Page 2 of Just One Summer with the Grumpy

I hit the appropriate button on the phone, relayed the message to my boss, and grimaced again at the state of my blouse. I’d been off by not one button, buttwo.I looked like a first-grader playing dress-up. At least Chase hadn’t seemed to notice my clothing malfunction. There were no clients currently in the lobby—I’d hurry and fix that right now. Knowing my luck, Chase would choose today, of all days, to actually lookat me on his way out. Getting fired would not help the whole eviction problem at home.

Maybe if I gave my loft to someone else and took the couch…but no. Absolutely not. I would not be the only working twenty-six-year-old woman in New York sleeping on a flea-infested sofa. There had to be better options than that.

I finished with the top button and started on the second, taking a seat to avoid direct eye contact with anyone walking by outside. The lobby felt like working in a fishbowl sometimes. The windows were tinted so it was difficult for people to see inside, but I could see far more of the outdoors than I wanted to these days—including a man walking around in a Speedo and nothing else, women dragging toilet paper along under their high heels, and gusts of wind causing the occasional shirt or skirt to fly skyward. As awkward as my particular wardrobe malfunction was today, at least I had somewhere to hide in order to fix it.

The third button. This would be the most awkward, fixing the bulge right above my breasts. From the side, my bra would be visible.

Nobody come in, nobody come in,I pleaded with the universe, keeping my ears tuned for the sound of the door opening to a new client. But the city noise remained firmly locked away.

The elevator dinged. Someone had arrived in the lobby.

My finger slipped, forcing me to start over. I would conquer this stupid button yet. It would not win—

“Daphne?”

The sound of my ex-boyfriend’s voice sent a wave of horror through me.

But no, that couldn’t be right. I hadn’t seen him in nearly a year. My visitor had to have a similar voice. Because of all the hundreds of thousands of people in Manhattan, the chances of Ty showing up here while I hid, half-clothed, one hand covering my oddly bulging shirt, would be astronomical.

I slowly turned in my chair to find Ty standing behind the counter, looking down at me.

His beautiful eyes slid down to my hand and back up to my face. “It is you. Your hair is different, but I thought…” He seemed to get a hold of himself and grinned. “What are you doing?”

“I, um. Just a second.” I turned away and hurriedly fastened the rest of the buttons, the heat from my face practically heating the air all around me. Then I swept a hand over my unruly hair and turned, hoping I looked poised and confident. “I had a button issue, but it’s taken care of now.”

“Ah. So you ducked back there to fix it.” His gaze slid to my blouse again and back to my face. “You don’t actually work here…?”

That night almost a year ago came flooding back—my tears as I’d fled his apartment after he dumped me. Ty, an attorney himself, had accused me of floating along in the fast-paced river of New York commerce without a single career goal to my name. Definitelynottrue. I was just between dreams at the moment.

But if he found out I worked here, a part-time receptionist at a very temporary dead-end desk job, it would only prove him right.

“No, no,” I said quickly, grateful I didn’t have a name tag. “I’m actually just here to…meet someone. But there’s no receptionist right now.”

The lie settled in my gut, but staring at the man who’d been my real dream and my everything for nearly two years and the longest relationship of my life, I didn’t regret it one bit.

That seemed to satisfy him. “Makes sense. I’ve only ever come in the morning when Dani was here. Maybe they don’t have an afternoon receptionist. Is your meeting with Blythe? She had to end our appointment early because she got called in to something, but I bet you can find her business card here somewhere.” He searched the desk, found the card holder with Blythe’s contact information, and handed me one.

“Thanks.” Time for this conversation to end, and fast. If another client walked in, I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t work here. I’d lose my job.

Wait.Anotherclient. There was only one reason Ty would meet with Blythe. “Are you getting married?”Please say no.

He nodded. “Yes. Destination wedding. It’s all happened so fast, but her parents are paying, and everything sort of fell into place.” His gaze dropped to my very ring-less hand. “Is that why you’re here too?”

Destination wedding. Her parents are paying.His fiancée had to be loaded indeed. Everett only planned events for the most elite clients in Manhattan—the snobbish Chase Everett crowd. What female eyes could Ty have drawn long enough to get them engaged so soon after his last relationship?

“It isn’t official yet,” I said casually, hoping he couldn’t see my mind racing. “But we’re talking about it. We have our sights on a little island off the coast of Costa Rica called Isle de Pura Vida.” Everett Events hosted almost exclusively there, so hopefully he would buy it.

“Same!” he exclaimed. “Wouldn’t that be ironic, both of us getting married on the same tiny island? And using the same wedding planner too, in a city as big as New York.”

I forced a chuckle. What if he was only pretending to go along with my lie and secretly laughed at my poor attempt at self-preservation?

Or worse. What if, at this moment, he was questioning his marriage plans and my own relationship status drove him to go through with it anyway?

A realization slapped me right in the stunned brain.The fortune cookie. The horoscope.This had to be the relationship they referred to. Ty and I could still be meant for each other.

My destiny stood right in front of me.

“Very ironic,” I finally agreed. “Your fiancée must have some money to afford Everett.” Ty had been a junior attorney at a huge firm downtown, so unless something had drastically changed in the last year, he’d be relying on her wealth for a long while.

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