Year of Living Blonde (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 1) by Andrea Simonne Page B
Authors: Andrea Simonne
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nodding for a moment and then chuckles. “Sure, that’s no problem. Seven is fine. Okay, I’ll see you tonight.”
Graham meets Natalie’s gaze and smiles. Neither of them says anything. Natalie somehow refrains from rolling her eyes.
Nicole? Justine? Serena? How does he keep track of them all? Professor or not, he’s obviously exactly what she thought.
When Blair comes back, she hands Anthony the blue three-ring binder she keeps track of all her wedding cake orders with. When he opens it, she shows him the waiting list.
Anthony makes a note on his computer and then turns to both of them. “I thought I’d accounted for every variable, but you two pointed out something I hadn’t considered. I’m going to enter this in and we’ll see where we’re at.” He looks at Blair. “Would you mind adding the approximate price of each wedding cake on that list?”
Blair takes a seat across from Graham. “I can do that.”
“And Natalie, would you start keeping track of any jobs you have to refuse as well? I’ll need those numbers.”
Natalie leans back in her chair and lets out a heavy sigh. “I suppose I could do that.”
Anthony starts shutting down his computer. “Is there a problem?”
“The problem is I don’t like it. The software, the pie charts—any of it.”
He stiffens. “This is how I conduct my business.”
“You come in here all the time, so you’ve seen with your own eyes how busy we are. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“No, it doesn’t. I need hard numbers, not speculation.”
She thinks about how as a single parent now she’ll need more money to keep her house. “You’re just wasting our time. We’ve already told you we’re bursting at the seams and we turn away business every day. Who cares what the exact numbers are? We make more than enough in profits to pay for the lease on the space next door.”
“I care.” Anthony speaks in a cold voice. “You can think whatever you like. The fact remains that I own this building, so I’ll be the one to decide whether I lease that space to you.”
Natalie’s eyes lock on to Anthony’s. He’s still wearing the nerd glasses and it gives him an owlish appearance. His eyes are intelligent and she can see she’s made him angry.
“Come on, Natalie,” Blair says. “I think we should at least give his method a try. And besides, it’s not like we have a choice.”
“I’d listen to her if I were you,” Anthony says.
Natalie throws her hands in the air. “But this whole thing is ridiculous!”
“You want to hear ridiculous?” Anthony shoves his laptop back into his satchel. “I’ll tell you ridiculous. You own a bakery called La Dolce Vita and you don’t sell a single Italian pastry!”
When he pronounces La Dolce Vita he slides the words together, rounding the syllables in a way that makes her suspect he speaks fluent Italian.
“Then why do you bother to come here at all?” Natalie counters. “Especially if you dislike it so much! It can’t be just because you own the building.”
Anthony stops what he’s doing and pushes his glasses on top of his head. He glances out the front window and then back to her. “Your espresso is excellent, I’ll give you that.”
Natalie can’t help her nod of approval. She’s very picky about coffee herself. “It’s Lavazza. I have to special order it.”
“I know, I recognize it.” Which surprises Natalie. “And as I mentioned, those cookies of yours aren’t half bad, either.”
His compliment is a peace offering and she knows it. But she doesn’t want a peace offering. She doesn’t want his charm or humor. All she wants is his signature on a piece of paper that says they can expand, but he won’t give it to her.
Anthony stands up and slips his satchel over his head, so the bag settles against his left hip. A lock of dark wavy hair has fallen across his forehead and Natalie tries not to notice he’s the hottest college professor she’s ever seen in her
Graham meets Natalie’s gaze and smiles. Neither of them says anything. Natalie somehow refrains from rolling her eyes.
Nicole? Justine? Serena? How does he keep track of them all? Professor or not, he’s obviously exactly what she thought.
When Blair comes back, she hands Anthony the blue three-ring binder she keeps track of all her wedding cake orders with. When he opens it, she shows him the waiting list.
Anthony makes a note on his computer and then turns to both of them. “I thought I’d accounted for every variable, but you two pointed out something I hadn’t considered. I’m going to enter this in and we’ll see where we’re at.” He looks at Blair. “Would you mind adding the approximate price of each wedding cake on that list?”
Blair takes a seat across from Graham. “I can do that.”
“And Natalie, would you start keeping track of any jobs you have to refuse as well? I’ll need those numbers.”
Natalie leans back in her chair and lets out a heavy sigh. “I suppose I could do that.”
Anthony starts shutting down his computer. “Is there a problem?”
“The problem is I don’t like it. The software, the pie charts—any of it.”
He stiffens. “This is how I conduct my business.”
“You come in here all the time, so you’ve seen with your own eyes how busy we are. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“No, it doesn’t. I need hard numbers, not speculation.”
She thinks about how as a single parent now she’ll need more money to keep her house. “You’re just wasting our time. We’ve already told you we’re bursting at the seams and we turn away business every day. Who cares what the exact numbers are? We make more than enough in profits to pay for the lease on the space next door.”
“I care.” Anthony speaks in a cold voice. “You can think whatever you like. The fact remains that I own this building, so I’ll be the one to decide whether I lease that space to you.”
Natalie’s eyes lock on to Anthony’s. He’s still wearing the nerd glasses and it gives him an owlish appearance. His eyes are intelligent and she can see she’s made him angry.
“Come on, Natalie,” Blair says. “I think we should at least give his method a try. And besides, it’s not like we have a choice.”
“I’d listen to her if I were you,” Anthony says.
Natalie throws her hands in the air. “But this whole thing is ridiculous!”
“You want to hear ridiculous?” Anthony shoves his laptop back into his satchel. “I’ll tell you ridiculous. You own a bakery called La Dolce Vita and you don’t sell a single Italian pastry!”
When he pronounces La Dolce Vita he slides the words together, rounding the syllables in a way that makes her suspect he speaks fluent Italian.
“Then why do you bother to come here at all?” Natalie counters. “Especially if you dislike it so much! It can’t be just because you own the building.”
Anthony stops what he’s doing and pushes his glasses on top of his head. He glances out the front window and then back to her. “Your espresso is excellent, I’ll give you that.”
Natalie can’t help her nod of approval. She’s very picky about coffee herself. “It’s Lavazza. I have to special order it.”
“I know, I recognize it.” Which surprises Natalie. “And as I mentioned, those cookies of yours aren’t half bad, either.”
His compliment is a peace offering and she knows it. But she doesn’t want a peace offering. She doesn’t want his charm or humor. All she wants is his signature on a piece of paper that says they can expand, but he won’t give it to her.
Anthony stands up and slips his satchel over his head, so the bag settles against his left hip. A lock of dark wavy hair has fallen across his forehead and Natalie tries not to notice he’s the hottest college professor she’s ever seen in her
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