Page 8 of So Not My Thing
“You can do both. He’s made his decision, and the client gets what the client wants.”
Miles wouldn’t. I’d find a way to make him someone else’s headache without him firing the firm all together.
“All right,” I said, standing again. “I guess I’d better go set up some showings.”
And figure out how to get him off my client list. There was no way Miles Crowe would ever be worth the trouble.
Chapter Three
Iwas a frustratedmess when I slammed the door to my apartment shortly after five that afternoon.
When Chloe didn’t immediately demand to know what was wrong, I realized she probably hadn’t made it home from work yet.
I stripped off my suit and threw the jacket in the corner. It was going to have to be dry-cleaned before I wore it again.
If only they could dry-clean my memory, and they could remove the section where I met Miles Crowe for the first time and I was covered in beignet dust.
I flopped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling.
I mean,seriously?
There had been only one objective this morning: fly completely under Miles Crowe’s radar, then never see him again. Instead, I’d stood out in the worst possible way, and now I had an appointment with him tomorrow.
“Hey, universe? You suck.”
The universe didn’t answer.
I put on joggers and a tank top and went downstairs to the café for sympathy. Jerome was almost done wiping down the kitchen, all except for the counter where Miss Mary worked on the bread dough she would leave to rise overnight for sandwiches the next day. Then they’d lock up, and Jerome would drive her home.
“Hey, sugar,” Miss Mary said, glancing up as the kitchen door closed behind me. “You hungry? I can whip up an omelet for you.”
“No, that’s okay, I’ll do it. Want one?” I walked into the commercial fridge and grabbed the ingredients I needed.
“No. Douglas has some red beans and rice waiting for me.” Miss Mary punched the dough, her face relaxed. Maybe I needed some dough to punch.
“Lucky. I guess you’ll be having red beans and rice for dinner too, Jerome?”
