Page 10 of Latte Girl
“LUDO.” Jordan looks about ready to throttletheguy.
“I should go,” I pipe up, and they both turn to look at me. “Nice to...meet you. Those are good, by the way.” I nod towards the pages of designs still open onthedesk.
Jordan whips the file closed before sayingthanks.
I move to exit the office and Ludo steps back to give me room, making a sweeping bow as Ipasshim.
What century was this guybornin?
I cross over to the elevators, moving as fast as I can without breaking into a run. I have to get out of this building before I manage to break some sort of world record for number of awkward encounters in asingleday.
* * *
By the time5 o’clock rolls around, I’m armed with a bottle of cleaning fluid and a wad of paper towel, making my way through the list of end of day chores at DarkBrown.
I’ve been on autopilot all afternoon, replaying my morning at the Knox building in my head. I start attacking the smudges on the windows with cleaning fluid, picturing the look on Jordan’s face as we stared at each other, my hands braced on either side of his body, pinning him into hischair.
While the thought of the sandwich-meat-scented Ludo insinuating Jordan and I were up to no good in the office is creepy enough to give me nightmares, it has led to a few...ideas.
I imagine where the conversation might have led if Ludo hadn’t come in. After a few more quips about janitors and CEOs, we’d drop all pretences and I’d place both my hands flat on Jordan’s desk, leaning forward onto my elbows until we were eye to eye. His lips would pull up into that smirk, and I’d tilt my head to the side as both an invitation and a challenge, daring him to makeamove.
Which he would, of course. He’d reach out and trace the edge of my cheek with his fingertips, then grab me under the chin and pull his face to mine, his other hand reaching around the back of my head to knot itself in my hair, pulling tight enough to hurt as his mouth finally metwithmine.
I realize I’ve been wiping the same spot on the window for the past several minutes, panting as I rub furious circles into theglass.
Great. I’m twenty-two and already behaving like a sexually frustratedhousewife.
My work is interrupted by the sound of the bell over the front door. I turn to tell whoever it is that we’re closed for the day, when I see that it’s Marvin, one of the twin brothers who own Dark Brown. It still frustrates me to no end that while this place is staffed entirely by women, we all have to answer to men who only show up here once or twice a week and still think they know what’s best forthecafe.
“Hailey,” hegreetsme.
“Hello, Marvin.” I set down my cleaning supplies on a nearbytable.
“Why don’t you sit down, Hailey? We needtotalk.”
Alarm bells start ringing in my ears. Someone from Knox Security must have called. It was probably Jordan. I should have known he wouldn’t be fine with finding a caterer hiding under his desk. Who would be fine with that? He was pretending to play it cool so I wouldn’t freak out andstabhim.
“Giselle calledagain.”
I try not to let out too obvious a sigh of relief as we both sit down at the closesttable.
“It turns out she broke her leg,” Marvin continues, “andherarm.”
“Oh god,” I gasp. “Is shealright?”
“Yes, she’s fine. Well except for her leg, of course, and her arm. She fell down a staircase, but she’ll be alright. Only she won’t be able to come to work for quite awhile because she’stoo,uh...”
“Immobile?” Isupply.
“Yeah, immobile,” Marvin agrees. “So I’m promoting you to cateringmanager.”
My face falls. While I’ve spent half the day entertaining images of Jordan and I, I’ve also realized that I can never go back into the Knox building again. I made a complete fool of myself and have come to the conclusion that fantasy men are better left in fantasies. Seeing as he’s the son of the company’s head, I doubt he’d be easily avoidable if I tookthejob.
Besides, the Knox Security vibe was just as, if not more, depressing than the scene here at DarkBrown.
“Um, I might have to opt out on that one Marvin, if you don’t mind,” Itellhim.
“You’ve been here longer than everyone except Lisa, and I can’t send her. I really need someone to fill this, Hailey,” he explains, before adding, “You’d get a raise. Three dollars moreanhour.”
My reaction is a mix of outrage that Giselle was makingthree dollarsmore per hour than I am, and the realization that even without a math brain like my mom or sister, I can add up quick enough to know that an extra three dollars every hour would make a big difference inmylife.
“I mean, if youreallydon’t have anyone else, Icould—”
“Great!” Marvin cuts me off before I even finish. “It’s only a few meetings a week, anyways. I’ll get Lisa to fill you in on how to prep the cart tomorrow, and give you a copy of the cateringschedule.”
He slides off his chair and heads out of the store, the bell above the doorway tinkling as heleaves.
