Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
With new marching orders, they get up to leave. At the door, they pause and look back. “You sure you’re good for the night?” Billy asks.
Ricky backhands his brother. “Don’t question our good luck, asshole. I’m hanging with Miranda and not running tonight. It’s like Christmas Eve already.”
Billy glares at Ricky before turning back to me with a sigh. “We can do weights if you need a workout.”
I smile, shaking my head. “I’m good, guys. I’ve got . . . plans . . . already. I’ll see you tomorrow unless you find out something.”
Chapter 18
Tiffany
“Good morning. Thank you for calling Fox Industries. How can I direct your call?”
“They’re on the third floor. I’ll call to have someone come down and meet you.”
“Okay, just get me that package by two, okay?”
It’s a typical morning at Fox Industries, and down here, we’re working hard. I’ve got Megan and Stephanie directing the occasional traffic that comes in and juggling the phones while I handle the intra-office communications.
The surge we’re in dies down after a long stretch, and Steph and Megan look over at me. We have matching wide eyes of holy hell, what was that? I take a breath to settle my own racing heart, and Steph and Megan take deep breaths of their own. “Well, that was fun.”
“I can’t believe Accounting ordered three dozen vegan, gluten-free cookies. Why bother? Just have a carrot and call it good,” Stephanie jokes.
Megan grimaces. “It’s not the cookies, it’s that they didn’t give us a heads up about the delivery! And then they expect us to stop everything and escort the cookie guy upstairs.” She throws her hands wide, indicating that we’re way too busy to play chaperone.
“They came down, didn’t they? I saw Liana coming in like a wrecking ball.”
Steph snorts. “Yeah, she thought she was gonna give us a piece of her mind, but one glare from sweetness over there” —she points at Megan, who has a reputation as the ‘do anything for anyone’ type— “and Liana realized she’d better keep her mouth shut and go. If the nice one is about to suffocate you with your own five-dollar-apiece cookie, this petty bitch right here will make sure you only eat cookies through a straw for the rest of your days. Slurrrp.” Steph slides her hair behind her ear sassily. “I am not the one to mess with.”
She’s venting, not actually threatening Liana, so I don’t go MegaManager on her. Liana is a bit of a Karen-in-training, anyway, so I might be inclined to take an unscheduled potty break if Steph did need to draw some boundaries with the woman.
“Incoming,” Megan warns.
Shit. Maybe I’m gonna have to test my loyalty to Steph, after all. I look up, expecting to see Liana heel stomping her way over. But it’s worse . . . so much worse.
“Arnold?” My eyes instinctively flick to the clock as I wonder just how much time did pass during that busy rush. But no, I’m not wrong. “You’re early.”
Okay, maybe Steph and I are two peas in a pod because it’s more accusation than observation.
“Priority delivery,” Arnold says, pulling out a two-inch-thick envelope. “Sign.” No manners, no small talk, and dry as can be. He’s like oatmeal that hasn’t even had water added yet and definitely has no goodies like honey or cinnamon.
I sign and take the envelope, which flops slightly like it’s got papers inside. He reaches for his electronic signature doohickey, but I hold it hostage.
“Arnold, are we your favorite stop on your route?” I ask. “You know, to drop your packages off?”
What the fuck, Tiff? Stephanie glares at me. You did not just ask Arnold about his packages! Megan is kinder, giving me a look that’s more bewilderment than Stephanie’s savage disbelief.
Arnold must have no sense of humor—or social skills—because his eyebrows knit like a sweater and he frowns. “Favorite? Don’t have one.” The very idea sounds foreign, and I imagine his brain repeating the word . . . favorite, fav-o-rite, favor-ite?
I pout, a gesture that would normally reduce a man to a blubbering pile of jelly. I really am just having fun, and to be honest, seeing if I can get past Arnold’s no-nonsense armor. “I’ll do my best to not be offended. Because we both know you’ll be excited to come back to see us again this afternoon for pickup.”
Arnold shrugs. “As long as you have everything ready.”
It’s clipped, but I can sense a tiny amount of softening. Maybe I’m finally making progress to getting on his good side? If he has one.
Switching gears, I try a smile. “Hey, do you feed the dogs on your route? I saw that on TikTok but wasn’t sure you’re the dog-loving type. You seem like more a cat man to me.”
“No, dogs usually try to bite me. I hate cats too.”