Her eyebrow arched. “And that’s supposed to be a compliment?”
“I’m starting to think maybe my criteria are wrong,” I admitted.
She looked at me for a long moment, something shifting in her expression. Then she popped the last of her cookie into her mouth and said, “Expect a message with notes on everything you’re doing wrong.”
“I look forward to it.”
“You shouldn’t.” But she was definitely smiling now. “I’m very thorough.”
She walked away, leaving me standing there with my warm gin and tonic, my cookie spreadsheet, and the distinct feeling that I’d just met someone who was going to turn my entire world upside down.
The sugar cookies were still winning, I noted absently. But somehow, the data didn’t seem as interesting anymore.
2
DANIKA
Caffeine. Immediate. Non-negotiable.
I stumbled off the elevator like a zombie in business casual, laser-focused on the one thing that could save me. Reboot Coffee Bar. It was barely bigger than my condo, but it had espresso, and that was enough.
A snickerdoodle latte sounded amazing—but after last night’s cookie swap, I was still about eighty-percent sugar, and I kind of regretted it. Better stick to my usual oat milk vanilla latte, sugar-free syrup, and a sprinkle of delusion that I’d “cut back.”
Yawning hard enough to dislocate something, I shuffled through the lobby, past the dark glass-walled offices that made the place feel like a post-apocalyptic co-working space. Maybe I’d come back later with my laptop to get some work done. Gabriella’s endless videoconferences were slowly melting my brain, and I had data to clean.
More accurately,hisdata.
Nicholas. The hot dork from the cookie swap last night.
A smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. He was one of those penthouse-floor types. Translation—rich, techy, and probably had a fridge that sent him push notifications. Thatwas normally not my type. Those guys tended to be kind of…algorithmically optimized jerks.
But Nicholas? He was different. For one, he was into numbers like me. He was confident but not arrogant. Okay, maybe a little arrogant—but in the way that made you want to argue with him just to see him smirk.
The barista behind the counter was scrolling on her phone—understandable, considering the place was dead. The only other person around was sitting off to the left, hunched over a laptop. My caffeine-deprived brain took a second to process it, but…yeah. That was him.
Nicholas. The hot dork himself. Looking unfairly good for someone who’d been knee-deep in data chaos twelve hours ago.
He hadn’t noticed me yet. Too busy scowling at his screen like it had personally insulted his mother.
I should have kept walking. Ordered my latte, gone back upstairs, maybe sent him a polite text later with some thoughts. Professional. Distant. Safe. Instead, I found myself drifting toward his table like a moth to a very attractive, spreadsheet-wielding flame.
Three empty coffee cups formed a semicircle around his laptop. A fourth coffee sat at his elbow, still steaming. He looked like he’d been here a while.
He looked like he was losing his mind, actually.
“You know,” I said, stopping at the edge of his paper explosion, “caffeine overdose won’t fix bad methodology.”
His head snapped up, eyes wide. For a second, he just stared at me like I’d materialized out of thin air. Then recognition hit, followed by something that looked suspiciously like relief.
“Danika.” He said my name like it was an answer to a prayer. “You’re here.”
“I’m grabbing a much-needed dose of caffeine. You’re the one lurking in the lobby at—” I checked my phone. “Seven forty-three in the morning.”
“I’m not lurking. I’m working.” He gestured at the chaos. “I’ve been here since six.”
“That’s definitely lurking.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “Okay, maybe partial lurking. I was hoping you might come through. Kyle mentioned you work from home most days, so I assumed you’d need to grab coffee at some point.”
