Drive(55)
Her eyes narrowed. “You just blew in like the tornado you are and screwed everything up. You aren’t an innocent victim. You’re drama and you know it. It’s my job to look after you but, hey, you want freedom, you’re on your own now.”
“Don’t I know it!” I yelled as I got out of the car and she moved to stand on the other side of the hood. “I didn’t do it to hurt you, Paige.”
“But look at us now, none of us talking. Nothing’s the same.”
“And that’s because of you!” I said as I slammed her car door. “I get that you didn’t want us together, and I see that you were looking out for me, but now you’re just damning us!”
“It’s a mistake, Stella.”
“Then it’s my mistake to make!”
She just shook her head and got back in the car. I stood stunned as she lost her cool and tore out of the parking lot.
It was going to be a long summer.
After my shift, I begged Leslie to use her office computer. Reid didn’t have internet, and that was a big problem. With all the upheaval, I hadn’t taken the time to find an internet café. My mouth dropped when I saw I had missed a few emails from Nate. My smile was instant. The first one was dated the day I had drenched his crotch with salsa.
Nate Butler
Subject: Decisions
2:32 AM
Salutations post countless beers,
I find it amusing that you work at a place called The Plate Bar. Did those idiot owners even research the name? I’m sitting on a patio at my best friend’s place, staring at the city lights, and I’m wondering where you are. I swore I wouldn’t bother you after beer one, and then decided on a formal email after beer three. But I still can’t afford you. It’s sad, really. So, the countdown begins, Miss Emerson. And though it’s just a few short months away, I find myself wanting to make one last effort to persuade you to go out with me (for research purposes of course). I have two tickets for the Ritz this Saturday.
GET. IN. MY. TAHOE.
Nate Butler
Editor in Chief, Austin Speak
Sent via Blackberry
I threw my head back and then looked up the concert I’d already missed.
“DAMNIT TO HELL!” It was Sheryl Crow.
Nate Butler
Subject: Courtesy
5:01 PM
It is my understanding that a drunken man extended a concert invitation to you last night. And while I do not condone that sort of behavior, especially from a future employer to employee, I find it extremely rude that said invitation has not been acknowledged. Teamwork is key here at Austin Speak, Miss Emerson. I can only assume you take your position seriously and are against the feminist lyrics of Sheryl Crow. My apologies. Moving forward, I will refrain from extracurricular emails, but will settle for a second interview, in my office, by 6:00 p.m. today.
Nate Butler
Editor in Chief, Austin Speak
Sent via Blackberry
My laughter continued as I realized I’d missed not only the concert but also my second interview at Austin Speak. I had to hand it to him, he was determined. The last email came yesterday.
Nate Butler
Subject: Oversight
11:11 AM
It occurred to me that you may not be receiving these emails, but I think we both know, Miss Emerson, that is not the case. And since I have no proof of this, I have no choice but to believe that you remain steadfast in your decision to not mix business with research, however disconcerting that may be due to the nature of our profession. But for the sake of office morale, I may be so inclined to have a beer at our place at around 6:00 p.m. this evening to discuss this issue.
Nate Butler
Editor in Chief, Austin Speak
Sent via Blackberry
I smiled as I pulled up my email to compose a reply.
Stella Emerson
Subject: Deadlines
9:42 PM
Dear Mr. Butler,
I am flattered by your correspondence and excited about the chance of working with you. Due to my current situation, I am unable to receive emails in a timely manner because of connection issues. I will be remedying this situation within the coming weeks. While all invitations are appreciated, I prefer to do my research alone. I am happy to report that things are rapidly progressing with my articles and they will be delivered to you in two months’ time.
Best Wishes,
Stella Emerson
Future Entertainment Columnist, Austin Speak Sent via The Plate Bar
Minutes later, I was counting my tips and paused when I saw his idling Tahoe through the front door. I pressed my lips together to hide my smile as the heavily tinted driver’s side window rolled down.
“Best wishes, Miss Emerson?” Nate asked with a smirk.
“It’s professional, Mr. Butler,” I said, approaching him. The subtle hint of expensive and mouth-watering cologne drifted out of the SUV as I looked him over. His hair was mussed, and his tie was pulled loosely to rest on his chest. Sexy as sin, his blue eyes scoured me with intent. I was momentarily dazzled until I remembered I had a hit waiting on me.