Page 4 of So Not My Thing
I scooped one up and treated myself.
Mmmm.I closed my eyes to savor it. I knew exactly what went into a beignet. Just flour, oil, butter, and the sugar, really. But somehow, they were magic, and this was a good one.
Surely you know what happened next. Surely.
Yeah.
Suddenly every head in the office turned toward the door, and almost like puppets jerked up by their strings, they all rose and headed toward me in the conference room while Brenda went to greet with a smile the man who had ruined half my life.
Chapter Two
Ibarely had time tostudy Miles Crowe before he and his manager were trailing Brenda into the conference room, Miles already extending his hand to each of us for a shake.
He was still hot.
Shoot.
I didn’t have time to set down my dainty dessert plate with the remnants of powdered sugar on it before he was turning to me, but that ended up working to my benefit. When he held out his hand to me for a shake, I gave him a polite smile and a nod toward the plate, like, “See? Hands full.”
He shot me a quizzical look, and I froze for a second. Had he recognized me? We’d never met in person, but my face had been everywhere on the internet for years, and it was possible.
But he didn’t say anything before turning toward the next person, so I dropped my plate into the trash can and walked to my seat. Walking had never felt more complicated. I wanted to strike the perfect balance between casual and purposeful. Instead, I kept fighting the urge to hunch and scurry.
I forced my shoulders back until I caught Dave’s eyes widen and realized that my subtle power stance looked more like I was sticking out my boobs. I dropped my shoulders faster than a Mardi Gras necklace could hit the ground at a parade and slid into my seat to watch Miles work the rest of the room.
“I thought people were supposed to look shorter in real life than they do on TV,” Donna, the office manager, said quietly from her seat next to mine, “but he looks taller.”
“I guess.” Her comment gave me a reason to study him for a few seconds while Dave took his turn getting his handshake. Miles had filled out since he was a teenager, growing into the promise his broad shoulders had shown on his skinny frame back then. He was still on the lanky side with a build more like a runner than a gym rat. Although...he wore a fitted black sport coat, and the plain white T-shirt beneath it hinted that he made time for the gym. His distressed jeans and worn black Converse saved him from looking like a douchey frat-bro and more like a low-key star. Back then, his thick, dark hair had a tendency to flop and curl. Now it was cut with some length on top—not enough to spill over everywhere—and a close fade on the side.
“Well, let’s get started, shall we?” Brenda said, leading him and his manager to the seats on either side of her at the head of the table.
“Sorry we’re late,” Miles said. “We were—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Brenda was already waving away the rest of his words. “You’ll find Crescent is a very laidback environment.”
Donna kicked my foot beneath the table. It would be fair to say we were somewhat flexible, but I didn’t think Brenda had ever had a single laidback moment in her life. She was hard-charging energy, all the time.
