Page 53 of Coco and the Misfits

“Atticus,” I say, my phone wedged between my neck and my shoulder. “It’s me, Coco. I accept the job. I said so already, right? So when do I start? Oh, and I hope you’re doing okay! Um, yeah. Bye-bye now. Call me!”

I’m leaving him a voice message, since he didn’t pick up when I called, and I realize I haven’t even asked him how much he’ll be paying me. Also, wait, this will probably be a trial week, right? For him to see if I can really get the job done?

I hang up and chew on my lower lip. Oh god, that was terrible. So lame.

“Bye-bye now?” Really? I’ll probably never hear back from him again. Ugh! Why am I like that? I’m naturally babbly, but around Atticus, I blurt out the stupidest things. Nervous, me? He’s only a silver fox with top alpha vibes and a fortune.

Strange that he doesn’t have a pack, come to think of it.

Very strange.

Maybe he is a serial killer?

I giggle evilly to myself as I sip my hot chocolate.

And then I almost choke on it when my phone starts ringing with his number. Dammit, is he reading my mind? A mind-reading killer.

“Hello?” I squeak. “Hi.”

“Coco?” His warm, deep voice sends a pleasurable shudder through me. “Sorry I didn’t pick up earlier, I was in a business meeting.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” I say, my voice breathier than the breathiest voice ever. “No problem.”

“So you still want the job?”

“Yes. Definitely. Thank you.”

Stop. Blabbing. Now.

“Excellent.” He does sound pleased, which makes me relax a little. “You have the address. I’ll let the concierge know you’re going. She’ll give you a key so you can be independent.”

He’ll give me a key to his house? And wait, he has a concierge?

“Coco? Are you still there?”

“Yes! Present!” I bite my tongue. “Starting tomorrow morning, then?”

“Whenever you like. My home is your home.”

I freeze like a deer in headlights. “What?”

He’s quiet for long heartbeats. Then he says gruffly, “One thing you should know about me is that I always mean what I say.”

“But—”

“I have another meeting to get to. Let me know if you need anything. Oh, about your wages. Is the basic-plus-plus okay? And tips, of course.”

“Tips?” And… basic-plus-plus is the top end of the basic wages offered in the state. I’ve never been paid so much per hour in my life. It’s what accountants and university lecturers expect when starting out. “I…”

“Is that okay for you?”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, of course. I’m…”

“Be safe,” he says, and I can’t find the words to reply until he hangs up.

How… how dare he say such sweet things to me? It’s as if he really cares, and if it turns out he talks that way to everyone, my heart will shatter.

A bad sign all around. A sign I’m letting myself fall for him…

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