Bond Girl by Erin Duffy Page A

Christmas present I could have hoped for. A desk of my very own. Good-bye, Girlie chair!
    â€œWow, Chick,” I said as I folded up my chair and leaned it against the wall, resisting the urge to throw it in the garbage can. “I never thought I’d be so happy to have computers. And drawers!”
    â€œIt’s the little things I do to keep my employees happy.”
    â€œWhat happened to Dave?”
    â€œDave’s dead. I shot him this morning,” he replied flatly.
    â€œ What? ” I asked, confused.
    â€œIt’s a metaphor, you nitwit. Dead. Shot. Axed. Eighty-sixed. No more. He’s gone, so now you get his desk. Use his notepads until you get your own. I’ll have Nancy order them tomorrow.”
    â€œUse his notepads?” I glanced at Dave’s empty chair—my chair. And at the pictures of his kids still proudly displayed next to his headset. Chick seemed completely unfazed by the fact that he had just fired someone during the holiday season. Not exactly a shining example of Christmas spirit.
    â€œCongrats, Alex. You’re my new desk buddy,” Drew said, as he swept Dave’s personal belongings into a box. “Do you have any particularly annoying habits I should know about before you take up residence three feet from me?”
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    â€œGood to know. Welcome to the middle row, where the average temperature is thirty degrees and local time is now ten forty-five.”
    â€œIt’s only ten forty-five?” Chick said. “You could freeze ice cream in here today, it’s so cold. I can’t have a team with frostbite.” He clapped his hands. “Everyone, Starbucks on me today, so give Alex your orders. Start with mine, Girlie-san. I want a venti hazelnut coffee, extra hot.”
    My new desk was immediately swarmed by team members shouting drink orders. The problem with specialty coffee places like Starbucks is that no one drinks plain coffee anymore. The odds of my getting all the orders for chai teas, mochas, lattes, and machiatos correct were low. Reese also mentioned that he wanted an M&M cookie to go with his cappuccino.
    Chick handed me a hundred-dollar bill. “Take someone with you so you don’t drop them and end up with third-degree burns.” At least he realized that I wouldn’t be able to balance dozens of hot beverages and a giant M&M cookie all by myself.
    I hesitated a second before approaching Will, but then decided, what the hell.
    â€œWhat’s up, rookie?” Will asked as he closed his Internet application. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit to the back row?”
    â€œChick told me to nominate someone to help me carry the coffees. Since you were nice enough to come with me for the pizza pickup, I was hoping you’d be willing to help me again.”
    â€œThat was supposed to be a onetime thing,” he said with a smirk that made me weak in the knees.
    â€œYou don’t have to. I can ask Drew if you’re too busy.”
    â€œI just want to be clear. You’re sort of asking me on a date. Is that correct?” He raised a dark eyebrow, relishing the ability to embarrass me.
    â€œA Starbucks date, yes,” I specified.
    â€œAm I destined to be the sucker that helps you carry food for the rest of my life?”
    â€œIt appears so, yeah. What do you say?”
    â€œSure, I’ll come with you. I need a mocha pronto, and I’m freezing to death up here.”
    â€œYou ordered a mocha?”
    â€œWith whip, yup.”
    â€œThat’s kind of a girlie coffee isn’t it?”
    â€œReal men like mochas with whip!”
    â€œIf you say so,” I sang, unwilling to resist the urge to flirt.
    â€œLet’s go, before I change my mind and you have to make ten trips by yourself, smartass.”
    When we arrived the line was out the door, as usual. “We’re going to be here for a while.” I sighed. “If