Timberline

by Skye McNeil

  Clicking open a new email, Jessie nodded. “My refusal? Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  She heard Bridget giggle before disappearing through the door. Her assistant was always giggling about something so Jessie paid her no mind. Digging into work was the best cure. And a slice of pizza or two.

  »»•««

  Four hours later, Jessie stretched her arms above her head and cracked her neck. She accomplished more work this afternoon than in two days combined. After shutting down her computer, she glanced at her calendar for the rest of the week. “Office work for the most part. Super,” she mumbled, flicking the light off.

  Seeing the majority of the cubicles empty, she tugged her purse on her shoulder. A typical day included being the first one in the office and the last one to leave. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Catching up with Bridget at the elevator, she pressed the button again for good measure. “Hey, thanks for finishing those reject emails for me. I can only do so many of them before I get annoyed and start cursing.”

  Bridget tapped her foot at the slow elevator. “No problem. I should just set them up for automatic replies the way you reject people.”

  Sliding her phone into her purse, Jessie knew she wasn’t referring to the potential authors with Brecon alone. She was known for her immediate rejection of men, too. The one man brave enough to ask her out on a date from the Brecon pool was turned down faster than the time a coffee shop tried to pass off coffee as tea. She detested coffee. “Not everyone is worth my time,” she responded at long last when the elevator arrived.

  The two stepped into the already brimming elevator when Bridget added, “Maybe one of them will be if you give them a chance.”

  Jessie clamped her mouth shut. There was no way she was going to discuss her love life in an elevator full of co-workers. “I believe the right author will blow me out of the water if they are meant to be accepted.”

  Bridget snorted and flicked her long hair over her shoulder. “The way you’re going, it’s going to take a typhoon before you accept an author.” She offered the man beside her a sweet smile. “You never know when a writer will sneak under your skin and surprise you.”

  It was Jessie’s turn to snort. Bridget was a flirt and lifelong romantic who was unattached at the present. The blonde filtered through more men than Jessie could in a lifetime. “I think I’ll stick with my method. It works like a charm.”

  The elevator announced its arrival on the ground level and the passengers filed off in silence. It didn’t surprise Jessie in the least to see Bridget hooked onto the arm of one of the men from the elevator. If anyone could find love in an odd place, it was her.

  Walking the short distance to the front doors, Jessie retrieved her designer sunglasses from her purse and slipped them on before stepping into the heat. July in New York City wasn’t her favorite, but it beat the winter months. She preferred the crisp colors of fall, watching the trees change hues and hearing the satisfying crunch beneath her feet, to sweltering heat.

  The city sounds filtered through her mind as she decided her next move. The gym was where she should go, but she didn’t feel like sweating more than she already was. Remembering the pile of manila envelopes on her desk at home, she veered left instead of hailing a cab.

  Opting for caffeine to keep her awake, Jessie trekked the two blocks to her favorite coffeehouse. It was the one spot she could rely on. The first place to catch her eye during her initial visit to New York City, Perkatory was decorated inside and out with lustrous appeal. The familiar jingle of the overhead bell made her feel at home straight away. She was here more than she was at her apartment on most days. It was an ideal place to meet clients or finish last minute work. Most importantly, it didn’t include the cheerful Bridget to distract her.

  Waving at the barista as she walked up to the counter, she reviewed the menu written in chalk even though she never strayed from her usual. “Hey, Nadine. How’re things going?”

  The twenty-something with bright green hair offered her a cheeky smile. “Busy as can be, but I’m not complaining. Want your usual?”

  “How’d you know?” Jessie teased, pulling out her wallet.

  “I have this uncanny way of reading people,” Nadine teased back. She nodded her head to the right. “I’m training a new guy, so it may be a minute or two. I’ll throw in a chocolate chip cookie for the inconvenience.”

  Jessie stuffed a five-dollar bill into the tip jar after swiping her credit card. “No problem.” Nadine hustled away from her, calling out the order for the trainee to hear. Perusing the few patrons in the shop, Jessie smirked as she moved out of the line. The shop held more of a Midwestern charm compared to the other New York coffee shops littering the streets. It was the main reason she came back every day. It reminded her of home in the best possible way.

  Moving to the pickup counter, she fished out her phone and pulled up her social media account. She limited herself to one account, and only because her sister insisted upon it. The last time she’d checked the thing must have been six months ago. Scrolling down the screen with her thumb, she spotted several unopened messages from Bobbi. “She knows I don’t check this,” she mumbled in frustration. Tapping on the one dated the oldest, she skimmed the message. Since leaving Chicago, she’d failed to return to Colorado for any family event.

  The few people she spoke to back home were her parents. Oh, and Grandma when she answered the home line before her parents could reach it. Thanks to a mishap at the Verizon store when she got a new phone, she didn’t have Bobbi’s phone number anymore. Blood may be thicker than water, but its betrayal also hurt the most.

  With each message read, Jessie felt her stomach knot tighter. Her sister was apologetic in each one, but then tried to explain how it all happened. How much she and Tommy loved each other. How horrible they felt for betraying her. How they wanted her to come to their wedding. “Blah, blah, blah,” she mumbled in a sardonic tune.

  The phone slipped from Jessie’s shaking fingers after she finished reading the most recent one. It was a joint message from Bobbi and Tommy with an engagement photo attached. They looked happy and disgustingly in love. The smiling faces stared back at her and she couldn’t help but see a resemblance of the pose between two aspen trees to one she and Tommy took for their short engagement. “Shit!” Pissed was putting it nicely. The one color she saw was red. Red everywhere. Bending down, she retrieved the phone to see the screen shattered at her blunder. “And that’s how my luck is going,” she uttered with a frown.

  “The store down the street can fix those for pretty cheap,” a masculine voice said.

  Whipping around, Jessie found herself face to face with a broad chest. Unfamiliar territory for her current six-foot-three-inch-with-heels frame. Tilting her head up, she met two bright green eyes attached to a smiling face. “Um, thanks. I’ll check it out.”

  The tall man sporting an orange apron held out a cup. “I believe this is your Earl Grey tea with a splash of cream and lemon. A Gray Day, right?”

  Eyeing the cup with vigilance, she plucked it from the barista’s large hands. Her eyes drifted up his hand to the tattoos barely visible under his pushed-up sleeves. Tattoos instantly made him more attractive. His brown hair was kept tight to his head and his left cheek held a hint of a dimple. She couldn’t ignore his lightly tanned skin which made his sea green eyes mandate attention. Standing a good three inches taller than her, the barista in training captured her curiosity.

  “Thanks,” she replied, suddenly shy. Taking a sip, Jessie did her best not to grimace. It was much too sweet for her liking and tasted burnt. “It’s, uh, great,” she said when she saw he was waiting for her review. What the hell? Why didn’t she rail at him for the horrific attempt at her drink? Her eyes swiveled up. The dimple. No doubt, it must be the reason. What woman could yell at a dimple-yielding man? Not her, it would seem.

  The barista let out a deep chuckle, sending shiver
s down her spine. She never imagined laughing could be sexy, but this guy changed her perception fast. “You hate it, don’t you?”

  Jessie opened the lid and stared at the sad attempt. “It could be better,” she corrected slowly.

  He reached for the cup. “Here, let me fix you a new one.”

  Catching the time illuminating over his shoulder and not wanting to chance a repeat, she shook her head. “Thanks, but I need to head out.” She took another sip, swallowed hard, and then threw the remaining disaster in the trash. “I’ll let you try again tomorrow. Maybe Nadine can give you some tips.”

  The good-looking barista tossed her a wry grin, but nodded. “Nadine says you’re her best worst customer.”

  This captured Jessie’s attention. “Oh, really? And why is that?” She retraced her steps to where he stood.

  “She said you get disgruntled if your drink isn’t perfection.” He studied her without shame, making her cheeks tingle with embarrassment. “You don’t look so scary.”

  Jessie edged closer and lowered her voice. “Don’t let Nadine know.” His laughter filled the cozy coffeehouse. “First time, shame on you. Second time, shame on me.” She gave him a serious stare. “I don’t give third chances, so you better have it perfect for tomorrow.”

  He nodded his head in a cautious nature as if trying to decipher her. Jessie held in a laugh at his puzzled face. “See you tomorrow,” she said over her shoulder and didn’t wait for him to answer before making her exit.

  Once outside, Jessie let herself smile. Even if the barista kept screwing up her order, she would come back. If for nothing else but to hear the throaty chuckle from Perkatory’s newest, and beyond a doubt the most attractive, barista.

  »»•««

  Running late the next morning, Jessie dashed into her office before her conference call began. With a chocolate croissant between her teeth and a mug of tea from home, she dialed into the periodic seminar for editors. It was a time filler if nothing else, but it was mandated by her superiors. Muting her line, she half-listened as she read through the emails that had built up overnight. Nothing pertinent stood out until she spotted one from Bobbi. Her sister didn’t email her. Ever.

  After reading the message, Jessie felt her blood boil. Slipping off her heels and stalking to the door, she wrenched it open. “Bridget, get in here!” she boomed like a crazed woman. Her assistant had gone too far this time. Ignoring the curious stares from the hive outside her doors, Jessie retreated into the office.

  “Hey, boss lady, what’s up?” the vision in pink asked with a kind smile when she closed the door behind her.

  Jessie scowled at her. “You RSVP’d for Bobbi’s wedding for me, right?” Bridget nodded with enthusiasm. “And you said I would be attending?” The smile dripped off the blonde’s face. “And I would bring a date?” She choked out the acidic words tasting of vinegar.

  Bridget caught her thumb to her teeth. “Well, yes, but—”

  Jessie’s dark stare silenced her. “I told you I wasn’t going. And if I was going, I would not take a date.” She pointed to her computer. “Bobbi emailed me. She’s excited to see me and my mystery man.” She paused and tried not to lose her cool. “The day after tomorrow.”

  “Oh, I didn’t think—” Bridget admitted.

  “No, you didn’t think,” interrupted Jessie, now sweating through her lightweight shirt. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? I can’t back out. By now, she’s told my entire family and they’re expecting me to show up with a date.” She closed her eyes and her jaw tightened. “I’m so screwed.”

  “Then you’re going?” her chipper voice guessed, breaking the static.

  Jessie listened to the chatter from the conference call in the background. She didn’t have a choice. Her nosy assistant sent the RSVP and Bobbi saw it. “It appears, I am. But where am I going to find a date by Friday?” She sighed, opening her eyes at last. Bridget looked quite pleased with herself, which irritated Jessie even more. “I don’t know a single man who would go along with the charade I need.”

  “I met a nice guy from accounting,” Bridget proposed but was shot down in haste.

  “No. No one from Brecon. I don’t want my personal life involved here at all.”

  “Well, you’re boring,” muttered Bridget.

  Slouching in her seat, Jessie groaned. “The one way I’ll get a date to this thing is if I run into a random guy and knock him senseless.”

  “Or if one falls from the sky.” Jessie’s mouth flattened into a frown at Bridget’s addition. “It was a joke,” Bridget told her. “Sort of.”

  Jessie had two days to work a miracle. If worse came to worse, she could take Bridget and pretend to be bisexual for the week. Her brain hurt from all this thinking. She needed to calm down if she was to conjure up a plan.

  Pointing to Bridget, she said, “You are responsible for finding someone for me since you thought it was a grand idea.” Jessie nodded to the door. “I expect a gold medal sporting man and a pick-me-up by three, otherwise I don’t want to see you again until I figure out a way to teleport.”

  Bridget scrambled to her feet and offered a mock salute. “I’m on the case. You can count on me.”

  Jessie dropped her head to her chin and waited until Bridget left the office to mutter a string of profanities. Massaging her temples, she did her best to focus on the phone conference. If anyone could find a man willing to pretend to be her boyfriend, it was Bridget.

  »»•««

  “What do you mean you didn’t find anyone?” Jessie’s voice went up an octave, counteracting her glower.

  Bridget held out the specialty tea. “I’m sorry. I guess it was too short of notice and none of my guy friends would agree to it.” She bit her lip. “They’ve either met you or heard about you through me, which didn’t help matters.”

  Jessie snatched the tea and brought the cup to her lips. It smelled all right. Maybe the new barista got it right this time? Taking a timid sip, she sputtered at the creamy concoction. “I see he’s still screwing it up.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” Jessie grabbed her purse. She had to meet a writer in search of a new publisher in an hour. There was no time to get a new drink or a date for the wedding. “So, what am I going to do?”

  Bridget’s face twisted. “Maybe I can find someone tonight. Your plane doesn’t leave until tomorrow afternoon.”

  Gathering a notebook and a fresh pen, Jessie stuffed them into her oversized Louis Vuitton handbag. It was her first purchase in New York and her favorite one as well. “Do what you can.” She brushed through the door but then swung around. “Keep me posted. I may have to feign strep throat or something.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Bridget followed her to the elevator. “Who’s the author you’re meeting?”

  “I’m not sure.” She checked her phone for the name again. “A.J. Whit is the name. She’s at the top of the Best Seller’s list on a consistent basis.” Jessie perused the rundown of information she’d gotten from the Miller brothers at their impromptu meeting. “A crossover of adventure and romance. I didn’t read any of the material, but the brothers did and they like what they read.”

  “Oh, I read you some of A.J.’s book one time,” Bridget briefed with a grin. “You liked it.”

  She looked over at Bridget. “I doubt it. Anyway, Brecon is pushing to sway A.J. over to our side since her current contract is up.”

  “Since when do you offer contracts?” Bridget quizzed with a lifted brow.

  The elevator arrived and Jessie stepped on. “Since Brecon offered me double my commission to secure this author.”

  Bridget’s mouth formed a wide oval. “Wow!”

  “Yeah, now don’t forget to find me.” Jessie paused and lowered her voice to add, “a kick ass date.” She pointed a stern index finger as the elevator door shut.

  Thankful to be alone with her thoughts, she didn’t mind the extra stops for passengers as the elevator coasted to the first floor. By
her watch, she had plenty of time to make it to the little French café before A.J. Whit made an appearance.

  After flagging down a cab, a woman in yellow heels stepped in front of Jessie and stole the ride. “What the hell?” she yelled, her hands gesturing in the air. The redhead now locked in the cozy cab feigned surprise at the obvious plight she’d caused, so Jessie flipped her middle finger up as the cab drove off.

  From the looks of the hustle filling the streets, she wasn’t going to catch another cab and make it on time. Swiveling on her purple heels, she headed toward the subway as fast as her feet could take her. Heels were her favorite accessory except when her day required an abundance of walking. She hadn’t thought today would be such a day, but she set off, despite the pinching at her toes.

  Weaving between the slow-walking pedestrians like a good New Yorker, Jessie’s long legs made decent time. At one time she’d hated her height, but now it made sense. Her standards in men extended beyond anything reasonable, which intensified by including a height requirement.

  Swiping her card at the subway gate, she moved toward her platform and saw a crowd waiting on the next train. From within her purse, her phone chirped, and she took her eyes off her direction as she searched for it.

  At the moment she grasped the iPhone, her body slammed to a halt. Warm tea splattered down her white shirt and black pants. “Oh my gosh!” she yipped, startled at the abrupt stop.

  Arms steadied her and she cursed. “Sorry about that. I guess I wasn’t looking where I was going,” a man’s mournful voice said.

  Jessie swung her eyes up in alarm. The voice wasn’t one she could forget. Ignoring the tea dripping down her pant leg, she stammered, “You’re the barista from Perkatory.”

  “Uh, yeah, I guess I am.” He picked up the now empty cup. “I take it you didn’t like this one either?” he asked, chucking it into a trash bin.

  Jessie kept her eyes on her ruined Gucci shirt. It was stained with Earl Grey tea. Crappy Earl Grey tea concocted by the same guy who bumped into her and caused the spill. “Damnit, this is never going to come out!” Brecon would never allow her to arrive at a meeting looking like she did at the moment. She was supposed to convince a prestigious author to join the publishing house. Tea stains would not drive any ship to berth.