Anyone But Nick (Anyone But... #3) - Penelope Bloom Page 0,27

to turn into a failure.

There was a knock at the door to my office.

“Come in,” I said. “Oh. Miranda, hey. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk at the party last night.”

She smiled briefly. Cold. Professional. As usual, she was dressed impeccably. A nicely fitting pantsuit that she still managed to make feminine and—no, the word that almost came to mind was sexy. I didn’t need to be throwing words like that around.

“It’s fine,” Miranda said. “We were both busy. I actually just wanted to tell you that I found something I thought you should know about.”

I raised my eyebrows. I hadn’t given her any tasks yet, partly because I was curious to see how long it’d take her to come ask me for something to do. I wasn’t sure what she could’ve found on her own, but I was curious. I was also wondering if she was really going to pretend she hadn’t seen anything last night. But maybe that was for the best too. “Is that right?”

“I wanted to make myself useful, and, well, here.” She set a folder on my desk and left without another word.

I picked up the folder. A neat stack of papers was bound inside and marked with highlighter and color-coded sticky tabs. I thumbed through and quickly realized it was a financial report on Bark Bites. I nearly flipped through the section covering business expenditures, since I’d just finished looking through those myself, but I noticed a highlighted summary of her findings.

Apparently, Dan had been representing the business expenses under the wrong tax code, which, according to Miranda’s math, was an extremely costly mistake. A costly mistake that I’d completely missed.

I sat back in my chair and stared at the folder. Damn. Miranda hadn’t just found a mistake I’d overlooked, but she’d also compiled it into a neat and organized little package to drop on my desk? And she’d done it all before lunch, to boot.

I got up suddenly and headed to her office.

I half expected to find her hiding in the corner with some random assortment of junk food strewn around her again, but she was sitting behind her desk with perfect posture.

“Hey,” I said.

She jerked even more upright, and something thudded under her desk. Miranda winced, reaching down and rubbing at what I assumed was a bumped knee. “Do you have to come flying in here like Kramer?”

“Who?”

“Never mind. Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Sorry. I just—” I held up the folder. “I was skimming this, and I can already tell this is amazing work. Maybe we can grab lunch, and you can go over it all with me in detail?” What the hell was I doing? I’d never been the impulsive type, and my brain was just now playing catch-up with my actions. It was like I’d moved so quickly that my logic hadn’t been able to keep pace, and now I was neck deep in what was undeniably a bad plan.

“Lunch?” she asked. “I don’t want to sound rude, but it’s color-coded and should be pretty easy to follow. That was kind of the idea.”

“Maybe I should try brutal honesty for a change?”

Miranda gave me a hint of the first real smile I’d seen from her since coming back to West Valley. “That might be an effective strategy.”

“Strategy . . .” I couldn’t help grinning back at her. “Usually strategies involve systematic approaches to overcoming a challenge. Achieving a goal. Winning a prize, even. Are you trying to imply that I’d need a strategy when it comes to you? That you’re a prize I’m trying to win?” I wanted to kick myself in the shin. Stop it, Nick. I’d only just tried to start doing the right thing, and I was already testing the boundaries of my own rules.

I couldn’t be sure, but I thought a hint of red had crept into Miranda’s cheeks. “Those are some relatively self-serving examples of when a strategy could be effective. I would’ve said they are also helpful when you come across as an ass to your newest employee and want to mend fences.”

I smiled. “Fair point. Let me start over. I feel awkward around you, and I’m not used to feeling awkward around people. One minute, I’m trying too hard to pretend we don’t have a history; the next, I’m having to force myself to remember you probably hate me. But maybe we can do this again. Colleagues now. Not enemies. Not friends, unless you want to be. Just colleagues.” That