Page 9 of Perfect Pact

“I’m so sor—” I choke out, trying to swallow the rest of my muffin. “Sorry.” I gulp. “I must have misunderstood, Elaina.”

“You’re perfectly fine. I switched rooms at the last minute. I was just about to show these gentlemen to the kitchen for some coffee while I take an emergency call. Care for one, Mrs. Michaels?”

“Actually, it’s…” I begin to correct him when a very familiar voice speaks up.

“Beth, is that you?” Dusty stands and makes his way over to me. “Well, isn’t it my lucky day. I didn’t think I would get to see you again so soon.”

“Wonderful! I didn’t realize you two knew each other.” Mr. Wright claps Dusty on the shoulder. “This kid—”

Correction—pastry thief.

“Kid?” Dusty laughs. “I haven’t been called that in years.”

“You’re right.” Mr. Wright’s lips curve up into a smile. “It’s been a long time. Not since you and Malcolm decided to take the four-wheeler out and run it right into the pond.

Dusty winces. “Not the best decision I’ve ever made.”

“I guess not.” Mr. Wright squeezes Dusty’s shoulder before turning his attention to the rest of the table.

“This way, guys. My secretary has brewed a fresh pot of her famous coffee for us.”

“Perfect.” The older man nods.

“I can smell it from here.” The younger version of him smiles as he passes by me.

They excuse themselves and follow Mr. Wright out into the hallway, leaving me across the large, shiny table from my nemesis.

I should have stayed out front and waited for their meeting to be over. Now, I’m stuck in a room with the pastry thief and all I want to do is grab one of these muffins and smash it in his face.

“So—how long have you worked for Simon?”

Is this guy for real?

Rolling my eyes, I set the muffins down on the table before I’m tempted to do something that will land me in the headlines of the MC Scoop.

“Look at me.” I spin around, holding my arms out. “Does it look like I work here?”

I do a little turn to make sure he gets a good look at my white tank, faded jeans, and worn boots.

He shrugs. “Casual Friday.”

“On Thursday?”

“It’s Thursday?” He cocks his head to the side and runs a hand over his chin. “Either way, if I worked here, I would allow you to wear that every day.”

Oh, Lord. Here we go.

“Watch it, Dusty. You went from charmer to creeper in zero-point-four seconds.” I motion to the Wright and Sons, Attorneys at Law plaque on the door. “Plus, it’s not the smartest place to sexually harass a—”

“Non-employee?” Dusty cuts in.

“Jesus! Don’t you ever stop?”

“Go on a date with me and find out.”

“I’d rather not.” I pull out a chair and plop down, needing Mr. Wright to be back so I can get myself, and my muffins, out of here. “But thank you for the offer.”

“Come on, Beth.” Dusty takes a seat. “What happened? I thought we made friends over dark roast and some raspberry tart. Which hit the spot. I can see why you like it.”

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