Page 7 of Stay for Me

Silently, while studying the ceiling of my office, I channeled Emily Blunt’s character fromThe Devil Wears Prada.

I love my job.

I love my job.

I love my job.

As the ranch owner on the other end of the line carried on about things that didn’t matter to me or my client, I let out a soft sigh, closing my eyes. Today was Wednesday, which meant I’d written my to-do list in purple and my schedule in baby blue in ink—with sparkles. Wednesdays were usually, despite my hectic schedule, my only good day of the week. The mid-point. The halfway point. The lull.

Wednesdays were also cookie days, the one day of the week I allowed myself to eat the only food that brought me pure, unadulterated joy. I was set on eating said cookie after savoring my lunch, but from the looks of it, I might not be able to do that.

I don’t know which pissed me off more: the man on the phone insulting my client, or losing my cookie time.

“I’d like to speak to your supervisor,” the man snarled through the phone, derailing my train of thought about sweet treats.

The answer was A.

This man definitely pissed me off more, and now, he’d given me the opportunity to put him right where he belonged: in his place.

A slow, wonderful smile spread across my face as my eyes opened. Suddenly, that annoying throb in my skull lessened, as if my body was allowing me this one gift, and my craving for the sea salt chocolate chip cookie sitting on my counter disappeared.

Oh, how I was going to enjoy this gift.

The gift of verbally shoving my success up this man’s ass.

“Sir, thismylaw firm,” I told him sweetly. “The only boss here is me.”

He scoffed. “How can you claim to represent ranchers and small businesses when you treat us like this?”

I didn’t even stop my eyes from rolling. Victimizing was an old game, one I’d grown tired of playing. “Youmistreatedmyclient. As previously stated, look over those terms, and if you would like to negotiate, we can set something up.”

The man huffed, calling me a bitch before ending the call, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

As I pulled my phone away from my ear, I muttered, “A basket of sunshine that cowboy is.”

Onto the next thing.

For the next hour, I forced all the other crap from my mind to focus on my meeting with my everything girl, Emma. She worked out of her three bedroom apartment in Denver and was the best investment I’d ever made for my business. She took care of my client schedule, booked court dates, managed the website, and funneled in new clients. She also helped me with keeping up with the books, making sure I had a vacation at least one a year. Without her, my firm would be in disarray. She took care of the little things so my paralegal and I could focus on the big things.

Emma, my Everything Girl.

“Things are looking good, Diana,” she assured me from her side of the Zoom call. “I have a possible new client wanting to meet with you.”

My ears perked up. I hadn’t taken on a new client in over a year. “Oh yeah?” I asked, picking up my pen.

Emma’s blue eyes shined with excitement on my screen as she pushed some of her purple hair back. “Yeah, small ranch outside of Colorado Springs.”

Music to my ears.

“Send over the questionnaire please,” I murmured as I jotted down a note.

“Already in your inbox.”

I looked back up, a smile stretching across my lips. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

Emma grinned. “Yes, but you can tell me again. I love to hear it.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, going over the next month and when we were done, she closed her tablet and leaned back in her chair.

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