“Stella’s going to come to dinner with us next time,” she said.

“Charlie, what did I tell you about inviting people you just met to things?”

“Doesn’t she smell good?”

There was a pause, and I thought maybe they’d gone so far that I couldn’t hear them anymore. But then Hudson grumbled, “Yes, Stella smells good.”

“And she’s pretty, too, right?”

Again there was a long pause. I moved closer to my door so I could be sure to hear the answer.

“Yes, she’s pretty, but that’s not how you decide who to invite to dinner, Charlie. We work together.”

“But last month when Mommy dropped me off early at your house on Saturday morning there was a woman there, and she was pretty and smelled good. You’d said she was someone you had business with, and she’d come back in the morning because she’d forgotten her umbrella. I asked if she could come to lunch with us, and you said another time. But you never brought her.”

Oh boy. I put my hand over my mouth. That Charlie was a whip, and I was curious how Hudson was going to talk his way out of this one. Unfortunately, instead of hearing his answer, I heard the lobby door open and close, and that was the end of the show.

I sighed and walked back to my desk—where it quickly became apparent that I could no longer concentrate. Today had been a whirlwind. Being introduced to so many people here at Rothschild Investments, a half dozen different meetings, new systems for accounting, inventory, orders, and an all-new, high-speed website interface. It was pretty overwhelming. But none of it was half as exciting as three little words Hudson had said earlier today.

“To be continued…”

CHAPTER 11

Stella

I might’ve been a bit overeager the next morning.

Olivia had told me to meet her in the office at 8AM so we could start working with her team on the Signature Scent marketing plan. Yet the sun was barely up when I arrived at the offices of Rothschild Investments. Since I was so early, I went a few doors down to a twenty-four-hour deli and figured I’d get a cup of coffee and a muffin. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten a head start on today. The line was ten deep with suit-clad men and women, every one of them with their noses buried in their phones as they waited.

When I finally arrived at the register, a kid who looked like he should be getting ready for high school instead of working took my order.

“What can I get you?” As he spoke, he took out his phone and stared down at it. I thought perhaps he had to type my order in for someone else to make it in the back.

“I’ll have a coffee, light and sweet, and one of those crumb-cake muffins, please.”

He held up one finger and texted into his phone. When he was done, he punched something into the register. “One coffee, light and sweet, and one blueberry muffin. That’ll be six seventy-five. What’s your name?”

“Well, my name is Stella, but I wanted a crumb-cake muffin, not a blueberry muffin.”

The kid frowned as if I were annoying him. He hit some more buttons on the register, but then his phone buzzed, so his attention shifted there again. I took a ten out of my wallet and extended it to him, but he ignored my waiting hand. When a solid two minutes had passed and he still hadn’t looked up from his phone, I leaned in and peered over at what he was doing.

Texting.

The kid wasn’t putting my order in on his phone, he was texting someone named Kiara.

I flicked my wrist in an attempt to catch his eye. “Umm… Here you go.”

Again, he held up a finger.

Unbelievable.

Eventually, he plucked the bill out of my hand and gave me change. Then he picked up a tall coffee cup, opened a marker, and scribbled a name on it. Simone.

My brows drew together. “Is that supposed to be mine?”

He huffed. “It’s got your name on it, doesn’t it?”

Rather than argue, I smiled. “Sure. You have a wonderful day.”

“Next!”

I assumed that was his way of asking me to step aside so he could take the next customer.

A few people were milling around at the other end of the counter, so I went to join them and proceeded to do what everyone else was doing: look down at my cell phone. Fisher had texted a few minutes ago.

Fisher: Good luck working on the marketing today. I know that’s your favorite part!

I texted back.

Stella: Thank you! I’m nervous but excited.

He then sent me a picture of a man from the newest dating site he’d joined. The guy wore only a pair of tight, gray boxers. His smile was nice, and he had good hair. But when I panned down to the rest of him, my eyes bulged. Now I knew why he’d sent it to me. Another text arrived underneath.

Fisher: You told me to stop picking men by their abs and look for a genuine smile. That thing is definitely smiling. ;)

Stella: That can’t be real…

I lifted my phone closer and zoomed in on the bulge. No way was that all him. The guy had to have a banana stuffed in there somewhere. No, forget that, it was definitely a zucchini. Did penises even come in that size? Surely none that I’d ever seen.

A deep voice over my shoulder startled me.

“And to think I start my morning off by browsing The Wall Street Journal…”

I jumped, and my cell phone tumbled from my hands, hitting the floor. I bent to scoop it up and scowled. “Oh my God, why would you sneak up on me like that?”

Hudson chuckled. “How could I pass up interrupting when you’re watching porn?”

“I’m not watching porn.” I felt my face redden. “My friend sent me a picture of a guy from a dating site.”

He looked skeptical. “Uh-huh.”

Embarrassed, I tried to convince him it was the truth by holding up the phone to show him—only to realize I’d been zooming in on the guy’s dick. “No, really…”

Hudson held up his hand to block the view. “I’ll take your word for it. Thanks. But I’m glad to see you and your friend are both focusing on the important qualities in a man.”

I shook my head. Awesome. I kept making one good impression after another with this guy. I sighed in defeat.

“Simone!” the barista yelled.

I heard him, but it didn’t click at first.

“Simone!”

Shoot—that was me. I stepped up to the counter and retrieved my coffee and muffin. Hudson was shaking his head when I returned to where he stood.

“What?” I asked.

“A new alias?”

“The kid who took my order wasn’t listening when I said my name.”

Hudson gave a skeptical nod. “Right.”

“No, really.”

He shrugged. “What reason would I have to not believe you?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Hudson!” The barista yelled.

Hudson smirked. “He seems capable of getting my name right.” After he grabbed his coffee, he nodded toward the door. “You heading to the office?”

“Yeah.”

We walked out of the store and down the street side by side.

“Your daughter is absolutely adorable,” I said. “She cracked me up without even trying yesterday.”

Hudson shook his head. “Thank you. She’s six going on twenty-six and has no filter.”

“She sings beautifully, too.”

“Let me guess, Dolly while sitting on the toilet?”

I laughed. “‘Jolene’. I take it this is a frequent occurrence?”

“The toilet and the bathtub are her preferred performance venues.”

“Ah,” I said. “That’s probably because of the great clue sticks.”

Hudson smiled unguardedly. “Indeed.”

A homeless woman sat in front of the building next to ours. She had a shopping cart full of cans and bottles and was rolling change from a plastic cup into paper coin wrappers. At our building, Hudson opened the door for me.

“Can you…” I dug into my purse. “Hang on one second.”

I left Hudson holding the door open and walked back to the woman. Extending my hand with what I could offer, I said, “I’m sort of broke, too. But I want you to have this.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

When I returned to Hudson, his forehead was wrinkled. “Did you give her money?”

I shook my head. “I gave her my Hershey bar.”

He looked at me funny, but nodded before pushing the button for the elevator.

“So are you a big country-music fan?” I asked. “Is that where your daughter gets her love of Dolly?”

“Nope. And neither is my ex-wife or anyone else we know. She just heard one of Dolly’s songs on the radio in the car once and liked it. She started singing the parts she could remember at home and then took it upon herself to ask her singing teacher to teach her the full song. Now it’s the only artist she sings. She knows a dozen Dolly songs by heart.”

“That’s awesome.”

“Last year for Halloween, when all the other little girls wanted to be Disney princesses, Charlie wanted her mother to stuff socks in her shirt and buy her a platinum wig.”

“Wow, going platinum and stuffing. It’s like she’s thirteen already.”

Hudson groaned. “I don’t even want to think about that.”

We got into the elevator together to ride up to the offices. The minute the doors slid closed, a familiar smell invaded my nose. Instinctively, I leaned toward him to get a better whiff.