Chapter 3

• She chuckles as she steps back behind the counter. “Yes, but thanks to you, the newsroom has been dragged into the twenty-first century.”
• I lean against the counter and drool slightly at the array of muffins and homemade pastries on display.
• “Usual?” she asks.
• I nod, eyes locked on a Cronut, I absolutely should not be considering eating. “You’re the devil,” I mutter.
• Her eyebrow rises as she follows my gaze. “Are you talking to the Cronut or me?”
• I screw up my face. “Both. Seriously, do not let me eat any more of those. I’ve put on three pounds since you started making them.”
• She looks me up and down as she tampers down my coffee. “Oh, puh-lease. You look exactly the same as you did in high school.”
• Since I know for a fact I don’t because I was reading my yearbook last night, I’m ready to argue the point, but when Chloe inhales sharply as the door opens behind me, I don’t even have to turn around to know who it’ll be.
• To confirm it, I turn slightly and find Grayson Cole staring right at me. His eyes are locked on mine, and he’s still just as intense as I remember.
• Only Grayson Cole isn’t sixteen years old anymore. He’s bulked out, has a beard, and he smells as incredible as he looks.
• I’ve lost all ability to speak, and I’m no longer sure if it’s the baked goods making my mouth water or the man standing right in front of me.
• He looks at Chloe, then his gaze lands on me again, but there’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice that surprises me. “Isabel?”
• I swallow hard and wish I’d taken a little more care with how I dressed. I try for a smile and am painfully aware Chloe is taking in this awkward little reunion.
• I clear my throat and try to sound casual. “Grayson? What are you doing here?”
• He doesn’t reply but looks over my shoulder at Chloe. “I’ll take a quad shot black to go. And put whatever she’s having on my bill.”
• Chloe looks bemused as she nods and pushes my coffee toward me. “She’ll take a couple of Cronuts to go then.”
• My mouth opens, and I’m ready to protest when he drops his voice so low, I have to lean in to hear him. “Your boss told me you’d be here. He’s agreed to loan you to me.”
• Indignation rushes through me as he shifts closer and leans across to grab my coffee. “Loan me? I’m not a fucking car!”
• His arm brushes against mine, and a shiver travels through my body as he meets my eye. “We’ll talk on the way.”
• Instead of letting him know how much his presence is affecting me, I pull my shoulders back and grab my coffee before he can. “On the way where?” I say.
• He glances at Chloe, who’s trying not to look at me, then grabs my arm and pulls me away.
• I tug back, but he shakes his head and again, his voice is quietly controlled as if he doesn’t want anyone overhearing. “I know this is a surprise. But right now, all I care about is whether you can work with me or not?”
• I shrug out of his grip and match my voice to his. “You just show up like this and expect me to drop everything? I haven’t seen you in eight years!”
• The tension in his face remains, as he gestures upstairs. “Your boss is allowing you to write more than a shitty advice column. And that means assisting me for the next week.”
• My jaw slackens, and I’m ready to defend myself and my column when Chloe hands Grayson his order and hands me a bag of Cronuts.
• Grayson barely looks at her, just motions to the door. “This isn’t the best place to talk.”
• Without another word, he stalks away, leaving me engulfed in a cloud of intoxicatingly masculine scent.
• From behind me, Chloe whistles low. “Who is that? He’s insanely hot,” she mutters.
• I frown at her, but my stupid feet are already edging toward the door. “He’s bad news, that’s who,” I mutter.
• As I stumble towards the door, I’m still trying to figure out how Grayson Cole has somehow landed right in my lap.
• With a sigh, I push through the doors into the sunlight and find Grayson waiting impatiently beside an extremely shiny and brand-spanking new BMW.
• Couple that with the expensive suit he’s wearing, it’s obvious he’s doing very well for himself.
• He takes a sip of his coffee and sends me a look that makes my toes curl. “Get in. I’m running late as it is.”
• In my frustration, I hurl the bag of Cronuts at him. “If you want me to help, you’re going to have to give me more than pastries,” I mutter.
• He frowns but barely misses a beat as he catches them in one hand. “I don’t have time to give you anything right now,” he growls.
• I send him a loaded glare; yank open the door and climb inside. He slides in, pushes his coffee into the cup holder, and switches the engine on without a word.
• My temper is growing as he buckles his seatbelt. “Okay, so I’m in your damn car. Now, will you tell me what’s going on?”
• He looks almost as irritated as I feel when he pulls out into traffic. “I need some help while I’m in town.”
• I frown at him, wishing I could slap him. “What kind of help?”
• He glances at me, his eyes running the length of me, making me squirm under his scrutiny. “You have a dress? Something you can wear to a cocktail party?”
• My eyes pop. “What?”
• He takes another gulp of his coffee before he replies. “There’s a party tonight. I need a date for it and for another few events over the next week.”
• I nearly choke on a laugh. “That’s what you need me for? Are you kidding me? I am not going to be your date, not tonight, not ever.”