Page 23 of Dirty Rich Cinderella Story

“Actually,” I say, leaning forward and lowering my voice. “I’ll tell you now.”

He leans in closer. His eyes light. “Tell me,” he urges.

I could say “I let a stranger spank me last night” but that’s my only dirty secret, and I want it just for me. Instead I say, “You have a girlfriend,” thinking of Sally, who joins him here every Saturday morning.

He wiggles a brow. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Thankfully, a line is forming, and I motion him to the end of the bar. “Your regular order is ready, and I charged your account.”

“We’ll invite Sally,” he suggests.

“No and go,” I order, and then shout out, “Next!” to force the issue.

He grimaces but leaves, and I don’t really think that he’s serious about a hook-up anyway. I certainly hope not for Sally’s sake, which momentarily conjures a memory of Cole’s guttural “I fucking hate him” about his cheating father.

My next customer steps to the counter and I shake off the memory, and the line churns endlessly it seems until finally my shift is over. Karen, the “coffee-making girl” as she calls herself, makes me a white mocha and I have about fifteen minutes to drink it before I have to change, and head to my day job. Cup in hand, I round the bar to find Cat sitting in the corner, where she’s been since I avoided her upon my arrival, certain somehow she’d know I’ve now been spanked. It’s a silly notion, but I can’t shake it. Nevertheless, she’s my boss and friend, and I walk in her direction.

“Good morning, my coffee queen,” she says, blowing blonde hair from her pretty green eyes. “Who shouldn’t be a coffee queen at all.”

“We do what we have to do,” I say.

“Except you don’t have to do it anymore,” she assures me.

“Cat—”

She holds up her hands. “Before you tell me you aren’t taking my charity, I need help. My column was officially syndicated and I’m co-authoring on the book I told you about last night.”

“You syndicated! Oh my God. That’s incredible. I’m so happy for you. Seriously. No one deserves this more than you.”

“I’m excited but overwhelmed and so is Reese. He has his merger and a case that is heating up. We talked last night, and we agree. He can’t co-write the new book with me. I need a full-time research assistant and Reese talked to one of the consortium members and he said you in this role looks good to the board.”

If only I could afford to take it, and I hate so much that it’s just not an option. “Cat,” I breathe out. “I can’t—”

“Three times what I’m paying you now, but you have to work obsessively with me,” she says. “There’s no room for the other jobs. I need you. And you’ll earn the money. If Reese needs research help, I need you to cross over.”

I swallow hard, thinking of her offer last night to help me with my mother’s medical bills. “I know what you’re doing,” I say. “I love you, but no. I decline.”

Her jaw sets. “I’m going to put an ad out for the job and give it to someone else at this same pay, which means I’ll have to let you go. Is that what you want?”

I lean forward and lower my voice. “I’m not on the stand, counselor,” I say, knowing her well enough to know when she slides into her attorney persona. “You aren’t going to come at me like that and change my mind.”

“It’s the truth,” she says. “I need help and I need help now. Take the job.”

“Promise me that this isn’t about charity.”

“I promise. I need you. I’ll email you a formal offer with the salary and benefits. Reese is going to piggy-back you onto his company benefit plan. Say yes. You won’t be sorry.”

Somehow, she’s chosen the exact words Cole used when encouraging me to let him spank me. And I’m not sorry I said yes. Not sorry at all and so I do it again. I say, “Yes.”

“Yes?” she queries.

“Yes,” I confirm.

She grins and I grin, and as silly as it seems, somehow Cole is a part of this moment. Or maybe it’s not silly at all. He’s a part of a change in my life, a shift, that I feel happening. I change clothes and Cat walks with me toward the courthouse, all the while plans are being made for my new job. I leave her at the door of her building with the promise I’m giving notice today.

She enters her building and I start walking toward the corner where I first ran into Cole. I suck in a breath, some part of me—no, all of me—wanting him to be there when I know that in morning light I’d been his charity case. It wouldn’t be what it was last night.

I round the corner and run into a hard chest. I suck in air and look up to find a good-looking man with dark brown hair, and brown eyes.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” I lie, because the truth is, I’m not okay. I murmur an apology and rush past him, because he’s not Cole. But in my fairy tale, we don’t end how we did this morning. One day, I’ll just happen to walk around the corner and run into Cole, and I’ll be an attorney who won’t look like someone chasing his money, because I’ll have my own.

One day. Or never. He doesn’t even live in New York City.

Sometimes the right people meet at the wrong time.

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