One Snowy Night (Heartbreaker Bay #2.5)(30)

“My name’s Keane by the way,” he said. “Keane Winters.”

He paused, clearly expecting her to tell him her name in return, but she had a dilemma now. If she told him who she was and he suddenly recognized her, he’d also remember exactly how pathetic she’d once been. And if he didn’t recognize her then that meant she was even more forgettable than she’d thought and she’d have to throw the penis headband at him after all.

“And you are . . . ?” he asked, rich voice filled with amusement at her pause.

Well, hell. Now or never, she supposed. “Willa Davis,” she said and held her breath.

There was no change in his expression whatsoever. Forgettable then, and she ground her back teeth for a minute.

“I appreciate you doing this for me, Willa,” he said.

She had to consciously unclench her teeth to speak. “I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Petunia,” she said, wanting to be crystal clear. “And you’ll need to be back here to pick her up before closing.”

“Deal.”

“I’ve got a few questions for you,” she said. “Like an emergency contact, your driver’s license info, and”—-God help her, she was going to hell if she asked this but she couldn’t help herself, she wanted to jog his memory—-“where you went to high school.”

He arched a brow. “High school?”

“Yes, you never know what’s going to be important.”

He looked amused. “As long as I don’t have to wear a headband of dicks, you can have whatever info you need.”

Five extremely long minutes later he’d filled out the required form and provided the information needed after a quick call to his aunt—-all apparently without getting his memory jogged. Then, with one last amused look at her reindeer antlers a.k.a. penis headband, he walked out the door.

Willa was still watching him go when Rory came to stand next to her, casually sipping her coffee as she handed over Willa’s.

“Are we looking at his ass?” Rory wanted to know.

Yes, and to Willa’s eternal annoyance, it was the best ass she’d ever seen. How unfair was that? The least he could’ve done was get some pudge. “Absolutely not.”

“Well we’re missing out, because wow.”

Willa looked at her. “He’s too old for you.”

“He’s thirty. What,” she said at Willa’s raised brow. “You’ve got the copy of his driver’s license right here on the counter. I did the math, that’s not a crime. And anyway, you’re right, he’s old. Really old.”

“You do realize I’m only a few years behind him.”

“You’re old too,” Rory said and nudged her shoulder to Willa’s.

The equivalent of a big, fat, mushy hug.

“And for the record,” the girl went on, “I was noticing his ass for you.”

“Ha,” Willa said. “The devil himself couldn’t drag my old, dead corpse out on a date with him, even if he is hot as balls. I gave up men, remember? That’s who I am right now, a woman who doesn’t need a man.”

“Who you are is a stubborn, obstinate woman who has a lot of love to give but is currently imitating a chicken. But hey, if you wanna let your past bad judgment calls rule your world and live like a nun, carry on just as you are.”

“Gee,” Willa said dryly. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. But I reserve the right to question your IQ. I hear you lose IQ points when you get old.” She smiled sweetly. “Maybe you should start taking that Centrum Silver or something. Want me to run out and get some?”

Willa threw the penis headband at her, but Rory, being a youngster and all, successfully ducked in time.





Accidentally on Purpose

Chapter 1



#TakeMeToYourLeader

IT WAS A good thing Elle Wheaton loved being in charge and ordering people around, because if it wasn’t for the thrill of having both those things in her job description, she absolutely didn’t get paid enough to handle all the idiots in her world. “Last night was a disaster,” she said.

Her boss, not looking nearly as concerned as she, shrugged. He was many things and one of them was the owner of the Pacific Pier Building in which they stood, located in the Cow Hollow district of San Francisco. A detail he preferred to keep to himself.

In fact, only one person besides herself knew his identity, but as the building’s general manager, Elle alone handled everything and was always his go--between. The calm, kickass go--between, if she said so herself, although what had happened last night had momentarily shaken some of her calm.

“I have faith in you,” he said.

She slid him a look. “In other words, ‘Fix it, Elle, because I don’t want to be bothered about it.’ ”

“Well, and that,” he said with a smile as he pushed his glasses further up on his nose.

She refused to be charmed. Yes, he was sexy in that utterly oblivious way of smart geeks and, yes, they were best friends and she loved him, but in her world, love had limits. “Maybe I should recap the disaster for you,” she said. “First, the little lights in every emergency exit sign in the entire building died at midnight. So when Mrs. Winslowe in 3D went to take her geriatric dog to do his business, she couldn’t see the stairwell. Cut to Mr. Nottingham from 4A—-whom, it should be noted, was sneaking out of his mistress’s apartment in 3F—-slipping and falling in dog poo.”