Anyone But Nick (Anyone But... #3) - Penelope Bloom Page 0,34

for the cookie? It sounds like you’re just choosing what’s best for you.”

“I refuse to take this seriously anymore. I’m not going to get into a philosophical debate on whether a cookie’s purpose is to be eaten and pretend it has any bearing on my love life.”

“It doesn’t, because you don’t have a love life,” Rich said. “And you never will, at this rate.”

“Good. Then I’ll be able to stay focused on work.”

He gave me an obnoxious look, like a grandma who was planning to patiently hold her tongue so I could learn a lesson for myself.

“You know what? Why don’t you save me some leftovers? Tell everybody I couldn’t make dinner tonight.”

Rich raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t make it to dinner. At your own house.”

“Yes. I need to head to Bark Bites and look into something.”

“Miranda’s eyes?”

I gave him a dry look. “She has been off work for a few hours now. It’s just going to be me there.”

“All right. Whatever. I’ll throw some of this in Tupperware, but my pasta isn’t as good left over. Just warning you.”

“It’s not that great fresh either.”

“Asshole.”

Chapter 9

MIRANDA

I rubbed my throbbing temples and let my forehead thump down on my desk. I wasn’t sure what I was trying so hard to prove by coming in late. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I was here because when everything felt complicated and confusing, I could always count on work to be simple. I could come in, find something meaningful to do, and do it.

Except I was hitting dead end after dead end. I didn’t have access to the complete financial records of Bark Bites. I had the publicly reported data as well as what their accountants officially compiled. I didn’t have the unofficial data, which was what grabbed my interest the more I looked into the numbers.

I was almost certain those would be in Nick’s office, just like I was almost certain the security guard who had let me in was still watching a movie on his phone at the front desk. I doubted he’d even think to come back to this wing of the office.

I scooped a paperclip from my desk and headed across the hall to Nick’s door. I tried the handle, but it was locked. Of course it was locked. That was why I’d grabbed a paperclip.

For a few moments, I stared down at the innocent little scrap of aluminum. Was I seriously considering this? Yes. Was I seriously going to do this? Yes.

With a sigh, I carefully unbent the clip and started my amateur attempts at unlocking the door. I slid the long end of the clip with the tiny hook I’d fashioned into the hole on the doorknob. After a little fishing around, I thought I felt the groove I was looking for. When I turned it, I felt the lock slide open.

A cold thrill ran through me. I knew how to unlock doors like that only because the bathroom in my house sometimes locked itself and had the same kind of lock. Picking the lock to a door I wasn’t supposed to open was an entirely different experience.

It would be fine, though. I was just trying to do my job, and my boss happened to not be in the office to give me the documents I needed.

I walked behind his desk and couldn’t help feeling the sense of foreboding wash over me. I had to be imagining it, but I thought I could smell the faint scent of his cologne behind his desk, like some kind of stupid, sexy ghost lurking over my shoulder.

I convinced myself that I didn’t need to feel guilty for snooping through Nick’s desk. I doubted he had even bothered to move anything personal inside yet. I was basically snooping through Dan Snyder’s desk. Besides, I was pretty sure if I looked up the definition of snooping, there would be some specific language about trying to find personal items. I was just looking for some boring old financial papers. If I saw anything weird, I’d . . .

I frowned at what appeared to be a massive stash of some kind of trading cards in his desk. I flipped a few over and saw pictures of fantasy creatures with a bunch of statistics on how much damage they would do and how many “mana” they cost to summon. I grinned. I wondered if they were Nick’s or Dan’s.

I had to blindly reach toward the back corner of his drawer because of the awkward angle. I