wallet.
“It’s…” I slid onto the stool beside her
and shrugged. “It’s different.”
“Yes, ma’am, it is.” She pushed a thick
black curl behind her ear, causing her gold triple drop earring to swing back
and forth. “What did you say you did before?”
I hadn’t mentioned it, but I’d gone over
my pseudo-history so many times with Pen that I could probably tell people more
about Lizzie Connelly than Gemma Emerson. “I worked for the VP of a
telecommunications company.” I twisted the corner of the drink napkin in front
of me. “My job was mostly answering the phone, not—”
“Picking up Margaret’s laundry, trying to
remember her coffee order, and harassing people she thinks owe her for their
existence?”
Stunned by the unconcealed animosity
dripping from her beautiful accent, I stopped tracing the whorls in the
counter’s worn wood and looked up at Stella. “You said it,” I replied
carefully.
“Believe me, it’s easier to say when
there’s nobody around to run and tell her.” She turned her attention to the
blond bartender who was busy drying glasses a few feet away and called out,
“Hey, Luisa? Can I get a lemon drop and a—” She looked at me over her shoulder.
“I’ll take a bottle of Pumpkin Ale,” I
told Luisa, who winked at us before starting our order.
Placing her elbow on the counter top, she
rested her chin in her palm, drumming her scarlet-painted fingernails gently
against her cheek. “Didn’t take you for a beer drinker.”
“I’m not,” I admitted. “ But I’m a
bit of a Halloween junkie and anything pumpkin-flavored goes with the
territory, including seasonal beer.”
“Mmm. You know, the company throws this
big Halloween charity gala for foster kids, and—”
I cringed. “Don’t remind me, I spent most
of Friday and today playing phone tag with the event planner.” I’d quickly
learned that verify the final details with Natalie Roche meant that it
was my duty to stay on top of the event planner until after the party.
“I’ve always heard good things about
Natalie,” Stella said, her forehead creasing. “She’s not rude, is she?”
The bartender slid my beer in front of
me, and I gave her an appreciative nod. Tipping the bottle up, I swallowed a
liberal amount before shaking my head. “No, she’s nice. Hell, she’s probably too nice. I just—”
Noticing my hesitation, Stella leaned
closer to me, her expression firm. “Honey, if I planned to tell you-know-who
everything you say about her, I would’ve just asked you to come to my office.
Anything said here is between you and me.”
Dipping my face close to her ear, I said,
“The party is in two weeks. Natalie has everything ready—I mean, I personally
have a walkthrough of the venue scheduled with her next week—but Margaret still
has me harassing her a few times a day.” It wouldn’t have been so bad if I called
the event planner with legitimate concerns, but it had gotten to the point
where I felt like a broken record. Adding that to the fact she was thirty-six
weeks pregnant and had another major event scheduled for this week, I was
certain Natalie wanted me to go jump headfirst off a cliff.
I straightened my back and rolled my
eyes. “Plus Margaret loathes waiting for a callback.”
“Lord, just now you sounded exactly like
her. That woman loathes a lot of things.” Raising her glass, Stella shivered in
delight as she took the first sip of her drink. “Ahh, I needed that. We’re
launching a new marketing campaign, and it’s been a pain in my ass.”
I nodded understandingly. “How long have
you been there?”
“At Emerson & Taylor?” she asked, and
I moved my head up and down. “Just under a year. During that time, Margaret’s
gone through two assistants.”
“Three assistants in a year is a little
outrageous.” I ran my finger around the rim of my beer bottle. “So what
happened to them?”
“Know that lovely little NDA Dora had you
sign on your first day
“It’s…” I slid onto the stool beside her
and shrugged. “It’s different.”
“Yes, ma’am, it is.” She pushed a thick
black curl behind her ear, causing her gold triple drop earring to swing back
and forth. “What did you say you did before?”
I hadn’t mentioned it, but I’d gone over
my pseudo-history so many times with Pen that I could probably tell people more
about Lizzie Connelly than Gemma Emerson. “I worked for the VP of a
telecommunications company.” I twisted the corner of the drink napkin in front
of me. “My job was mostly answering the phone, not—”
“Picking up Margaret’s laundry, trying to
remember her coffee order, and harassing people she thinks owe her for their
existence?”
Stunned by the unconcealed animosity
dripping from her beautiful accent, I stopped tracing the whorls in the
counter’s worn wood and looked up at Stella. “You said it,” I replied
carefully.
“Believe me, it’s easier to say when
there’s nobody around to run and tell her.” She turned her attention to the
blond bartender who was busy drying glasses a few feet away and called out,
“Hey, Luisa? Can I get a lemon drop and a—” She looked at me over her shoulder.
“I’ll take a bottle of Pumpkin Ale,” I
told Luisa, who winked at us before starting our order.
Placing her elbow on the counter top, she
rested her chin in her palm, drumming her scarlet-painted fingernails gently
against her cheek. “Didn’t take you for a beer drinker.”
“I’m not,” I admitted. “ But I’m a
bit of a Halloween junkie and anything pumpkin-flavored goes with the
territory, including seasonal beer.”
“Mmm. You know, the company throws this
big Halloween charity gala for foster kids, and—”
I cringed. “Don’t remind me, I spent most
of Friday and today playing phone tag with the event planner.” I’d quickly
learned that verify the final details with Natalie Roche meant that it
was my duty to stay on top of the event planner until after the party.
“I’ve always heard good things about
Natalie,” Stella said, her forehead creasing. “She’s not rude, is she?”
The bartender slid my beer in front of
me, and I gave her an appreciative nod. Tipping the bottle up, I swallowed a
liberal amount before shaking my head. “No, she’s nice. Hell, she’s probably too nice. I just—”
Noticing my hesitation, Stella leaned
closer to me, her expression firm. “Honey, if I planned to tell you-know-who
everything you say about her, I would’ve just asked you to come to my office.
Anything said here is between you and me.”
Dipping my face close to her ear, I said,
“The party is in two weeks. Natalie has everything ready—I mean, I personally
have a walkthrough of the venue scheduled with her next week—but Margaret still
has me harassing her a few times a day.” It wouldn’t have been so bad if I called
the event planner with legitimate concerns, but it had gotten to the point
where I felt like a broken record. Adding that to the fact she was thirty-six
weeks pregnant and had another major event scheduled for this week, I was
certain Natalie wanted me to go jump headfirst off a cliff.
I straightened my back and rolled my
eyes. “Plus Margaret loathes waiting for a callback.”
“Lord, just now you sounded exactly like
her. That woman loathes a lot of things.” Raising her glass, Stella shivered in
delight as she took the first sip of her drink. “Ahh, I needed that. We’re
launching a new marketing campaign, and it’s been a pain in my ass.”
I nodded understandingly. “How long have
you been there?”
“At Emerson & Taylor?” she asked, and
I moved my head up and down. “Just under a year. During that time, Margaret’s
gone through two assistants.”
“Three assistants in a year is a little
outrageous.” I ran my finger around the rim of my beer bottle. “So what
happened to them?”
“Know that lovely little NDA Dora had you
sign on your first day
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