One Bossy Proposal: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Bossy Seattle Suits)

“Can you look at these before I have to show them to Anna?” Cheryl asks, handing me a bulging folder.

“Sure.” I open it and thumb through the old-school printouts. Even from a few slides, her copy reads much sharper than before. I smile up at her. “Nice job. You’re getting better.”

“Oh, thanks! I started stalking Twitter trends just like you showed me.”

I nod. “See? All you needed was a little inspiration. You always had the writing chops.”

“Oh my God, I’m so glad you came to work with us, doll.” She leans in with a beaming smile. “I thought I’d been at this too long to learn any new tricks.”

“I’m happy I could help, Cheryl.” My heart flutters.

It’s nice to feel like I’ve actually helped someone.

Cheryl’s eyes trail behind me to Lincoln’s office.

“Hey, I can’t help asking… Have you given any thought to the fake marriage thing?” She suppresses a laugh. “It’s the talk of the whole office. Everyone’s waiting on tenterhooks to see if you and Burns tie the pretend knot.”

Yikes.

“Tell them not to wait up forever. It’s not happening. I wish Anna would just drop it,” I say, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice. Mostly because I’m pissed. I don’t need to be reminded how hilariously interesting it would be to get engaged to my hot cactus of a boss. Or how badly I wanted him to kiss me again that night, how my body ached to the bone when he did, and how he’s not actually a total Saguaro cactus at all.

Ugh. He’s a man who secretly helps his homeless best friend.

He’s a man who makes me brittle with his smolder and he takes me apart with a single muted kiss.

I hate that I wonder why he stopped, regardless of the idiot with the bad muffler.

Did kissing me disappoint him? Did it scare him? Was it just too flipping much?

“Sorry if I struck a nerve,” Cheryl says sheepishly. “Anna told me she’s just using it to tease Burns since he hates it so much. Or maybe she hopes you’ll both just do it to shut her up.”

I roll my eyes. I like Anna well enough, but what the hell? Is this multibillion-dollar company junior high school again?

“Ask Anna how much she likes being teased,” I hiss.

“Oh, I think the boss already did that, doll. He tore into her a couple days after that meeting. I don’t think she meant anything nefarious by it, though. She just thought we’d gain tons of traction, and isn’t that the goal these days?”

She isn’t wrong.

Still. Some lines can’t be crossed just for internet clout.

“Mr. Burns is rather strict about not fraternizing with the staff. He was probably upset by the suggestion,” I say, grateful that my boss is a decent guy in the office when he’s not hellbent on pissing me off.

“No, he was pretty adamant that Anna should apologize for embarrassing you and also make sure you didn’t feel like she was told to apologize,” Cheryl tells me with a frown.

“What? Why would he do that?” My eyebrows shoot up.

Cheryl shrugs. “I don’t know, but he went in pretty hot.”

Interesting. I honestly don’t know whether I feel protected or annoyed.

Then, as if saying her name calls her, I hear the click of high heels and a voice that’s definitely running on a double shot of espresso.

“Party at Dakota’s desk!” Anna runs up and rests her hands on the walls of my cubicle. “Is Mr. Burns in?”

“Yeah, but he’s still on a call, I think.”

Cheryl picks up the manila folder from my desk and hands it to Anna. “I have some new social media copy.”

“Great!” Anna opens the folder and starts flicking through it, laughing intermittently. “These are cute. Way to step up the game, Cheryl. The wedding campaign’s on track—well, aside from one thing.” She lifts her head and looks at me pointedly. “I just wish we had a unique hook. A personal touch. Something Vera and the other big brands couldn’t top to save their lives.”

I try not to glare at her. It’s painfully obvious what she means.

“Careful. I told her the boss demanded an apology,” Cheryl says with mock humor like she’s trying to diffuse the whole thing.

It’s not working.

Anna smiles down at me.

“Sorry. It’s a nonstarter,” I say, hating that I always feel compelled to apologize.

“Dakota, everyone notices how you two play off of each other,” Cheryl says.

“He’s ripped and loaded. Just bat your eyes and go along with it. Hell, maybe push for an extra performance bonus. Do you have any clue how many ladies in this office would love to be in your position for free?” Anna says sweetly.

Heat throbs under my face. I bury my head in my hands, willing myself to disappear before I open my eyes again.

Didn’t work.

I’m still here, being tormented by people who are supposed to be on my side.

“That’s enough, you two,” I say, trying to lay down the law. “I have my reasons for not wanting to be a stand-in bride. We’re just not interested and I—”

My desk phone rings, grabbing my attention.

I pick it up with a heavy sigh.

“Lincoln Burns, CEO, this is Miss Poe speaking. How can I help you?” I say with rehearsed politeness.

“Miss Poe, this is security. I’ve got a delivery with your name on it. Should I send it up?”

“What is it?” I freeze in my seat, grateful Anna and Cheryl have at least gone back to chattering among themselves.

“Can’t tell, but it’s pretty long. Light weight. Came in a box. You want me to open it?”

Oof, yeah, as long as it’s not a bomb.

“Sure, open it and then send it up,” I say.

A few minutes later when the elevator opens, a guy wearing a building security uniform steps out with a bulging bouquet of puffy purple hydrangeas. “Dakota Poe?”

Oh, no.

He stops and glances around. A few heavy seconds pass while I’m frozen in my seat before I finally clear my throat enough to say, “Right here. That’s me.”

Unfortunately.

He storms over and shoves the flowers in my face. “Can I put these down?”

“Um, sure.” I start rearranging stuff on my desk to make space like I’m trying to bury my own shame.

I gesture and he sets the flowers down in the empty space I cleared. I have one good guess who they’re from and it’s already making my stomach heave.

“Ohhh, gorgeous! Just the splash of color you need, Dakota. Who are they from?” Cheryl asks, her eyes wide with excitement.

I try not to cringe. I should’ve known it was hopeless, hiding my anti-gift from one of the office big mouths.

“I haven’t read the card yet,” I lie. I find it buried between the flowers and pluck it out, unsure if the lead weight in my belly is mostly anger or dread.

Anna giggles obnoxiously. “We know who they’re from! I think that’s his way of saying he’s game for a little marketing magic.”

Desperation, thy name is Anna Patel.

“You do, huh?” I flip the card open only because I want to prove her wrong.

“Bossman has an eye for lavish gifts,” Cheryl says.

“I wish,” I mutter.

And I actually do wish Lincoln was my secret admirer when I read the blocky words scrawled inside the card.

Can we talk? stares up at me, along with a new number.

Anna can’t see the name. I’m starting to believe she really thinks it’s from Lincoln with the way she giggles. It’s just incredible how the boss might be the least annoying person here today.

“What’s going on out here?” Speak of the devil. His voice drops low as he comes around my desk. “Flowers? Who are they from?”

“Like you don’t know,” Anna says, giving him an exaggerated eye roll. “I knew you’d come around. That email you sent the other day about scouting talent with the model agency was a dead giveaway.”

He glares at her.

I think a full thirty seconds passes where Lincoln’s dark eyes flick back and forth. It’s like I can see him contemplating her termination.

“Oh, well…maybe he doesn’t know. Sorry for assuming,” Anna squeaks, then grabs Cheryl’s arm. “We’ll get out of your hair, Mr. Burns. Lots of campaigns to polish up. Later!”

They both scurry to the elevator like fleeing rats.

It’s so ridiculous it takes the edge off, and I almost laugh.

Then Lincoln’s intense gaze lands on me and lingers until the elevator dings shut.

“Who are they from?” he asks, his voice low thunder.

I hold my hands up, trying to find the words.

“Dakota? You have a hot new date or what?”

Holy hell. The look on his face is one long silent scream of jealousy that makes me shudder.

“Why do you care?” I say with a shrug. “They came from somebody back home.”

A little white lie painted purple. That’s all I’ve got.

Even if we’ve been on better terms lately, I’m not about to explain that my stalker ex keeps sending me unwanted flowers. For all I know, Lincoln might be ludicrous enough to follow through on his threats—though having Jay wrecked right now is very, very tempting.

“I don’t care, Nevermore. Just curious.” He rolls his big shoulders, a tension pulling through him like a cord.

“Don’t waste the mental energy. They’re for charity,” I say, refusing to meet his eyes.

“For such a bad liar, you’re bold,” he rumbles, leaning over me.

My heart skips a beat as I look up, defiantly meeting his swirling brown eyes.

“What? Why would I lie about this? It would be cooler if they were for me.” I know I’m playing with fire, strumming his jealousy strings.

“Cool. Right. Whoever they’re from has trash taste. Hydrangeas are overplayed and barely remarkable. They shout friend zone, not romance,” he says, and I’m surprised he talks like he knows his flowers.

I bite my tongue so I don’t laugh. Also, he isn’t wrong.

“I told you. They’re just for charity. Down, boy,” I say playfully.

“Charity? Only because you don’t like them, and you know I’m right. Whoever sends this shit to a girl wants to make her drier than the Sonoran desert.”

The anger in his voice, his stance, has me feeling something and it’s far from dry.

I swallow thickly before I say, “Yeah, well, why are you hating on my flowers so much? What’s not to like?”

He glares at me and then looks away as if I’ve touched some nerve.

Weird.

“They don’t strike me as Poe flowers,” he says.

“Poe flowers? Do I even want to know what that means?” I squint at him.

“Not bold. Not you. I’d have picked a dozen red roses with their thorns still on the stems,” he growls confidently.

I push back into my chair.

Whoa. Am I that obvious? I hate that he has me pegged, but not as much as I hate wanting flowers from a man like Lincoln Burns.

“Because roses aren’t overdone or anything,” I bite off, trying to save face.

“You prefer something more exotic? Fine. Maybe something dark blue and fragrant from a rainforest in Bolivia. Regardless, I don’t see light purple being your thing.”

I look at him, my brow pushing down.

“It’s not intense enough,” he explains, his jaw tightening with a hot look that cuts right through me. “You’re all bold color, Nevermore. Not washed-out pastels.”

My heart stops like a stuck clock. I’m horrified because that might be the nicest compliment any man has ever given me.

“They’re just flowers, dude,” I whisper. I can’t even fake being angry. “Who wants to go blind looking at a little splash of color?”

Again, a lump lodges in my throat as he gives me the heaviest look ever.

“You,” he says. No hesitation.

Oh my God.

“What-ever, Dishonest Abe,” I say, snapping my face to the side and rubbing my cheek, wishing I could wipe away blushes.

He chuckles. “Very on point today with the banter, sweetheart.”

I look back at him with an annoyed blink.

“Did you just call me sweetheart?”

He shrugs both shoulders, a brash portrait of a man with no regrets.

“Why shouldn’t I? I know you better than the little gnat who sent those,” he tells me.

Crap. If only he were wrong.

How did I almost marry that loser, anyway? Jay never said anything half as sweet as Lincoln.

Granted, I was young and stupid and stuck in a pretty narrow dating pool. Too young for the big moody hero-men in town, who always had their sights set on some other lucky girl.

Maybe I dodged a legit bullet when the asshat didn’t show up at the church.

I’m still up in my head and slow to react when Lincoln grabs the bouquet off my desk.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” I snap.

“Since they’re for charity, I’ll handle these for you. Unless you had a specific charity in mind to give them a new home?” His eyes drill into me, knowing damned well I don’t.

Even so, my mouth drops as I stare back at him.

“As a matter of fact, I know someone who could use them,” I say. He doesn’t make any move to give them back and I fold my arms. “Lincoln Burns, if you give my flowers to another woman, I’ll cut your balls off and bury them under Eliza’s floor.”

He throws back his head and lets out a barking laugh.

“Hell of a way to treat your friends, much less your boss. Why not your floorboards, Nevermore? Or is having my balls up in your business too much for you?” The way he smirks almost skins me alive.

Holy shit. This man. This conversation.

All things that should not be happening.

“It’s logistics, you freak. Eliza’s also my neighbor. I don’t live on the first floor, so burying it under my floor wouldn’t quite work—”

“So you’d rather have your bestie driven nuts by my balls haunting her? Didn’t the man in Poe’s story start hearing the dead guy’s heart? I wonder what sound my jewels would make if you followed through on your little threat.” He looks at me grimly and steps forward, fully invading my space. “I think they’d be shouting Nevermore all the damn time.”

I try to give my best dead-eyed nod, but I can’t help laughing.

This is so dumb. Though I’m impressed he paid attention to something besides making money and growling at people long enough to remember “The Tell-Tale Heart.”

“That’s…creepily well thought out. And also incredibly stupid. Have you ever chopped people up before, Lincoln?” I wonder out loud.

“Nope. Never had to think like a lunatic until your crazy ass showed up. Must be rubbing off.” His lip curls slightly as he looks at me, unmistakable desire heating his eyes.

“Meh. I’ve never had a boss steal my personal property before either, but here we are.”

“Not stealing, Dakota. I’m delivering it to the homeless. There, I found you a good cause and saved you some work.”

I’m about to scream.

How can anyone be such an insufferable dill weed and also Mr. Generosity all at once?

“You sure? I doubt Wyatt eats hydrangeas,” I tease.

His brows furrow and his eyes go incandescent.

Sweet Jesus.

Before Burns, I never knew a man could send you to heaven or hell with a single look.

“I know I’m right,” he says roughly. “Some loser bought you flowers you don’t like. Also, it’s not Wyatt I have in mind.”

“Oh? So now you’re trying to seduce some poor homeless lady with flowers? Dude. Why don’t you start with a hot cup of tea? I’m sure that’d get you laid a lot faster.”

He smiles darkly.

“Some women are old-fashioned. They don’t date before a man’s given them a real gesture. And for the record, you’re the one who brought up getting laid. Fuck, you make me sound like some comic book villain.”

“Well, when you look the part—”

“Poe, if I didn’t know better, I might think you’re just jealous. You’ve got the most eligible man in Seattle running after you all damn day right now. Why ruin a good thing, right?”

Does he hear himself? I could punch him. Seriously.

“Oh, please. I could care less if you’re sending flowers to Vladimir Putin. Just as long as they’re not mine anymore. Have at them, I guess.”

It comes out pretty harsh. He gives me a hangdog look that melts me right down.

“You said they were for charity, Nevermore. I’m being charitable.”

“They were for me to donate. Not have my boss steal the show,” I say sharply.

“Are Anna and Cheryl still giving you a hard time?” he says, giving the flowers a small shake.“I told her multiple times to back off. If she isn’t listening—”

“It’s okay,” I say quickly, not wanting to cause any real trouble for Anna. “Nice way to change the subject when you don’t have a comeback, though. You did that with Wyatt too.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” He glowers. “Are they pushing? I’m serious when I say nobody here has a right to keep clawing at you when I’ve already vetoed the idea.”

“No,” I huff out. “But I’m sure you need people here with a little backbone. I mean, you put up with plenty from me, so why not Anna?”

I try to smile sweetly to distract him and fail.

“You’re such a shit liar,” he grumbles, shaking his head.

“Funny, because I haven’t lied to you. Anna hit me up again, yeah, but I can hold my own. I don’t need teacher to step in,” I say, my tongue flicking between my lips.

It’s kinda involuntary. I don’t mean to razz him. But I guess it does something because he turns abruptly, clutching the flowers to his chest.

“Lincoln? Wait up, I didn’t mean to—”

“I heard the whole thing,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “I saw Anna and Cheryl in front of your desk before I came over here, both of them giggling like eighth-grade girls. They even gave you crap about the flowers. With some attitudes around here, I do need to play teacher.”

Eep. We’re back to scary-hot Lincoln. The Viking Lord in a suit look that turns my tongue to stone.

“It’s honestly no big deal,” I whisper, pleading with my eyes. “Please let it go. Don’t say anything to Anna and Cheryl. They’re good people, even if they’re a little extra sometimes…”

He stares back at me for a long, heady moment.

“Does that mean you like working here then?” he asks gently.

After a long second, I nod. Sincerely.

“We’re the island of misfit toys, right? I belong here. I hope so, anyway.”

I wonder how he’ll take that, but he smiles.

He gives me an honest freaking smile that’s about as rare and gorgeous on him as a sunny day in a Seattle November. God.

“Me too, Nevermore. Thanks for the reminder. This place feels like home for good reason.” With that cryptic comment, he stomps off to his office with my bouquet swinging from his hand.

Overgrown bear. I still never know if I’m getting the short-fused grizzly or the oversized teddy.

But with the flowers out of sight and out of mind, I realize sometime later that I must feel better.

I go back to sorting contracts and printouts, trying not to dwell on how much raw power Lincoln Burns has over my emotions.

After six o’clock, Lincoln comes out of his office with my bouquet in one hand and his laptop bag in the other. He glances over at me.

“Good night, Nevermore.”

I look up, shooting him a look.

“Seriously? You really won’t tell me who you’re giving my flowers to?”

“They’re donations, aren’t they? I told you, they have a home. Unless, of course, they aren’t really for charity and you want to tell me who sent them.” His gaze hardens.

I glare back with arctic defiance.

“They’re for charity. The rest is none of your business.”

If he’s fazed by my challenge, he doesn’t show it. He just turns his back and starts walking.

Ugh.

For some unholy reason, curiosity eats at me like a dog with a bone.

I want to know who he’s giving my flowers to. So as soon as he gets in the elevator, I decide to do something stupid.

I get up and run for the elevator, squeezing into a corner before I mash the button just in case he’s still lingering in the lobby.

Nope. I get to the first floor just in time to see him outside, climbing into the company car as he says a few words to Louis.

I’m too late.

There’s no way I’ll catch up with him on two wheels.

But when I see a flash of yellow driving by, I just can’t help myself. I throw myself outside and gesture for the cab.

Water splashes my shins as the taxi swerves to the curb, spraying the afternoon rain puddles before stopping.

Awesome. Now that I’m drenched, I guess I’m committed.

I climb into the back seat and look around.

Lincoln is two cars ahead of us now, wedged between a sleek sports car and a service van for a cable company.

I point in front of us. “Follow that town car, please.”

The guy in the front seat laughs and looks back at me in the mirror. “Just like the movies, huh? As long as you’re not expecting me to break any traffic laws…”

“Whatever. No. Just follow them!”

I sit back, remembering to breathe. The driver’s reaction reminds me how crazy this is.

Here I am, openly stalking my lunk of a boss who gets in my face about mystery flowers and then seemingly has the perfect place for them. Not something that would rustle anybody normal.

But a normal person would run.

Far, far away from this stupid crush after the half kiss that night overlooking the city that almost detonated our entire lives.

I’m not normal, though.

I’m a freaking Poe.

So I let my brain feast on all the crazy possibilities involving Lincoln Burns and that bouquet as we drive for about fifteen minutes in slow traffic.

We pass Sweeter Grind without the town car stopping, and then wind around the city for a few more blocks.

The other end of the park, I realize.

Oof.

Was he serious about giving my flowers to the homeless? But why would Wyatt want hydrangeas?

I’m totally baffled.

“You want me to make the block before I pull in, so they don’t know you’re stalking them?” taxi driver asks, looking back at me with a nosy grin.

“I’m not stalking,” I lie. “I just need to know where he’s going. Important business.”

The guy throws back a big belly laugh. Yeah, I don’t believe me either.

“Ma’am, that’s textbook stalking, but don’t worry. I won’t tattle. You sure you don’t want to make the block?”

I shake my head fiercely.

“No. Just pull in and keep your distance from the other car…”

I hear driver boy snicker loudly to himself again. One more reminder I’m being ridiculous, but when you’re in this deep…

I watch breathlessly as Lincoln slides out of the town car, nodding at Louis before he starts walking toward the row of tents.

Huh. Maybe Wyatt likes hydrangeas after all? I suppose it could brighten up his space or something.

I wait at least another minute. Once Lincoln seems far enough away to avoid seeing me, I pay the driver and slip out the back.

I think I get five strides down the sidewalk before the cab engine roars behind me—he’d better get that checked out—and Lincoln spins around to face the deafening noise.

There’s only a small group of people walking and riding bikes between us. His eyes find me easily through the crowd.

Oh, crap.

There isn’t even time to get away before he’s coming toward me with a frown. His body is as straight as an arrow, jaw set and shoulders squared.

Here it comes. The cost of this dumb decision. I should’ve just logged out and went home and let some mysteries remain unsolved.

“How did you even hear that car?” I ask as he closes in, deciding to try brushing this off as nothing.

He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me, barely a few inches apart, looking down. “You shouldn’t keep following me here, Nevermore. It isn’t always safe.”

Ah, it’s lecture time. Awesome.

“Chill. I just wanted to see what you were doing with my flowers, and since you wouldn’t spill the big secret…”

“I told you,” he growls, his eyes dark with distrust.

“And I didn’t believe your non-explanation, bossman. You didn’t exactly elaborate,” I mutter.

That wins me a smirk, even as he folds his arms.

“I told you enough. Are you calling me a liar, Dakota Poe?”

“Depends. Why does Wyatt want my flowers?” I say, flicking back a loose strand of hair.

But Lincoln stops me. He reaches out, swats my hand away, and tucks the hair behind my ear with slow, measured practice.

My toes scrunch up in my shoes.

It’s insane how even the simplest touch makes me a flaming mess.

“He doesn’t want flowers, and neither do you,” he says, his eyes reaching into me.

Oh, God.

Stay strong.

“So, you do have a homeless girlfriend?” I ask, hating that I feel a flick of jealousy. I don’t even know her and she probably isn’t real, but I already want to claw her eyes out with my nails. I’m just annoyed she might exist. But part of me also wants to slap him for allowing his made-up girlfriend to remain homeless.

“Poe, you’re a rotten sleuth. Of course not. You think I have time to date after you went snooping through my bullshit on social media?”

I cock my head, staring up at him, hating how good he is at putting on the mystery man air.

“Then why are we here? Do you just like driving me bonkers?” I huff out a loud breath.

That twinkle in his eyes—the way the evening lights catch and shine—says he just might.

“I’m here to see Wyatt. You’re here because you’re a freaky little stalker.” He sighs, suppressing a laugh. “Can I be straight with you?”

I glare.

“Sure. I’m trying to think of a time where you’ve been anything less than blunt…” A breeze blows around us, fluttering more of my hair loose for him to fix.

“I don’t care that you followed me. I care about your safety. You came here once when I knew you’d have somebody around and I was expecting you. I wouldn’t have let anything happen. But if I don’t know you’re here and you come snooping around—”

My laugh cuts him off. “C’mon. I’m not some damsel in distress who needs Burns-man to the rescue.”

Again, his mahogany eyes darken with an overprotective look that makes me shudder.

“It’s not funny. You can take care of yourself, but you’re from a small town and you don’t spend much time in places like this. There are lot of good people here and a few fucking rats.” I should be touched at how uptight he gets about my well-being, I guess.

“But you just said it. I can take care of myself. You’re also my boss—not my freaking bodyguard—so what does it matter if I decide to take my chances?” I smile up at him sweetly.

He doesn’t roll his eyes, even if I can feel his frustration curdling the air around us.

“Dakota, coming here alone after dark to spy on me isn’t a choice. It’s dumb as hell,” he says bluntly.

Harsh. But I can’t say he’s wrong.

I knew this was a bad move the minute I rushed down the elevator.

“Would you walk in front of a charging bull for kicks too?” he asks. “You’re too smart for that shit. Too intelligent to get hurt, all because you have something to prove. That isn’t the woman I know—the one I hired who thinks before she trips over her own feet.”

He’s scowling, practically grinding his words, and it’s so hilariously intense I feel weirdly touched. Dallas was mostly a sleepy town growing up, and nobody ever got growly about my decisions or my safety. Not even Jay.

“Are you listening?” he bites off, his eyes still drilling through me.

“Yeah, daddy dearest. I heard you loud and clear through all that grumping.” I’m blushing the second it’s out, realizing how I’ve butchered my choice of words.

If there’s one man on the planet I should not be calling daddy, it’s the beast in front of me who has my entire future in his hands.

“I’ll show you real grumping, if I need to,” he says, scratching his face to hide a slight, adorable redness under his scruff. “If my right hand needs a lesson on common sense, so be it.”

“Temporary right hand. And I’m thinking the one that’s attached to you is just fine unless you’re like, into a sock or a fleshlight or something.”

He snorts and his lips almost turn up in a smile.

“Dammit, Nevermore. Are sex and murders all you think about?” He snorts again, shaking his head sharply. “And for your information, I only need to worry about one right hand. The other works just fine and it doesn’t fly solo. I put it to work on whoever’s getting me off.”

Gah.

My face is on fire. My next breath shakes me to my core.

How did we wind up talking about Lincoln’s sex life again?

I’m just grateful he doesn’t extend the torture when he glances around the park, looks at me again, and says, “Since you’re already here, come on.”

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to catch up since he’s already moving.

“You’ll see.”

I follow Lincoln to the familiar row of tents spaced apart, but this time we stop before we get to Wyatt’s. We’re in front of a faded pink tent instead.

He bends down and places the flowers in an empty coffee can in front of it. As they’re settling, I notice there’s a tiny note attached to the wrapping paper.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, my brows pulling together.

In the distance, a grinning Wyatt waves to us.

“Burns? It really is you. Come on over. I brewed up something good,” he says.

I give Lincoln a puzzled look.

“Don’t say anything. They’re for Meadow, the only person besides me who bothers to check in on Wyatt. She’s young and kind of cute. I know he likes her, so what’s the harm in dropping a few flowers on his behalf?” He shrugs. “She likes plants. He calls her Miss Green Thumb.”

My lips turn up in a smile and I almost fall over.

“You…you big idiot. You’re playing matchmaker?” My lips quiver because I still can’t believe it.

Every time I think I have this man figured out, he bowls me right over again.

“Quiet. Don’t let Wyatt hear,” he grumbles.

I nod and don’t mention it again as we walk, still trying to bite back a smile.

“Come on already. Damn, you guys are slower than snails and that’s coming from the guy on one leg.” Wyatt sits on a few stacked wooden beams in front of his makeshift campfire.

“He’s impatient today,” I say.

“He’s in a good mood if he’s brewing coffee. I haven’t seen that in months. We’re going to have to pick up the pace.” Lincoln’s steps grow into a jog.

I struggle to keep pace.

He reaches the campfire before me and drops down on a box. I slow down and catch my breath as I approach them. Smoothing my skirt, I’m about to take a seat on the big crate beside Lincoln when Wyatt looks up with narrowed eyes.

“What the hell, man? Are you gonna let her ruin that pretty dress?”

But before he even finishes, Lincoln shrugs out of his blazer and lays it over the space next to him. Smooth.

“Lincoln, that’s okay, you don’t have to—I’m fine.”

I am so not fine. Seeing my grumphole in a suit acting chivalrous makes me feel things I should not be feeling in any universe that still makes sense.

“Wyatt’s right. Sit down, Nevermore.”

I can’t even say no. I just drop down beside him, leaving a sliver of space between us.

“Here. You have to try this.” Wyatt ladles out a dark liquid in a disposable cup he takes from a sack beside him. He passes it to Lincoln first.

My nostrils flare as I catch the scent. Fragrant coffee, and it smells like it’s strong enough to peel wallpaper.

Lincoln sniffs the cup and smiles.

“Smells mighty good.” He takes a small sip. “Damn, I like it. Tastes smoky.”

I swear I see Wyatt standing a little taller, less hunched over. He’s proud of his brew and it’s just…nice. Insanely nice to see this broken man care about something besides pastries and basic street survival.

“You want some, Dakota? I don’t have cream and fancy stuff to go with it,” he warns with a shine in his eyes.

Honestly, black coffee and I don’t get along, but I can’t stand being rude.

“Yes, please. I’ll give it a shot. Just pour me a little,” I tell him.

With a friendly nod, he ladles that jet-black rocket fuel into a second cup and passes it over. I’m a little afraid it’ll melt my throat. It smells like Eliza’s whole apartment after an entire day of cooking up batch after batch of rich espresso and pourover concentrate.

“What trouble are you two in tonight?” Wyatt asks.

Linc takes another hearty pull off his cup, totally unruffled by the potent drink.

“What else? I came to see you. Dakota’s just stalking me.”

“I am not, Wyatt. I…I came to see you too.” I stumble over my words, realizing how weird that sounds. “I was hoping you might have a story or two. I’m a fiction writer—a poet, really—when I’m off the clock. I’m always looking for inspiration. How could I know we’d both show up at the same time?”

Lincoln doesn’t even look at me but lets out a sigh that says, Nevermore, you suck.

“Pure coincidence. Always the best kind.” Wyatt ladles himself a drink and glugs down half the contents in one gulp.

“Exactly,” I say matter-of-factly.

Wyatt’s eyes trail from Lincoln to me. “By the way, if you are stalking him, I don’t think he minds. He likes it.”

“Pffft,” I hiss. “He wishes I cared enough to stalk him.”

Wyatt chuckles.

“I’m right here, you know?” Lincoln stiffens and takes another swig of coffee. He glances at me sharply. “Can you check my office email while you’re here? I’m expecting a proposal.”

“Sure.” I pull out my phone and open the EA inbox.

I’m pretending to focus on the screen, but I notice he leans closer to Wyatt. “What the hell are you doing? I’m her boss. Are you crazy?”

I couldn’t say what Wyatt is, but Lincoln is definitely off his rocker if he thinks I can’t hear. If I suck at lying, he’s a terrible whisperer. His voice has that deep, resonating boom that could carry through a thunderstorm—or even the Fourth of July.

“I’m trying to help you, man. Lighten the fuck up,” Wyatt growls back.

“Oh, yeah? And how would you feel if I hinted to Miss Green Thumb that you’ve got a beating heart?” Lincoln says, flashing me a conspiratorial look.

“Burns, you leave her alone. I swear to fuck…” Wyatt finishes that thought with a vicious glare.

I try not to giggle.

It’s like watching two standoffish bears in a library trying to keep it down and failing comically.

Will they notice if I slide to the edge of the crate? This conversation isn’t for me, as funny as it is, and I don’t want to eavesdrop when I shouldn’t. I’m also well aware of how important it is to Lincoln when his friend has a good day.

It takes me all of one minute to see Lincoln doesn’t have any new important emails.

I slide the phone back into my purse, taking tiny sips of the coffee. It’s definitely too much for my taste. I try not to gag.

It’s bitter without cream, but the smoky undertone is interesting. I’ll have to tell Eliza.

I drink half of it one baby sip at a time and feel like that’s an accomplishment, considering it’s black and strong enough to wake up an elephant.

“…you’re just too chickenshit to admit the obvious. Ask her on a real date and stop worrying about your little rules and that great big redwood jammed up your ass,” Wyatt says as I look up.

I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing at that one.

Yeah, right.

Lincoln Burns might grind every gear I have, but he’s one of the richest, hottest, and most eligible men in the entire city. Heck, probably the whole country when you consider the billionaire dating pool.

He’s not going to date a girl like me who fights him at every turn and hails from flyover country. He’s also not the dating type, even if that’s something I seem to attract in men.

Even Jay Foyt needed a year to figure out he wanted me enough to ask me out. There’s no way I’m the kind of girl Burns dates. Never mind the whole he’s-my-flipping-boss factor and therefore off-limits.

“I’m her boss,” he snarls at Wyatt like he’s just read my mind. “Besides the ethics breach, there’s a thick fucking HR policy put in place by my mother, no less, against—”

“Dude, whatever,” Wyatt says slowly, flipping him the finger.

Yikes. That’s one way to put it.

He’d probably do a better job getting Wyatt off his back if he just admitted I’m so far out of his league I couldn’t buy tickets.

Wyatt looks at him again, an expression of brotherly annoyance on his weathered face.

“Man, an alligator-filled moat wrapped in barbed wire and guarded by pissed off HR hawks couldn’t keep me from a chance at the good life. This is a golden opportunity—a chance, at least—to have a life outside the office with a beautiful woman. I don’t get you, Linc.”

My pulse quickens as I wait for a response, but Lincoln just shrugs.

Torture.

Maybe if I remind them I’m here, I can shut down the awkwardness and avoid a brawl over my non-dating life with my boss.

“This is interesting coffee, Wyatt. My friend Eliza could learn from you.”

Lincoln looks up quickly and jerks away from Wyatt like they weren’t just discussing me. He won’t meet my eyes for a long second, but when he finally does, my heart stops.

Lincoln’s eyes are as pitch-black as the smoked coffee swirling in my cup and infinitely stronger.

His look is fraught. Questioning. Conflicted.

A stare that splits me in two and strips me naked.

I may bury myself in words until I’m crushed, but after Jay—because of Jay—I never believed in hot-eyed looks that could stop time.

Now, I wonder.

I wonder about a lot of things I should be chasing out of my head.

Ideally, before Lincoln damn Burns pulverizes what’s left of my heart.