Ready to Wed by Cindi Madsen Page B

going to cover it better than anyone else out there. And for some reason, people in the city are actually interested in you because of it. I’ve gotten emails wanting to know more, and you’re a public figure. Deal with it.”
    “Listen to me, you wannabe attention whore—”
    “Let’s calm down here,” George from Classifieds said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “There’s no need for violence.”
    “Maybe not need, but want…?” I narrowed my eyes on Phoebe. “No, it’s actually need.”
    “Keep talking.” Phoebe waved her phone at me. “I’ve got it all recorded.”
    I lurched for the phone, and I would’ve had it, too, but George held me back. Irritation burned through me at how out-of-control this situation was getting. Now I was the bad guy? Fine. She could have her recording of me saying I was going to punch her. As much as I wanted to follow through on the threat, lucky for her, I’d learned to deal with things differently since second grade. I’d just steer clear of her, and then go over her head to Tess.
    Speaking of my boss at the paper, Tess had come out of her office and was looking from Phoebe to me, and then at the guy holding me back like I was some kind of rabid dog.
    “She threatened me,” Phoebe said. “I’m putting it in my column. Wedding planner has meltdown after her failed nuptials.”
    I glared and stepped forward, quickly enough that George couldn’t catch me. Phoebe shrieked and threw her hands up, which was almost as satisfying as taking a swing at her. “One last warning. Leave me out of your column.”
    “Dakota! In my office. Now.” Tess was usually so soft-spoken that her I-mean-business voice stopped me cold.
    “I want to file a complaint,” Phoebe called as I turned my back to her. “If she were anyone else, security would’ve been called by now.”
    Since I’d already acted with the maturity of a little kid, I held back the urge to stick my tongue out at her as I stormed into Tess’s office.
    “How could you let her print a story about my failed wedding in her column?” I asked.
    Tess rounded her desk and sat in her chair. “Was what she wrote false?”
    A sharp twinge went through my chest. “Not exactly. But it’s my private life.”
    “And how are you doing with that?” Tess looked at me with the poor-you expression I’d gotten a lot since my I dos turned into I don’t even bother to show up .
    “I’m fine.”
    “You’re threatening a coworker.”
    “It’s Phoebe. Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted to take a swing at her before.”
    Tess steepled her hands on her desk and sighed. “Your articles are good, Dakota, and people like them. But I can’t give you preferential treatment simply because you did my wedding. I consider you a friend, but I can’t have you threatening my reporters.”
    I hung my head like Cupid did when he got scolded for chewing up the furniture. “I understand.”
    “So now you’ve got two options. You resign, or you take an anger management course.”
    “Anger management? Are you kidding me?” I yelled, then managed to restrain the anger, which was slightly ironic considering. And proof that I could contain my temper, if you asked me.
    Tess glared down her nose at me, which I took to mean a big hell no to the kidding.
    My column wasn’t a huge moneymaker, but I enjoyed it, and after draining my bank account for the event everyone wanted to remind me didn’t happen, plus those clients I’d already lost, I needed all the extra cash I could get.
    “You know how Phoebe is; she’ll complain till someone listens, whether it’s the police or her readers. This way I can say it’s being taken care of.”
    Well, this day sure had gone up in flames quickly. I wondered whether, if I’d moved looking at apartments to my top spot instead of placing it third, I would’ve missed Phoebe. Or at least had enough coffee in my system to better deal with her egging me on like that. But since there was no use crying