Page 2 of The CEO I Hate (The Lockhart Brothers #1)

“Let the man through! He’s probably late to ruin the economy.”

“In case it wasn’t obvious, they’d like you to know that the back of the line is over there,” I said, gesturing with my thumb. “This isn’t your private jet.”

Liam bristled even more as the crowd’s heckling kicked up another notch. His annoyance seeped out in the heat of his stare. If I was drawing him for my webcomic, he’d have steam coming out his nostrils right about now. “Do you always have to cause a spectacle?”

“You started it, Mr. Rules-Don’t-Apply.”

He huffed, running a hand through his hair, which was just unfair. He had no business looking this hot when he was worked up.

“Wait, hold it right there,” I said, lifting my phone and snapping a picture of him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting real-time inspiration for later. The lighting in here highlights your scowl perfectly. I like Miles to be as accurate as possible.” His face turned stormy as he towered over me.

He’d always been tall, but standing this close, I had to crane my neck to look him in those blue, blue eyes.

His hair was longer than he normally wore it, long enough to run my fingers through.

My pulse quickened at that thought, and I beat it back into a dark hole.

“Delete that.”

I lowered my phone, pretending to examine the photo. “I don’t think I will, Smiles.”

“Do not call me that.”

“But it’s really some of my best work.” Miles plus the fact Liam wouldn’t know how to smile even if the Joker himself came and carved one on his face…Calling him Smiles just made sense. “It suits you so well.”

“If that’s your best work, it’s no surprise the studios haven’t been banging down your door,” he growled.

My jaw tightened. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, please. What was the last real writing job you had? ”

“The webcomic is real writing,” I said, my cheeks heating.

He leaned toward me, close enough that I could have counted every piece of stubble on his jaw. God , he smelled so good it was unfair, like cedar and linen and something darker I didn’t want to name. “Sure. If brooding bad boys and flat stereotypes are all you can pull off, it counts.”

My pulse skyrocketed, anger racing through me. “Flat stereotypes? Excuse me! Miles is a well-rounded, three-dimensional character.”

Liam snorted. “Three-dimensional? I’ll buy you a dictionary so you can look up the actual definition of that word.”

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t the most well-developed character, but he wasn’t supposed to be. He was a supporting character, playing up the most mockable of Liam’s traits so I could use him for comic relief.

“Beyond just standing in a corner and grumbling under his breath, what exactly is his purpose?” Liam cut in. “If you ask me, he completely lacks depth.”

“I don’t know, you seem to make grumbling under your breath into a full-time job,” I shot back. And my writing most definitely did not lack depth!

“He’s the most ridiculous character on the internet.”

“You’re ridiculous. So it fits!” Liam’s eyes flashed, or maybe that was simply my imagination, but as the barista called me forward, I marched past Liam, determined not to let him have the last word. “And at least Miles has enough depth of character to know not to cut in line.”

“Yeah! Back of the line!” the crowd behind me booed at him.

I smirked, glad for the support, even as a tiny bead of doubt crept in and settled between my ribs. I hated to admit Liam’s biting question had actually hit the mark. What was the last real writing job I had…

He knew it was a sore spot for me that I was stuck scraping by on freelance technical writing to make ends meet while I waited for that ever-elusive big break.

No little girl dreamed about growing up to write reports and briefs and instruction manuals, but it was starting to seem like I was never going to hit my goal of writing for a TV show or having one of my scripts optioned.

And screw Liam for throwing that in my face.

The flame of rejection burned even hotter, and a flush crept across my cheeks. I hated that. I hated him.

I surged to the counter, eager to be done with Liam and this conversation. Before I could even open my mouth to place my order, Kelsey appeared with a steaming cup and a take-out bag, sliding them toward me.

“One chai tea latte and a chocolate croissant,” she said. “To go.”

“Thanks,” I said, reaching for my wallet.

She shook her head. “Forget it, girl. This is on the house.”

“No, I can’t let you?—”

“Seriously,” she said. “You deserve it for putting up with Jerky McJerkface over there.”

I shot her a quick smile. “You’re my hero.”

She flipped her hair. “I try.”

I took my coffee and my pastry and walked over to the self-serve bar, adding a few sprinkles of cinnamon to the top of my latte and sliding a coffee sleeve onto the cup.

From the corner of my eye, I watched Liam finally make his way up to the counter. “Can I get a cappuccino with oat milk? ”

“Sorry, sir,” Kelsey said flatly. “We’re out of oat milk.”

I could see the oat milk on the counter behind her.

“Almond milk is fine,” Liam’s voice came out rough, edged with irritation.

Kelsey pretended to look around. “Oh no! We’re out of that too.”

“Soy?”

“We’re—”

“Out of that.” Liam’s jaw flexed. “Yes, I’m starting to see a pattern.”

Kelsey shot me a wink, and I sucked in a breath, grateful for badass baristas and chocolate croissants. To hell with Liam! I wasn’t going to let him make me feel shittier about an already shitty morning. I took a sip of my latte, then strode past him, head held high.

“It’s all right, Smiles,” I said, taking a modicum of joy in his displeasure. “I’ll make sure Miles gets a barista scene next time. With oat milk. And a soul.”