Brooklyn Blues by R.E. Hargrave

It was always a sign of a good day to come when she managed to wake on her own, before the alarm. Brooklyn had slept like a baby that night. Though stalkerish, after yesterday, her subconscious had assigned Baxter’s image to the faceless Dom from her dreams. So what? They were her dreams. Where else could she let loose? Sir—Kevin, she reminded herself—wanted her to face tonight head on. Why not start by accepting her fantasies? The man she’d lusted after for months had waved at her. At last. Damn straight he made an appearance in her dreams.

Popping up, she got ready for work with an extra spring in her step, her mind clearer than it had been in months. Feeling feisty, she decided to wait until that afternoon, after she was dressed for the party, to send Sir his official invitation to join her. Wasn’t he always telling her a little anticipation was a good thing?

Brooklyn splurged on her way in, stopping at the local coffee shop to get a white peppermint mocha with extra whipped cream, a favorite of hers during the Holidays. The price of the delay was her usual prime parking space, but when she got to ride the elevator alone—with no sign of Johnson or his leering—she decided the extra steps were worth it. Besides, she had that whipped cream to work off.

Her fairytale morning came to a screeching stop ten minutes after she arrived at her desk. Annette in the lobby buzzed her to come back down; she had a delivery waiting.

“Thanks, Annette. Oh, by any chance, does it have a blue ribbon?” Brooklyn guessed. When the receptionist confirmed her hunch, she sighed. “I’ll be right there.”

Today was about new approaches and a no fear attitude. The whole way down she told herself she couldn’t wait to see what her pervy elf had sent this time.

Brooklyn came to a halt halfway to the reception desk. There was a blue bow on it alright. The giant shimmery monstrosity encircled an edible bouquet of chocolate-dipped strawberries. A dozen of them. A blue gift bag tied with silver ribbons sat next to it, the top of what had to be a bottle of champagne poking from the top.

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