“What, that’s it? That’s all you’ve got? ‘Oof’?”
Gabriel shrugged. “I’m not your dad. I’m not going to tell you who you can and can’t sleep with. If you’d asked me a week ago, I would’ve told you not to put yourself in a sticky situation, but from the look of things, it’s too late. Tell me, though—is this going to fuck things up? Do I need to take over Paragon Plaza? You don’t have much time left.”
“No.” Des snapped and straightened his spine reflexively, like he’d have to warn Gabriel off. “It’s fine, I’ll handle it. Lenny’s the only holdout, and I can get her myself. Cami has nothing to do with it.”
Gabriel’s head cocked in consideration as he absorbed what Des said. “Sure. But ladies don’t generally like it when you taketheir jobs.” Des pinched his mouth into a thin line. “She doesn’t know, does she?” He said nothing, and Gabriel sighed heavily. “Oh, kid, you’re in for a world of hurt.”
“I’ll handle it,” he said again.
Gabriel pushed to his feet, then scooped his stress ball off the floor where it had rolled. “If you say so.” He tossed the ball to Des, who caught it in his right hand. “I’m gettin’ outta here. Offices make me claustrophobic.” He started for the door and stepped out into the hallway before checking his steps and poking his head back into Des’s office. “Just, tell me one thing.” Des raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever considered getting a girlfriend who doesn’t screw with your job? Just curious, ‘cause you’ve got a bit of a streak—Hey!”
Des threw the stress ball at his head, but, sadly, Gabriel ducked just in time for it to whiz right past him into the lobby.
“That was aggressive.” He held up a finger, the gesture halfway between a ‘wait a minute’ and a ‘calm the hell down.’
Des fished an empty soda bottle out of his trash and started to take aim.
“This is a hostile workpl—” The bottle whooshed toward him, and Gabriel dove behind the door for cover. “Okay, I’m going! Touchy.”
19
Des threw himself into work. After his “discussion” with Gabriel, he’d made it his personal mission to track down Lenny Seaver and go into hard sell mode. Cami was a complication—a delightful one, but a complication nonetheless—and he couldn’t afford to let whatever was going on with them affect his job. This project was too important. The fact that he could barely concentrate without being distracted by the memory of her body clenching around his cock was beside the point.
Tristan wouldn’t cough up Lenny’s phone number when he stopped by the store that evening, and it felt too much like taking advantage to ask Cami. But Tristan did offer the tidbit that Lenny had said she needed to grocery shop. Given that she either biked or walked everywhere, it left one convenient option. So Des once again left his bike parked in front of Sex on the Beach and headed toward the Vons on Broadway.
He was luckier than he’d anticipated, coming across Lenny on the way there. She biked toward him with a sleek neon pink helmet on her head and a wagon full of reusable grocery bags hitched to her cycle.
“Lenny!” he called, waving as he stepped into her path. “Don’t hit me, please!”
“Then get out of the way,” she snarked, but she braked regardless, first slowing and letting the bike coast, then halting altogether. “Are you stalking me? If you have time to prowl California looking for me, you need a better job, kid.”
She was wearing a pair of odd, very wide-legged pants that cut off mid-shin and looked like they’d be a danger where bike chains were concerned, with a flowy tunic in forest green. She’d also crammed some kind of beret under her bike helmet. It was a ridiculous look overall, but he was sure if he said that aloud he’d get clocked, so he opted to stay mum on the subject.
“Right now, Lenny, you are my job,” he said instead.
She sighed and climbed off her bike. Then, after unclipping her helmet, she slung it over the handlebars of the bicycle and began to push so Des could keep up.
“What do you want then?” she prompted as he fell in step beside her. “Let’s get the sales pitch over with.”
“I know you’re getting sick of me. Hell, even I’m getting sick of me.” He took a deep inhale, blew it out. Lenny turned her gaze on him and started to bore an intent hole in his temple. “Adrien Holdings isn’t going to let this go, though. The rest of the plaza is on board. You’re the only hold-out.”
“Traitors,” she murmured.
“Nah, they’re not. They just know a good deal when they see it.” He didn’t look, but if he did, she would be rolling her eyes. “I talked to Mr. Adrien today, and I got him to agree to bump up the offer. I can get you an extra hundred thousand.” He paused, letting the number settle in. “That’s more than the other stores in the plaza, and we both know, your shop isn’t the most desirable one there.”
Lenny scoffed. “We both also know storefront desirability has nothing to do with the offer. Don’t play me, kid.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s not nice to dupe the elderly.”
“Oh, you better watch it, big shot, or I’ll?—”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waved a hand airily between them. “You’ll knock my block off, or you’ll tear a strip off my hide, or whatever else they did to naughty kids in the 1930s.”
She socked him hard in the bicep, and he flinched, rubbing at the spot she’d punched.
“Okay! You’re a fierce, feisty young woman, I get it. But the fact of the matter is that your store is a lot of work. It takes your time, and sure, you’re bringing in a profit, but is it enough to make the effort worthwhile? You pay wages, rent, taxes, inventory costs. The list goes on. The check you’d get from the buyout would be more than the profit you’d make for the next five years at least, and that’s not even taking into account that you wouldn’t have those expenses to cut into the money. Without those, you’ve just got—what, groceries, credit cards, and rent for your place? Health insurance premiums? That’s a fraction of what you’re paying out keeping the store up and running.”
“I’ve got some other, bigger expenses,” she said.
