Page 8 of Perfect Pact

Chapter 2

Beth

Sincemylittlerunin with the with the pastry thief at Java Jitters, my level of grouchiness has risen from agitated too downright hangry.

And because I was forced to go outside my box and pick something different, I’m now running late for my meeting with Simon Wright, Mr. Jacob’s attorney.

Last week, when I received a phone call from his office, I thought maybe I was finally being sued by a collection company. Even after all these years, I still have people coming out of the woodwork saying my ex owes them money. I know it shouldn’t be my responsibility, but I can’t afford to hire someone to help me fight it. Until then, the asshole randomly applies for credit cards using me as a co-applicant. And when he doesn’t make the monthly payment, it hits my social security number and credit report.

Luckily for me, this wasn’t the case. Mr. Wright was named the executor of Buck Jacobs’ estate. Last year, Mr. Jacobs called him to come out to the house to make a few adjustments to his will. I was surprised at first, but also not. Mr. Jacobs and I had so many memories in that house, from sunsets to watching Christmas movies year-round. I’m sure he left me his favorite DVD collection or maybe even the front porch swing. Either way, it’s nice to know he thought of me as more than just a caretaker, because the feeling was mutual.

“Mornin’!” Faith Evans, the owner of Serenity Salon, waves as she sets her potted plants just outside the door.

“Hey! Running late.” I run past her, the box of muffins held against my chest and the cup of coffee out in front of me in case it splashes. I don’t want to stain my white tank before the meeting.

“I know the feeling. Let’s catch up soon!”

“Deal!” I call out, not even bothering to look back as I round the corner. When the Wright and Sons brick building is in sight, I slow to a brisk walk, trying to get my breathing under control. I don’t want to look like a mad woman rushing through the door at the last minute.

“You’ve got this.” I give myself a pep talk as I open the door to see Elaina, the office secretary, waiting for me.

“Good morning, Beth.” Her eyes go wide when she sees the white box with Java Jitters’ logo on top. “Are those for the meeting?”

Oh, no, she didn’t.

There are two ways I can get out of this. And being a greedy, very hungry bitch is not one of them.

“Nope.” I plaster a fake smile on my face and approach her desk. “But I did pick up your favorite,” I lie, having no clue what she likes.

“Muffins?” Elaina claps.

Bingo!

“Of course.” I open the box and silently say a prayer she doesn’t pick one ofmyfavorites.

Who am I kidding? I want them all.

“Those smell delicious!” She swirls her finger around like she’s playing Russian roulette. What she doesn’t realize is any one she chooses is the kill shot. “Double chocolate chip for the win.” Elaina plucks the treat I was going to save for this evening right out of the box. “Thank you so much, Beth.”

“You’re welcome,” I grumble as I glance up at the clock on the wall.

“Simon is in his office finishing up, but you can head into the meeting room,” Elaina says around a mouthful of muffin.

I hope she chokes.

Not really, but still—it wasmymuffin. It wasn’t the raspberry lemon tart that Dusty “No Last Name” jerk stole from me, but it was a very tasty, very free runner-up I didn’t even get to enjoy. It sucks.

“Perfect. I’m just going to scarf down one of these before I go in there. I haven’t had breakfast,” I confess as my stomach begins to growl.

Elaina chuckles. “Not a problem.” She holds up the other half of her muffin. “Thank you again for this. It’s been a heck of a day already.”

“Trust me. I know.” I snag a banana nut from the box and inhale it in record time. If Mr. Wright catches me eating, I’ll feel obligated to offer him one. No can do, sir.

I feel bad for even thinking this way. If I wasn’t struggling to buy groceries, I wouldn’t care, but there are only so many ways you can fix ramen.

Ignoring the guilt, I push through the double doors and freeze. This room isn’t empty. In fact, it’s very much occupied.

“There you are.” Mr. Wright stands and walks over to me as the other men turn in their seats.

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