. Probably singing. The whole shebang.”
Lizzy laughs. “She’s so cute. Hey, when you see her next, tell her those geranium cuttings she gave me are growing roots. I have them in jars on my windowsill, like she said.”
“Sure.” Speaking about my family reminds me that I have to call my mom back. She left me a voicemail sometime this morning.
Ack.
Voicemails.
There are probably about twenty on that sparkly pink executive assistant cell phone, which I left back at my desk.
“And can you tell her I tried her apple pie recipe?” Lizzy adds. “Eric said it was the best pie he’s ever tasted. The kiddos loved it, too.”
“Maybe you should call her yourself,” I grumble.
Lizzy smiles, not catching on to my misery. “Yeah, you’re right. I will. I should thank her myself and tell her she’s the Queen of Pies. Oh! Speaking of queens…”
She rummages in the tote back, propped against her desk, and pulls out a rolled-up Windsor Gazette.
“Read the article about the castle,” she says as she hands it to me. “Page two.”
“Yeah, right. If I have time,” I moan, my mind still on all the messages that are surely waiting for me. Plus, I have my upcoming mid-morning meeting with Brock.
At ten o’clock, I am due in his office.
He told me not to be late.
It was an order. How is it possible that I’m attracted to a guy who orders me around like Brock does?
Lizzy is asking me to try to see his soft side, but I’m not sure that’s worth my time. I’d rather ignore the hints of softness, like that adorable cheek-to-cheek photo that he took with Zoey. Those signs of a gooey, sweet center might lure me into treacherous territory. Because the bottom line, as far as I can tell, is that he is demanding, selfish, and bossy.
This crush is an illness, I think, as I make my way back to my desk.
Lizzy thinks it’s going to be good for me.
But I know better.
My comfort zone isn’t the rut she made it out to be. It’s my safe, cozy, Brock-free baseline. I want to go back to it.
At my desk, I set the newspaper aside. The article on page two—whatever it is—will have to wait. With a heavy sigh, I consider the tasks of the day.
Shipping emails.
Customer questions and complaints.
