“And you think that’ll work?”
“Works for Kylie Jenner.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“It means we can get a drink at AJ’s before we call it a night.”
I’m not in the mood for people. “Taron’s working on two new accounts. He can use the help. Did you drive here?”
“Uber.”
Perfect. I lift my blazer off the back of my chair then scoop up my phone and keys. “I’ll drive you home. I want you in his office first thing in the morning.”
“You’re the boss.”
“Glad you remember.”
He laughs like nothing is wrong, and after the day I’ve had, I decide to leave it there for now.
5
Raquel
“I was a little freaked out. I didn’t even have my computer password yet. But it was all in French, so I had it done in a few hours.” Balancing my phone on my shoulder, I spoon take-out chicken Pad Thai into a bowl.
“Oh, yeah, they excel at starting you off hard and never letting up. You’ve got to find a way to impress Patton. That’ll knock him off his high horse.”
I take a bite and nod, even though she can’t see me. “You were right. Patton Fletcher is something else.”
“Don’t fall for him.” Renée’s voice is distracted, and she says it more like a mantra.
It kind of worries me. “Did you?” I silently hold my breath waiting for her answer.
“Did I what?” The noise of banging fills the line, then her voice goes loud. “Fall for Patton Fletcher? Lord, no! I actually try to protect my emotional health.”
My eyes close as I exhale slowly. Thank God. “He’s kind of stern.” And hot as fuck.
“Stern? That’s a nice way of putting it. He’s a pushy, insulting, arrogant, demanding—”
“He’s the boss?” It’s a gentle tease.
She huffs out a sarcastic ha. “Bosses don’t have to act that way. He’s a jerk.”
Stabbing the slippery noodles with my fork, I think about the sexy man in question. “I didn’t think he was a jerk. He more, sort of… hyper-focused.” I take a big, spicy bite of chicken and crunchy carrots and broccoli. Delicious.
“Has he insulted your wardrobe yet?”
I make a little noise of defeat. “I’m not sure if it was an insult. He asked me if I was going to a funeral.”
“Ha!” She fake-laughs. “Asshole. Like everyone was born with a trust fund, inherited their dad’s successful business, and shops at Armani all the time.”
“I’m more a Balenciaga gal myself.” I’m really trying to diffuse the tension. I wasn’t that mad about his comment, and once I ditched the blazer, he was downright friendly.
“How’s it going with Hazel? Is she treating you like the help?”
“She’s okay. Her cat count has officially risen to ten.”
“Ten! How many cats is too many?”