Page 23 of The Billionaire Boss and the Barista

Although she had to admit, Emma Mendez, corporate spy, sounded a whole lot cooler than Emma Mendez, disabled amnesiac.

“Again, I apologize for—” Garrett began before cutting himself off to give the bulge in his coat a glare.

Emma huffed, taking another protective step back. The man was being too weird.

He cleared his rapidly reddening throat. “As for high school, we weren’t mortal enemies. It was more along the lines of a healthy rivalry.”

So, was Fletcher lying in the HR lady’s office, or was Garrett lying now?

Emma sighed, suddenly exhausted. “Then wedidn’thate each other?”

His mouth opened but he caught himself and appeared to flinch. “Well, you did threaten to hit me with a history book once or twice.”

She raised her brows. Did the man have some sort of nervous tic?

“History? Not math?”

“History was our thickest textbook.” He gave her a charming shrug. “But I assure you, I deserved it.”

Emma kicked the sidewalk with the toe of her scuffed boot. “That’s, um, believable.”

She expected a scowl or dirty look, but Garrett Chapman surprised her. He started laughing. It transformed his features from forbidding and intimidating to open. Almost warm.

And stupidly handsome. Very stupid.

Chapman leaned forward, his face sober and serious now. “Our rivalry turned my life around. I want to pay a little of that forward.”

Emma’s brow puckered. Hector had mentioned something to that effect, but she hadn’t expected Mr. Moneybags to follow through.

Except he was here in the flesh, being awkward and promising what exactly? Also, what the hell was he hiding under his coat?

“Let me get this straight,” she said, deciding it washer turn to hold a finger in the air. “Back in high school, I threatened your manhood in science class or whatever. So you started studying so you could prove your masculine superiority. And now you think you owe me because—shocker—you, a well-to-do white male, made even more money?”

His lips flattened but he nodded. “In a nutshell.”

Emma wanted to write him off as a psycho, but the reality was much more depressing.

This was pity. Mr. Moneybags felt sorry for her.

Emmaline Mendez had been valedictorian of her high school class. She had excelled at sports and math, was co-captain of the debate team, and made the Dean’s list the first three years of college. She had applied to business school and secured a competitive summer internship at a major Wall Street firm.

It wasn’t just her memories that were gone. That bright and shining future belonged to a stranger.

Emma had spent years doing intensive physical therapy just to get to a point where she could function. She couldn’t even get a driver’s license because of her frequent headaches. They were chronic and debilitating and the reason she was legally classified as disabled.

Now this handsome wealthy man had dropped out of the sky with his perfectly fitted suit and sculpted cheekbones. But this wasn’t a romance movie. Garrett wasn’t here to sweep her off her feet. He was here to give her a handout to assuage his guilt over living his best life while she had forgotten everything about hers.

This is why she avoided everyone from before the accident. She hadn’t even visited her mom or sister since moving out here from Colorado.

Emma had enough.

With that, she took two steps forward and made the sign of the cross up and down over Mr. Moneybags’ tall frame.

His head drew back. “What was that for?”

It was her turn to shrug. “You appear to need absolution. I just gave it to you. Can we call it a day now?”

He snorted, managing not to sound like a pig. That or he came froman alternate dimension where pigs were suave debonair bachelors who regularly graced the cover ofGQ.

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