One Bossy Offer (35)

“The coffee mogul? Right. He’s an actual hero for the way he rescued his wife from that creeper,” I say, remembering the headlines. “I wish my boss had a fraction of Lancaster in him, or even your Brock.”

“Don’t let him get away with anything, Jenn. He’s totally buttering you up and trying to convince you to sell,” she tells me.

I grin painfully.

“I know. That’s why I negotiated just enough to fix up the inn with money to spare. The jerk knows he’s basically helping me keep the place.”

But while she laughs, I frown.

Is he really so awful when he’s shooting himself in the foot to help me?

Maybe not.

But I can’t say the same for the way he held me so close, his eyes all quicksilver and heated glances, and then dropped me like an ice cube after dancing.

I’m not mentioning either bout of that insanity to my best friend. She’ll never let me live it down.

Luckily, Coffee whines and we start walking. I have to speed walk to keep from racing ahead, giving his leash a firm tug to slow him down.

“The boy’s getting restless. I will say it’s been an interesting few weeks. It might not be so bad if I hadn’t drunk texted him—”

“Wait, what? You drunk texted Miles Cromwell?”

“Not literally. I was texting you and I got confused,” I admit glumly.

“Classic Landers!” She snorts. “Remember when you sent that Tinder idiot my picture from your camera roll?”

I throw her a sour look. “Remember when we agreed to never discuss that again?”

Seriously.

The meathead fell in insta-lust with Pippa and bombed my phone with dick pics from four different numbers I had to block. Reason number 999,999 I want nothing to do with the hellscape of Seattle dating—or swipe dating in general.

“What’d you say to him?” she insists.

Heat pumps under my face. “I was telling you what a hot jerk he was and how it should be illegal for him to be so hot.”

“You sent that? You’re killing me.”

“Yeah, and he’s never going to drop it as long as he has a pulse.”

“And this was before you signed on to work for him?”

“Dude. I couldn’t turn down that kind of cash.” I smile sheepishly. “You’ve seen the repairs Bee Harbor needs.”

“I can’t tell if you already have a crush on this guy, or a hate-crush.”

“There’s a difference?” I look at her and blink.

Even the dogs stare at me like I’m about to burst into flames.

“We just work together, Pippa. Hand to God.”

Her mouth twists into a pout. “You’re my best friend. If I had a crush, I’d tell you. You knew about Brock and all the crap he put me through from the second he came barreling out of the shower.”

“Whatever. Maybe I do have a crush.”

“See how easy that was?” she says smugly. “Now, since I know a thing or two about grumpy rich men and happily ever afters—”

“Not on Cromwell! On Ace,” I spit.

“What’s an Ace?” Her face falls.

Yikes.

I’m starting to think this guy’s biggest flaw is his name.

“Not what. Who.”

“Okay, who is Ace?”

I tell her all about how I inherited the hottest handyman ever. Thanks again, Gram.

“The handyman, though?” Jenn clucks her tongue. “Jeebus. You’re the one who always made fun of those cheesy Christmas movies.”

“Well, living one of those cheese flicks changes your mind.”

Piper rolls her eyes and scratches Cream’s ruff when the dog gives her a worried look.

We reel the Dobermans in closer as we head into town, slowly approaching the first corner with the general store.

We’re about five feet from the door when Dracula himself walks out, his big arms loaded with—what else?—flipping paint supplies.

Too bad Coffee’s excitement overwhelms his doggy brain.

The brat bolts, galloping to a genuine run.

Oh, no.

I try tightening the leash. I also don’t want to hurt his neck and I didn’t think to put them on harnesses.

Not fast enough.

He flies forward as my hand slips, the leash flapping behind him. I’m lucky I don’t topple over onto Pippa.

“Coffeeeee! No!” she screams too late.

I scramble up, unpeeling myself from the concrete just as Miles shuffles the stuff in his arms and pulls out something wrapped.

Coffee spins circles and then settles into an excited sit as he rips off the papery covering.

Miles pats his nose and passes him a piece of beef jerky.

Heart, meet knees.

“...you’re bribing my dog now?”

Make that dogs, plural. Cream isn’t far behind, shoving her white muzzle greedily at his hand for her bribe.

“It’s a treat, Miss Landers. He’s better behaved than you. Aren’t you glad I stopped at the butcher across the street? And for your information, I’ve given Coffee treats longer than I’ve known you.”

Oof.

I hate that he has that flex, thinking back to the first day he came to the inn.

I expected Miles to freak out before my robe was unceremoniously yanked open, but he just said, “Not today.”