Page 80 of Company Ink

"I'd go by myself but seeing as I'm such a novice, I'm afraid I won't know what to order," he smirks. "I need a guide."

"You want me to be yourtaco guide?" I cross my arms, entertained by his logic. "One day, Blake, we're going to have to take the training wheels off. I won't always be here to be your culinary captain."

"But that day is not today, so grab your jacket, Captain Cassandra, and let's go." Blake checks his watch. "I have approximately fifty-four minutes until I need to be in a meeting with a man who is single-handedly making me wish I never became a lawyer."

I grab my jacket off the hanger. "Mr. Wagner? I thought you liked him?" I ask as we head to the elevator.

"Oh no, Elliot is fine. I'm talking about Pierre Allard, he's this uppity Frenchman who wants to expand his business to America." Blake presses the button down to the lobby. "No matter how many contracts we draw up for him, he always comes back with edits. I'm almost on the verge of telling him to find a new firm."

"If he's such a problem, why don't you?"

Blake chuckles. "Because if we land this account, it'll be beneficial to all employees. It'd be selfish to deny his business."

"How admirable," I tease. "Looking out for us little people and they say that you're a tyrant."

"People say I'm atyrant?" he asks, raising an up eyebrow as the elevator doors open. "I'd like those names please."

I bite my lip.Stupid big mouth. "I'm just joking," I lie. "Everyone loves you. Best boss ever."

Blake rolls his eyes. "Nice try, Cassandra, but I'm aware of how my employees view me. They think I'm demanding and strict." He shrugs, unbothered. "And they're right, I am, but I have to be. There's no room for error in our line of work, especially not with multimillion-dollar deals."

"That seems like a lot of pressure," I muse as we turn the corner and begin making our way down to the waterfront.

"It is," he agrees in a defeated tone. "It requires a lot of sacrifices. Like weekends for example, or a social life."

"You don't workeveryweekend...do you?" I ask bewildered. "You have days off,right?"

Blake blinks a couple of times. "Days...off? Huh, I don't think I know what that means."

I nudge him slightly. "You must be kidding. If you work every day, when do you have time for yourself?"

Blake chuckles. "Usually between 10 pm and 5 am if I'm lucky."

My mouth drops. "That's insane, likeactuallyinsane. What's the point of working so hard if you don't get to enjoy the fruits of your labor? Don't you have hobbies? What about travel?"

"I try to take thirty-minutes out of my day to read," Blake says matter-of-factly then grins. "But sometimes, when I'm feelingreallycrazy, I watch amovie."

I gasp, covering my mouth. "Amovie? Oh my God, Blake Pearson, that issimplyscandalous!" My eyes shift from side to side. "You mustn't say that out loud! The lawyer police might hear you!"

Blake shakes his head, laughing. "I know, I'm such a rebel."

"Regular James Dean," I joke as we stop outside of a food truck. We both glance up to read the menu. "Hmm...everything looks so good."

"The menu is in Spanish, Cassandra," Blake notes, squinting his eyes. "How do you know what's what."

"Oh, Blake," I sigh. "Sweet, naive Blake. I might not know how to speak Spanish, but I know the most important words, such as—" I point to the menu. "Carne Asada, Carnitas, Adobada, and..."Oh, this could be fun. "Lengua." I smile at the food truck attendant. "Two of each please."

"What did you order?" Blake asks, handing the attendant two twenty-dollar bills.

"Shh...don't ask questions," I say, taking a number and sitting down at the plastic table. "First you eat, then I tell you. It'll be like a game."

"You're making me nervous, Cassandra..." Blake eyes the food truck.

"Don't be! You'll love it!"I hope.

Our order comes out in a few minutes and Blake brings it to our table. Because I seem to lack the lady gene, I devour my tacos in ten minutes while Blake carefully eats his, struggling to keep the insides from spilling out.

"Blake, just shove it in your mouth!" I plead. "This is painful to watch. We aren't eating at Altura. It's tacos—shove."

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