Page 1 of Grump and Grumpier

CHAPTER 1

ANA

Icheck my reflection one last time in the rearview mirror. My hair is still smooth, pulled back in a single thick braid, and there are no lipstick smudges on my teeth. When I get out of the car, I make sure my skirt is straight. I’m not nervous, but I want to make a good impression.

I already have a decent job, so I don’t need this one, but my current position is limited until my manager retires. Since that doesn’t appear to be happening anytime soon, I’ve been keeping an eye out for better opportunities.

I’m especially curious about this particular company. Community Bean operates a few coffee shops in the area, and they’re wildly popular. They have a reputation for serving ethical coffee and donating a sizable portion of their profits to charitable causes that their customers get to choose.They’re also known for serving delicious, creative beverages, and my roommate Callie is a devoted—okay, let’s say addicted—customer.

On the flipside of that, in my job in human resources, I conducted preliminary interviews with two different people who previously worked here at Community Bean’s corporate office, and I got a strange vibe from both of them. Neither said anything negative about their past employer, but as I questioned them, it became easy to read between the lines.

Both job candidates had said they quit rather than been fired, and it was clear there was a lot they wouldn’t let themselves say. There are always job openings posted for Community Bean, and at first, I assumed it was because they were growing, but after interviewing their past employees, I’ve wondered if, instead, they have a problem with turnover.

So, I’m curious, but not overly hopeful about my own prospects here. My trepidation is reinforced when I arrive at their lobby on the ninth floor and am greeted by an unenthusiastic receptionist. Her halfhearted smile is another bad sign, but it’s a quarter after five in the evening, so maybe she’s just tired.

She shows me into a conference room that has a view out toward the mountains. My current job is closer to the beach town where I live, but there’smore opportunity here in the city, and I’d be willing to commute if I find something good.

“I’ll be leaving soon,” the woman says from the doorway. “Would you like water or coffee before I go?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” I say in a mock whisper, “but I don’t like coffee.”

This gets a genuine smile out of her. “Your secret’s safe with me. Water, then?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you, though, and have a good evening.”

“Thanks. I hope you won’t be waiting too long. They’re often running late.” With that warning, she disappears, and I’m left alone with a big empty conference table and the beautiful view.

I take a seat and sit patiently for ten minutes before I fish my phone out of my bag and set it atop my notebook. I’m in the middle of a good book, and if I’m going to be kept waiting, I may as well make use of my time.

I was reading during my lunch break earlier today, and I’ve been thinking about the story all afternoon. I like all sorts of books, but romances are my favorite, and this one is really something. It’s a vampire story, and the main character is described so vividly that I’ve been salivating over him. There’s also a rival vampire, who’s equally as hot, and a lucky woman who gets caught between them.

I haven’t gotten to the best bits yet, but I know they’re coming. The pages have been full of lust and intrigue so far, and after pulling up my ereader app, I dive back into the action. The female lead is alone in her bed when she hears noises outside. Just as she goes to her open window and pulls back the drapes, the conference room door opens and two men stride in.

Aside from their modern clothing and the warm tones in their non-vampiric skin, the men are striking enough to have stepped right out of my book. They’re so stunning, they’re almost unreal.

I did my research, of course, and though there weren’t any pictures of the co-CEOs on the company website, I found images of them in online articles. Nothing I saw did them justice.

As I hurriedly slide my phone back into my bag, my heart skips a few beats before I regain my composure.

The men take seats across from me without a word of greeting or any apologies about being—I discreetly glance at the clock on the wall—twenty-five minutes late. Their eyes, one pair deep brown, the other grayish-green, fix on me, and I start sweating. I’ve never seen men this intensely good looking anywhere outside of my imagination, and I can’t decide if I’m suddenly nervous, or if my hormoneshave just started fluttering around inside me like a shaken snow globe.

When they’re still silent, I extend my hand to the man on the left. I’d estimate he’s at least five to ten years older than me, maybe in his mid-thirties. His hair is nearly black and stylishly cut, thicker at the top with the sides trimmed close. His neat mustache emphasizes the lushness of his lips, which are curved down in a way that makes it seem likeI’mthe one who was late to our meeting. Little wisps of silver in his beard shimmer in the light of the setting sun that comes in through the windows.

“Hi, I’m Ana Flores,” I say with much more confidence than I’m feeling.

“Derek Brooks.” There’s nonice to meet you,no change in his expression to make me feel welcome. There is, however, an electrifying sizzle when his hand grips mine.

I supply the niceties that good social graces call for, and tell him that it’s nice to meet him, before I offer my hand to the second man, who looks even more unpleasant than the first, but equally as sexy. He’s around the same age as Mr. Brooks, but with golden brown hair that I want to run my fingers through. His hand is big and engulfs mine with a firm touch.

“Jansen Bennett.”

“Nice to meet you. Thank you both for meeting with me.”

I’m met with cold stares that somehow do nothing to cool my rising body temperature, and maybe I’m not the only one feeling some kind of attraction, because I’d swear that Mr. Bennett’s bright eyes dip down to my chest, where I’m modestly covered by a white button-down under a slate blue blazer.

I slide a copy of my resume across the table to each of them.

“What position are you here for?” Mr. Brooks asks. So they’re not only late, but also unprepared, though maybe it’s hard for them to keep track of job interviews when they have so many openings.

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