Office Grump An Enemies to Lovers Romance - Nicole Snow Page 0,46
I insist, locking my gaze on her again to prove my point.
Her arms are crossed in front of her, and she leans against a concrete plant holder, slumping just slightly. She yawns, and something on the ground catches her attention.
I watch her bend over, scoop it off the ground, and come up holding a piece of copper between her thumb and forefinger.
“Lucky penny!” she squeals, as if she just struck gold. “Penny, penny bring me luck, I’m the one who picked you up.”
I look back at Ruby who’s also watching this whole scene.
Ruby raises a brow as if to say, told ya.
I don’t respond. But dammit, I may need to consider her advice.
Our limo pulls up a second later and we all slide in. Miss Bristol shows her lucky penny off to anyone and everyone. They humor her, but the second her back is turned, their eyes morph to pity, confusion, concern.
Fuck me sideways.
The girl needs a break.
She scoots in beside me as the car gets going, beaming at the thing in her palm. “I found a lucky penny. Seems like a good sign for the Jazzle Razzle deal!”
I’d ask if she’s drunk, but I’ve been with her most of the day and know the answer.
She’s only had enough coffee to tweak out a horse.
Maybe there’s more to this and I’m missing something.
“So I’ve heard,” I say quietly. “What makes it so lucky?”
“If you find a penny heads up, you have to pick it up. The rest of the day, you’ll have good luck.”
“You know it probably has city germs on it. You could get sick, Miss Bristol, and your treasure would be nothing but a curse.”
“Come on, Heron.” She sticks out her tongue. “Do you always have to be such a huge downer?”
I don’t answer. She moves to an empty seat across from me and falls asleep again.
Okay. It’s worse than I thought. She’s damn near talking in nursery rhymes.
Ruby’s right, and I admit I’m being a downer over something harmless.
Fine, dammit.
I’ll make sure she gets her break. A well-rested employee is a happy one, and happy employees are statistically more productive, longer lasting, and yes...
Less insane.
9
The Fireman’s Pregnant Tinkerbell (Sabrina)
Magnus Heron and I sit in the back seat of the town car, the tinted windows hiding us from the outside world. He’s in his button-down shirt and slacks. His blazer hangs over my back, draped there since he noticed I was shivering. The royal blue hue contrasts with my ivory dress.
I’m sleepy but content.
His powerful arms are tucked around me, and I lay my head on his shoulder, just like I did on the plane. He presses his lips to my forehead, lingering there, a sweet and sensual forbidden kiss that takes me by surprise. I tilt my chin up.
Is it wrong I want his caustic mouth on mine when it’s so gentle?
Yes.
Oh, but I still want it. Bad.
The scene swirls away as Dad hammers the wall hard enough to wake the dead, trying to fix something in the house that’ll only wind up more broken.
“Stop, Dad!” I scream.
The banging continues. I wish he would’ve found something else to do when he retired from machining. Idleness isn’t for everyone.
“Miss Breztle, will you let me in please?” a muffled feminine voice with an accent calls.
Huh? Giving up on sleep, I push the thick comforter down and blink my eyes open. Was the voice part of the dream?
I blink one more time, letting my eyes scan the area.
No town car. Definitely not my parents’ house.
I’m in a swanky hotel room in L.A. and I ache all over.
Thankfully, I’m still sane because I definitely did not let Magnus flipping Heron put his lips anywhere near my skin.
Right.
Brina, get a grip. He’s your boss, and he’s a swinging dick. You can do much better.
I scoff at myself.
Yeah, no. I probably can’t do better than an uptight billionaire, but personality-wise, I think a horned toad would beat Magnus hands down.
“Last call, madame! If you don’t answer, I have to move on,” the mystery voice calls.
It’s real. Oh.
“I’ll be right there,” I say, stumbling out of bed.
I realize I’m in a tank top, and I don’t know who wants me. Grabbing the big white bathrobe with the gold hotel crest across the chest, I throw it on and cinch the belt.
Then I pad over, opening the door, unsure what I’m expecting to find. But whoever it is knows me. She called me by name...sort of.