A Wright Christmas - K.A. Linde Page 0,68

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TURN THE PAGE TO READ A SNEAK PEEK OF WRIGHT WITH BENEFITS…

Wright with Benefits

Chapter 1 — Annie

A brisk wind whipped around my bare legs, swirling the skirt of my black dress, and flipping it upward Marilyn Monroe style. I shrieked, batting at the material in a desperate attempt to bring it back down to an acceptable length. The wind didn’t seem to hear my string of curses, because it just bit into my harder, making me regret forgoing tights.

“Oh my God,” I snapped as I clutched the dark material in my hands.

The wind just whistled in response. A cackle if I’d ever heard it.

I glared up at the stupid Lubbock wind. It wasn’t enough that the temperatures were in the low thirties already at five-thirty on this Friday afternoon right before my last semester of medical school started; the wind just had to rub it in.

“Annie, what are you doing standing out here?” Cézanne asked. She wore a black jumpsuit that highlighted her dark brown skin with her box braids pulled up into a high ponytail. She somehow looked professional and like an imperious, avenging angel. “It’s below freezing.”

I prayed to the Lord for patience and grinned at my closest friend in my cohort. “The wind attacked me.”

She eyed me skeptically. We’d known each other pre-med school and she still sometimes looked at me like I’d sprung a second head.

I waved her off. “Whatever. I’m not having a good day.”

Which was an understatement. My house had flooded! Like straight flooded. My room was a wreck. I’d lost half of my closet including all of my shoes. Like every pair except the impossibly high snakeskin heels that I’d scrounged out of a pile of donation I hadn’t gotten to yet. My room was essentially a wash until maintenance showed up. I’d be living on the pull out couch for the foreseeable future.

If that hadn’t been bad enough, I’d been nearly run off the road on the way here. Some dipshit had driven straight through a red light and I’d had to swerve to avoid getting T-boned.

Today was officially over.

I stepped inside of the rustic building the medical school had rented for the event and Cézanne closed the door.

“Well, if you’ve been having a bad day, I hate to ask, but where’s the wine?” Cézanne asked warily.

“What wine?”

“The…wine. You know the case of commemorative wine for Professor Rodgers and the rest for the retirement party. The entire school is coming and…there’s no wine.”

“What the hell? Who was in charge of that?”

Cézanne looked at me blankly.

“No,” I told her.

“It has your name next to it.”

I shook my head. “I swear I wasn’t in charge of the wine.” She passed the list to me and saw where my name was scrawled unintelligibly. I groaned. “Are you sure it was even called in? I didn’t do it.”

“I’m not sure who called it in, but I have the original order request.”

“Let me see it.”

I plucked it out of her hand and stared down at it. Phew! It was three thousand dollars worth of wine. The commemorative case along was a grand. Well, no wonder Cézanne was wondering where the hell all the wine was.

Unfortunately it didn’t say who had put the order in. But I knew for a fact it wasn’t me.

I took a deep breath and then released it. “How can I help?”

Cézanne grinned. “Can you please call the Wine Boutique and find out what happened?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Thank you. Thank you. I knew I could count on you