Page 17 of Never Say Yes To Your Best Friend (I said Yes)

She’s making time in her heels. They’re more of the functional, basic kind, suitable for walking around on them for long hours, not the sky-high, fashionable, liable-to-break-your-ankle variety. Her outfit screams business casual, from her black pencil skirt to her cream colored knit sweater. And god, that hair. Her natural hair. It looked lovely under the coffee shop lights, but outside, it now looks like copper-gold lightning crashing down from the sky.

Shit, no, that’sreallightning.

There is no sun out here. The sky is beyond steel or slate and straight into furious gray-black.

“Evilla, wait!” I’m chasing after her for a different reason now.

She’s powerwalking down the sidewalk, and she doesn’t seem to be taking any note of the gathering storm. I notice immediately because there are jagged lightning forks up in the cloudy, dark-as-midnight sky.

A loud clap of thunder roars through the sky, bouncing off the buildings around us, and Evilla practically jumps two feet in those sturdy heels. She yelps and stops dead. I reach her right as the sky opens up. I’ve heard that saying before when it comes to rain, but I don’t think I’ve ever been in a downpour like this one. Roaring? That was the thunder half a second ago, but now, this rain is roaring like an industrial monolith. It doesn’t happen gently. It comes all at once, like unabated grief.

“I don’t want you to quit your job. That’s not why I came to get coffee with you.”

Her eyes flash with lightning of their own. This woman is all sass and alsodo me a favor and kiss my whole freaking ass,douchebag. And honestly, I would. I would kiss her ass if she wanted me to.

Fuck. I don’t need to sport a full-on hard-on right here in the middle of one hell of a storm.

“You didn’t come to coffee with me. You bought the place where I work because you wanted to make good on your threats. But I’m not here to play that game. You’re sick and twisted and…I still maintain that you are quite nutless when it comes to your parents. You’re how old? Grow up. Do it fast because you’re the one manning this pudding ship now, and there are many people here, good people, who depend on you.”

She tries to shove past me, but I put a hand gently on her arm. “Please.” If she quits, I might never see her again. Anything I do to try and produce another meeting will likely only result in a restraining order. “You’re right. Therearegood people here, and they deserve to have this company be every bit as successful as it ever was and more. That’s my goal.”

Her frown could split me in half if it were an axe. You know, good old axing frowns. Off with my head right here in the street. “You wanted me to quit. You mucked this up. You’re a royal mucker. I might add you’re also something else that rhymes with that word, but I promised myself I’d take the higher road here. You already think I’m some uncouth individual, but I’m not. I’m not, and this is proof. I’m going to do this in a dignified manner. I wish you luck with your new acquisition. I hope, for the sake of all the people who make this their living and their passion, that everything works out. I wish them success, if not you. Specifically, not you, but I think the company and you are tied together now, and there’s nothing I can do about that. You don’t deserve this place. That’s all I’m going to say. Pudding was a dream for so many people. It was more than just a living for me. That’s something you’re never going to understand. So, good day, bad sir. Have the life you deserve.”

She shakes my hand off and burns up the sidewalk, giving me a full view of how those small heels still accentuate the fine muscles in her long legs, her very nicely shaped bottom, and the way her hips roll very nicely with every angry step.

Do something. Don’t just stand here, staring at her bum. Move.

I catch up with her right at the building’s front door. We’re both a sopping mess. I can’t say I look good, but even drenched, she is breathtaking.

She wipes her soaked hair off her wet forehead and huffs at me. Water droplets cling to her nose and eyelashes and slide down her cheeks while her bow lips flatten out in an expression that is pure displeasure. “I said good day.”

“I’m just trying to get in out of the rain. My office is here too now. I’m not following you.”

“Ugh.” She throws open the door, and we both step into the lobby slash reception area together.

I stop short, and my breath rushes out of me. I might as well have just been hit by a rogue Beluga whale picked up by all that rain and somehow dropped straight on top of me.

Evilla stops so fast that she sways in her waterlogged shoes. I hear the squish, slap, squelch. The water pours off our clothing and makes very untidy puddles beneath us. I see her suck in her breath, and she doesn’t let it back out.

Because the woman standing right in front of the reception desk is unmistakably my mother.

She looks just like me.

Minus the square jaw, hard features, muscles, and height. The rest, though? I’m all her.

Evilla stops dead, but her body vibrates with restrained energy. She doesn’t turn to me, doesn’t look between us, and doesn’t give me any glaring looks. She doesn’t accuse me ofplanning this or planting my mother as the continuation of my scheme.

I look at her and not my mom. I’m staring at the back of her head, but I’m still looking. And I’m probably not doing it right. I might not be watching my mom’s reaction, but she’s watchingme. How does one look at another person when they are supposedly bitten, smitten, and absolutely head over heels in love? Or infatuated with. Because curious attraction isn’t enough.

Anyhow, whatever way I’m looking at Evilla, it signals to my mother that this is her. The one. The one I’m over the freaking moon for.

Mom makes the first move. She breaks toward Evilla at what I can only term a dead hurtle. It’s kind of like a dead run, but instead of running, she’s just powerwalking. Then, she throws herself at Evilla and takes one of her wet, limp hands.

“Darling! It’s so good to meet you.”

“Mom,” I choke out. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to surprise you on your first day. I brought my own special pudding. I made enough for at least a hundred people to have a taste. Maybe they want to make it their next big flavor. You always said it was good enough to win awards. And I wanted to tell you how proud I am that you’re expanding and growing in your career.”

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