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“I told you, it wasn’t his fault. It also wasn’t anything to write home about,” I snarl.
“I mean...the people who pop into Wired Cup for a pickup order aren’t looking to rave about their handcrafted coffee, right? They just need a fresh cup to stay awake.”
Again, she puts our whole brand into words I wish weren’t accurate.
“And I’m hoping you can help change that.”
“I can,” she says flippantly. “But do I want to?”
I glare, hating that I like her confidence.
“My coffee would shake up your brand. But I haven’t said I’ll let it. And there’s one more thing you should know if you think you want me to work for you...” She trails off.
“What’s that? Don’t leave me in suspense.”
“I’ve thought it over and I’m just not fit to work in an office. I’m too stir-crazy. I can’t handle being hunched over spreadsheets in a cubicle, even if you pay me in solid gold.”
“You’re a VA. Isn’t it the same kind of work?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “How did you know that?”
“Destiny looked you up online to help me prepare for the interview. I also had my executive assistant pull your background.”
“Whatever. Well, VAs do that work, but for me, it’s only temporary and always remote. And part-time. I have a short attention span for screens. If it isn’t coffee, I’m easily bored.” She looks away and sighs before meeting my eyes again. “To you, I’m sure that’s a huge flaw. To me, it’s normal.”
I lean back in my chair, swiveling away slightly as I catch the tiny hint of worry that creases her face the longer I’m silent.
“So it’s a problem—” she starts, but I cut her off.
“You don’t need to worry about that here, Miss Angelo. You’ll be getting your hands dirty exclusively in the lab.”
“Lab?” she echoes.
“The research and development department is in the basement of this very building. They have a state-of-the-art laboratory set up, complete with a mock storefront to see how practical roasts are for the retail shops.”
She gasps.
Goddamn. Why does that sound have my fingers grasping the edge of my desk, shocked by how sexual it seems in my ears?
“Wait. You want me to work in an actual lab, trying out new brews all day, and...you’ll pay me for that?” Her voice goes low, quiet, suspicious.
I relax, swiveling to face her again.
Now that I’ve got her attention...
“A hundred and twenty-five thousand to start. Based on your experience, you’d qualify for a little more than our average senior development technician,” I say.
The amber shimmer in her eyes when they catch the light annoys me, the dreams flaring in those wide, soulful eyes. I can’t peel my gaze off her, dammit.
She mouths the number to herself again, her eyes going wide.
“Very funny. Now what’s the catch?” she asks.
“Catch?” I repeat.
“This is too good to be true. There’s always some awful fine print, isn’t there?”
“It’s not that good, and there’s no hidden risk, I assure you.” I pause, staring at her seriously, enjoying this talk with a human being rather than a walking attitude. “You make damn good coffee, Eliza Angelo. My company needs damn good coffee. Putting you in a cubicle would be a disservice to us both. If you can refine what was in that mason jar for commercial use, you’ll have ample leeway to experiment to your heart’s content. This company will even consider acquiring distinct brews from you at an additional licensing fee to compensate you for your talent.”
She leans back in her chair with a loud breath. Her shoulders relax for the first time since she walked in.
“Wow. I’ll admit that it sounds like a dream come true. Maybe I should quit calling you a spoiled prince?” There’s that damnably sarcastic grin of hers again.
“That would be wise,” I whisper.
“But you were Prince Jerkwad to Wayne.”
“The not-boyfriend you keep mentioning every other sentence?” I tease, then instantly regret it.
“If only you weren’t coffee shop Satan.” A second later, she stuffs her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Not out loud.”
I snort.
“With everything else you’ve said, that’s the last thing you should apologize for. I’ll let it slide this time—if you tell me what the hell it is you want.”
She looks down with a rolling shrug.
“Well. You’re offering me something I’ve never even dreamed of. I didn’t think such a job—basically doing my hobby, for pay—even existed. The other shoe has to drop sometime.”
“You’re right,” I snap off, loving the startled flicker in her eyes. “Here’s that shoe coming down on you like a bug—you’ll be reporting directly to me. I’ll expect weekly updates.”
For a second, she’s frozen in abject horror.
I wonder if I’ve pushed my luck too far when she slumps back. It’s like part of her soul left her body in that sigh.
“I can’t do it,” she whispers, standing up abruptly and heading for the door.
