Page 37 of Resolute

“And you bake cookies as a side gig?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” I say with a chuckle.

“A woman of many talents,” he simply states, and I blush furiously at the compliment.

“I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, but in the spirit of having a good first day back at work, I’m going to try one,” he says.

I smile, thankful he didn’t throw the plate, sending it flying into the air.

He takes the smallest bite, pausing to savor it. “Hmm, does it have almonds?” he finally asks as he takes a bigger bite.

“Yes, almond extract.” I beam at the fact that he catches the flavor.

“This is a really good cookie. Not too sweet, beautifully decorated. Crunchy, yet not crumbly.” He takes another bite. “It’s decadent.”

I raise an eyebrow at his description. “Wow, Mr. Godoy, you’re good.”

He smiles as he goes for another bite. And, my God, what a smile. It’s not smug or forced—it’s genuine. I wish he would do it more often; it definitely paints him in a different light.

Right this moment, the arrogant, cold, bitter boss I’m so used to dealing with is nowhere to be seen. And if I’m being completely honest, it’s a little alarming.

Because if Vicente Godoy decides to amp up the charm, I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist him. And that thought terrifies me.

“You don’t grow up in a winery and not learn the art of tasting,” he says.

When he tries the coffee, he freezes.

Oh, crap. And here I thought I was going to get a standing ovation.

“Is that cinnamon?” he asks after a few beats.

I simply nod, waiting to see what else he says.

“This combination is fantastic. I think I’m going to need this every morning.” He finishes the cookie and takes a couple more sips of his coffee. “Hats off to you, Ms. Flores. Now let’s get to work.”

I put my index and middle fingers in gun position and dance toward the chair that’s right across from Mr. Godoy.

“Let’s boogie, boss,” I say as I take the seat.

When I look up at him, he’s looking at me perplexed.

“What?”

He shakes his head as a handsome smirk forms on his face. “Nothing, it’s just that I’ve heard you say that before but never saw the dance that went along with it.”

“Well, you know your life is as bright or as miserable as you make it,” I say, shrugging as I fire up the tablet. “And I choose brightness and happiness. very single day.”

He nods, and we get to work.

I thought he was going to give me hell for it, instead we went over the different meetings he planned for today. I marvel athow easy it is to have him around. I thought he was going to be a grinch in the office, but the moment he tried the cookies and coffee, everything changed.

A little kindness goes a long way.

Right after lunch, he calls me into the office.

“Ms. Flores, I’m not sure what your arrangement is for taking care of your child, but I need you to join me for dinner tonight,” he says in a monotone voice without looking at me.

I frown. Why would he need me at dinner? Is he hitting on me? No way. My cookies aren’t that magical. Not to mention, it’d be beyond unprofessional. I mean, who asks their assistant out after the first day of work?

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