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“You might have heard rumors that he was trying to buy the paper you worked at.”

Is she in my head?

I nod again, and she smiles.

“Yeah, those were true. He was buying it for me. Unfortunately, Mr. Klein started playing dirty, and my father does not like to do business that way. You were one of the big reasons that I wanted that paper. When the deal fell through, he gave me money to start something of my own, and I’ve created one of the top lifestyle blogs in the country.”

“Wow, I’m honestly not sure what to say.” My brain feels jumbled with all this new information and everything that happened earlier. I can barely form a response as my mind races, trying to process it all.

“I understand. It’s a lot to take in one day. Just tell me that you’ll think about working with me. I really believe that adding you to the team and adding in the advice column will make Champagne Dreaming a household name.”

“I’ve honestly never thought about writing an advice column.” I’ve always been a reporter, and even though I wanted to do something different with my column, this never occurred to me.

“There was this article you wrote about a year ago about a robbery but instead of focusing on the facts of the case, you talked about the victim. You wrote about how hard he had worked to build his business and how devastated he was walking into the building with you and seeing his dream torn apart. I knew, at that moment, that you would be perfect for this position.”

I nod, remembering the article she’s talking about. It was right when I started to feel drained from being a crime reporter, and I wanted to give the article a personal feel. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, honesty radiating off her. “Listen, I’ve got to get going but please think about my offer. Take a couple days to check out the blog and make sure it’s the right fit for you. I really hope we get to work together. This is what I’m able to offer you as a salary but if there is anything else you need, please call me and we can discuss it. I’m serious about getting you on my team.”

She writes a number down and then hands me a card, and I take it, looking it over for a second before looking back up at her. The number she wrote down is more than I’ve ever made at the paper, and it’s tempting to say yes right now. She flashes a smile and holds her hand out as she stands. We say good-bye, and when she leaves, I sink back into my chair and sigh, wondering if this is the right move for me or if I’m going to be looking for a job tomorrow.

Chapter Six

Alison

Pulling up in front of my house, I throw the car in park and lean back against the seat, closing my eyes as I let out a heavy breath. Today has been a crazy day, and I’m completely drained. It’s only one in the afternoon but I’m dying for a big glass of wine and my bed. It’s five o’clock somewhere, right? Not like it matters since I don’t have to be anywhere anytime in the near future. When I marched out of Mr. Klein’s office this morning, I was so damn sure of myself but as I sat in that coffee shop, watching the various people walk by, I realized that I’ve got nothing. I have no job, and I have no plan. I open my eyes and turn to grab my bag out of the passenger seat, the business card from Mercedes in the cup holder grabbing my attention.

I pick it up and read over it before lifting my gaze to the street in front of me. There is a part of me that’s screaming to accept this job but I have reservations, and to be honest, I’m not really sure why. I think it’s mostly to do with the fact that I was offered this job out of the blue so quickly after quitting. My dad is a firefighter, and my mom teaches second grade. They taught me from a young age that I would have to work for everything I got. When most kids were just filling out applications for summer jobs and hoping for the best, I was calling and checking in with employers each day to see if they’d read over my application yet. If I had an interview, I prepared for hours the day before, and once I got the job, I did whatever was asked of me. So it’s a little unsettling that I literally didn’t do a single thing to pursue this job. Or maybe I’m just reeling from everything that happened today. I didn’t even have time to process the fact that I quit before I was considering another job. And then there’s this tiny little voice that is kind of excited about this prospect but I can’t decide which feeling I should trust.

Climbing out of the car, I shut the door behind me, and grab my box of stuff out of the back before starting up the front walk, smiling when I look up at my little house. It’s my first house, and I’ve put so much work into it to make it my own. There is a mix of old and new that represents both sides of me. I found the columns that line the front porch in a salvage yard downtown and fixed them up. The black metal porch railing was new and plays off the white columns perfectly. The sweeping brick stairs are original to the house, and I’m lucky that they were in such good condition when I bought the place. Now, with all the work done, this truly is my little sanctuary.

I’m jerked from my thoughts by a little tinkling sound, and before I can turn around to investigate, something slams into my back. I fall forward, my knee hitting the pavement hard as the box flies up in the air, all the knick-knacks from my desk scattering across the lawn. I cry out in pain, rolling to my side and hugging my injured knee to my body. I try to breathe through the pain as tears sting my eyes. After a moment, I try to move it. My mouth opens again as the pain shoots up my leg but no sound comes out, and I wonder if I’m going to have to call an ambulance.

That’s exactly what I need today.

Something cold and wet pushes against my cheek, and I open my eyes, blinking in surprise when I come face to face with an adorable chocolate Lab. We just stare at one another for a moment before I burst out laughing, and the dog cocks his head to the side. Of course I would get rugby tackled by a dog. Could this day get any more bizarre? I push myself up into a sitting position, wincing at the pain in my body. Besides the pain in my knee, my entire body is starting to ache like I was in a car accident. The dog lets out a little whine, and I pat his head. He leans into my touch, and I can’t help but smile.

“Well, hello there, puppy. You didn’t need to tackle me for some attention.”

He licks my face, and I laugh again as I scratch behind his ears. He lets me love on him for a second, his whole body leaning into mine like he can’t get enough, and his exuberance lifts my mood.

“You’re just a sweetheart, aren’t you?” I ask, and he tilts his head up, his eyes drifting closed. I stop petting him to inspect my knee, and I swear I hear him huff in annoyance.

“Spoiled little pup,” I mutter as I look down at my leg and wince. Blood runs down the front of my shin, and there’s a pretty good gash in my knee but the tights I’m wearing are obstructing my view so I won’t know just how bad until I get inside.

“Bear,” someone yells, and I look to the dog at my side as he cowers beside me.

“Is that you?” I ask, and he peeks up at me, looking sheepish.

“Bear!”

“Over here,” I yell out, hoping that whoever it is can hear me as I peek down at him again, petting his head softly. “Did you run away from your owner, big guy?”

At my sweet tone, his tail wags again, and I laugh.

“Jesus Christ,” the same voice exclaims, and I shake my head at Bear before glancing up. My jaw pops open as I’m immediately captivated by the epitome of every bad boy fantasy I’ve ever had, running across my lawn, his long strides eating away the distance between us. The white t-shirt and dark jeans he’s wearing mold to his body perfectly, giving me the most delicious tease of the muscles underneath.

“Shit. I’m so sorry. I need to fix that damn fence. Are you okay?” he asks, stopping in front of me and running his hand through his dark hair. His gaze is focused on my knee but I’m devouring every little inch of him that I can see like a starving woman. I’m suddenly aware of exactly how long it’s been since the last time I had sex, down to the very second. My body is aching with need as I shamelessly eye fuck this stranger in front of me. He crouches down in front of me, and my gaze is drawn to the short beard lining his strong jaw. My fingers twitch with the desire to reach up and run my fingers across the coarse hair. And I can’t stop myself from imagining what it would feel like scraping against my skin.