Page 98 of Desserts for Stressed People

“I haven’t left.”

His full lips part and his brows rise. With the sun streaming through the window and brightening his dark brown irises, he gapes at me. “Since yesterday?”

Since yesterday. I told him I needed to work when he left last night, and I meant it. When I looked up from my computer again, it was three in the morning. No point in leaving the office, considering I wasn’t halfway done with my list of urgent tasks.

“Heaven, you’re going to give yourself a nervous breakdown. Actually, you might givemeone if you don’t take better care of yourself.”

“I’m tougher than I look,” I say with a lazy smile. “I’ve talked to the security company. They’ll send me their quote for twenty-two extra guards.”

Inhaling deeply, he sets his harsh gaze on me. “You need to rest—”

“I need to do my job and do it right,” I insist, trying to reassure him with a smile. “I’m here to save your ass, am I not? This is what that looks like.”

He clicks his tongue, but before he can argue, Emma storms into the corridor and steps by his side. “Look who’s joined at the hip, now,” she says as she peeks into my office.

“Emma, sorry, sorry, sorry. I can’t come to lunch, I forgot to text.” I groan, pointing at the screen of my computer. “I have a ton of things to—”

“No, go to lunch,” Shane says as he walks to me and pulls me into a standing position. “You haven’t had a break in twenty-four hours. I bet you haven’t had a proper meal either. Go.”

I’m about to protest, but his fiery gaze tells me there’s no point. Mr. Asshole’s peeking through the cracks, and he’s daring me to disagree. “Okay, I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“One hour. Go. You need to eat if you’re gonna save my ass.”

“Fine. Bye,” I grumble as I grab my bag, but my pout does nothing to stop the smile across his face as I step by his side, nor does he move away to let me pass. Instead, I need to step sideways to make it out of the office as he takes most of the entryway. When I do, his eyes roll down my body, then back into mine, and he looks at me like I’m the best news he got today.

It’s new, and quite frankly, spectacular. More than that, it’s dangerous to think how easily I could get used to it.

* * *

After a quick lunchand lots of swooning with Emma, I’m back in my office. A blue and white checkered dessert box sits on my desk, and it soothes my nerves better than any prescribed medication ever could. I open it, and there’s more than a ribbon and a box for me to save this time. There’s a note.

As I grab it, my heart tumbles, and joy flickers all over my skin like the gentlest of pinches.

Dear Miss Asshole,

I didn’t forget about our bet. This is your favorite dessert. Whether I’m right or wrong, I deserve a kiss for the effort. Come on a date with me on Saturday?

Yours indeed,

Mr. Nice

I rush to his office, ignoring the judgemental looks I get on my way. He’s on the phone, but he motions at me to come in. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

He grins, holding the phone to his chest. “Yes, it’s your favorite dessert or yes, you’re coming on a date with me?”

“Yes to the date. I don’t know what that thing is. Looks yummy, though.”

“It’s a coconut truffle.”

“Not my favorite, I’m afraid.”

He runs a finger along the collar of his shirt. “Good. I can’t wait to guess again. Raincheck on that kiss?”

“You bet.”

Another phone rings, and with a sigh, he takes it out of his pocket. As impressive as juggling two phones and a conversation is, knowing this jobisn’this dream makes me sad. If I could, I’d open a bakery for him, then force him out of IMP. I’d make him follow his dream and soothe all his fears about it.