Page 45 of The Re-Proposal

“Right? I was thinking of selling these at the grand opening next month. Really make a name for myself in the gourmet dessert market.” Erica grins wide and reveals a gold tooth. “People are tired of the same-old, same-old. It’s time for something fresh.”

“Well, this… certainly counts.”

My eyebrows wrinkle when I see both Clarissa and Ms. Phoebe smiling politely. Aren’t they going to tell this woman the truth?

I step forward, firmly wearing my businessman hat. “Hi, I’m the co-op’s newest investor.” Clarissa’s eyes shift to me and widen. I ignore her outraged frown. “Did you say you’ll be selling these to customers?”

“Yes. Would you like one?”

I hold a hand out, ignoring Ris’s surly, do-not-approach signals.

“I want your honest opinion,” Erica says.

Pinching the brownie between my fingers, I taste it. The flood of disgusting flavors that hit my tongue has me making a face. It’s a miracle that I manage to swallow. All the warning bells in my brain are signalling that I should not be putting this mess into my body.

“Well?” Erica beams.

“Do you really want my opinion?”

She nods.

Behind her, Clarissa makes a slashing gesture over her neck.

“Are you sure?” I ask Erica.

“Lay it on me. I’m ready.”

The slashing motion gets more frantic.

“Your brownie…”

“Yes.” Erica clasps her hands together.

I lift my chin and tell her the truth. “Is awful. I wouldn’t feed a dog something like that.”

Ms. Phoebe looks horrified.

Clarissa gasps.

Erica covers her mouth. “Is itthatbad?”

“It’s terrible. Like regurgitated dung.” I grab my handkerchief and wipe the side of my mouth, wishing I could use that amnesia spray fromMen In Blackon my tastebuds. “If I could take those brownies out back and shoot them to put them out of their misery, I would.”

“Cody!” Clarissa hisses.

“I’m… sorry.” Erica’s eyes glaze over. “I didn’t… I didn’t…” Tears streaming down her face, she runs outside.

“Erica, wait!” Ms. Phoebe waddles after her.

Laura returns just as Erica runs out crying. She glances at me and then at Clarissa. “Did someone finally break the news to her?”

“Yes,” Clarissa growls out.

Before I can defend myself, the door opens again and Vargas walks in. A kid in a wheelchair rolls with him.

I stalk toward my assistant. “Who’s the kid?”

“Your solution.”

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