Boyfriend. Girlfriend.Such simple words to fill him with such joy.
He brushed her hair back to kiss her temple. “Didn’t you yell at your friends yesterday for taking advantage of my generosity in the kitchen?”
“But your pancakes smelled so good! And unlike those freeloaders, I’ll totally repay you.” She batted her lashes at him and he laughed. As precious as her moments of vulnerability were, he really did live for her sass.
“Okay then. One stack of ‘Josie deserves good things’ pancakes coming up.”
She sat up and caught his hand as he walked past the bed. “You’re my best thing.” Sincerity vibrated through her as she brushed her lips over his knuckles, and his heart swelled.
“Ditto,” he said hoarsely, then set out to show her just how much he loved her, using a griddle, batter, and some syrup.
Twenty-Eight
Josie walked into work on Monday like a whole new woman.
“I am spectacular,” she whispered to herself, remembering the ferocity in Erik’s voice as he cradled her face and spoke those words to her. Not only did Erik say so—Erik, herboyfriend,wholovedher—but more importantly, he showed her. He listened to her suggestions. He trusted her to make decisions. He absorbed her temper and dried her tears and kissed her senseless. That kind, funny, unexpected man looked at her and didn’t see the underachieving, unpredictable mess that everyone else in her life did. He looked at her with affection and respect. That kind of treatment would change any woman’s outlook on life.
The thought sent a shot of Fizzy Lifting Drink through her veins that propelled her through the lobby and up the elevator to her floor. But no Monday-morning good mood ever lasts, and within minutes of her arrival, terrible Val buzzed by her desk with a stack of papers that Josie recognized immediately.
“No way, Val.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
The woman’s lips thinned. “Somebody needs to itemize these vendor expense reports. Gil needs them by the end of the day.”
“And the person to do that would be Jennifer. Remember her? You and Gil hired her after I got promoted to managing my own projects. I believe she sits at the desk next to yours and shares a printer with you.” Josie kept all traces of sarcasm out of her aggressively pleasant voice, even giving Jennifer a little wave from across the room. The sturdy blonde cheerfully waved right back before returning to her computer.
Valerie flicked an annoyed finger on top of the stack of paperwork. “Jennifer’s busy drawing up a launch plan for the new restaurant from Chef Andre. She doesn’t have time for this kind of work.”
Chef Andre opening a new restaurant was news to Josie, and it really, really shouldn’t be.
“When I was promoted, we agreed that I’d be consulted on the assignment of all launch plans, and the new department assistant would be responsible for presenting itemized invoices to clients. Jennifer’s the new department assistant.” Josie’s voice was flat because she knew with a certainty what Val’s next argument would be.
Sure enough, Val tilted her head and spoke in a maddeningly patronizing tone. “But Jennifer’s so well suited to that kind of work. After all, she has a hospitality management degree from—”
Josie’s pleasant face fell away. No more. Thanks to an Erik-related self-esteem boost, she was done taking shit from people who disrespected her, starting with her mother. And if she was prepared to slay the ice queen the next time they met, then she could certainly handle Val, a mere snow cone pretender.
“I swear to God, if the next words out of your mouth are about Jennifer’s academic credentials…” For a moment her worst Josie instincts buzzed to life and whispered to her to grab those invoices and shove them into the shredder. But in the next moment, she drew a deep breath and remembered Erik’s steady blue eyes on her, the press of his fingers against her skin, his low voice in her ear reciting all the ways he found her valuable. Found her worthy.
Just like that, the buzzing stopped, and her impulse to create a fireable scene faded.
“Valerie,” she began, and look at her being all adult and not calling her “terrible Val” like she wanted to, “I have been with this company for six years now, and I’d like you to stop referring to my lack of a college degree as a liability.”
Valerie’s nostrils pinched. “You don’t need to be so sensitive. Nobody here cares about that.” She sniffed.
Josie offered a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes but showed plenty of teeth. “Idon’t care, and Gil doesn’t care. Our many satisfied clients don’t care. The only person who seems to care around here is you. But you know what, Valerie?”
She lowered her voice, and Valerie, looking a little wide-eyed at Josie’s unexpected forcefulness, leaned in to catch her next words. “I don’t care what you think,” she said. “I only care that you respect my position in this company and that you give this paperwork to Jennifer while I take over planning Andre’s launch.”
Val’s mouth dropped open. Snapped shut. Dropped open again. “Well. Well, I’ll…” She gripped the papers to her chest and looked around the open-plan workspace, as if to see if anyone had witnessed their interaction. “I’ll just see if I can find Jennifer then.”
Valerie started to back away, and Josie offered another smile, a real one this time.
“I think you’ll find her four feet away from your office chair.” Josie gestured grandly at Jennifer. “Oh, and Valerie? If you ever cut me out of a meeting with my own clients in the future, I’ll tell Gil whoreallyforgot to set the brake on his golf cart just before it ended up in the water hazard at last year’s company outing.” Josie laughed lightly when Val’s face drained of color. “But I’m sure that won’t be necessary. We’re all on the same team here, right?”
Three hours later, Josie was elbow deep in possibilities for the Andre restaurant launch, which Jennifer had gratefully handed over, when the chirp of her desk phone pulled her away from her media-outreach calendar. A glance at the caller ID had her leaning back in her chair with a chuckle, stretching her legs underneath her desk and getting ready for a lengthy schmooze.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite newsman. How ya been?”
“Peachy. And how’s my favorite redhead?” Yousef Bahar had the booming voice of a 1960s anchorman, but he’d made a career for himself behind the camera as a news producer. What a waste of a set of pipes.
