Her reply to his weak threat was to reach for her bag at her feet and rise. As she did, she slung the handles in a casual fashion over her shoulder as if she couldn’t care less for his opinion. He stared in disbelief that she would walk out and leave him sitting in this place like a jilted lover.

In his mind, he had already begun to dismiss her, thinking saves me from telling her to take a hike; get on her bike; start walking, sweetheart. With that kind of attitude he had correctly assumed at that point, this little thing they had would never have worked.

“I’m disappointed in you,” she said, standing behind her chair.

Was she waiting for an apology?

William held his hand across his heart, feigning surprise and hurt, although those at the time were about as far from his emotions as winter snow and spring sunshine.

He’d foolishly thought, what a godsend the hum had gone because he could now enjoy turning up the heat, that he’d have the last word. He’d imagined he deserved the last word, and even if he did, that was in a different world where normal rules applied.

He interlinked his hands behind his head and leaned back to stare up at the woman who’d surprised, angered and puzzled him, all in less than ten minutes. And how was he to know, when he addressed her next, though he spoke to her, he should have listened himself.

“You have just made the worst mistake of your life. You’re about to lose any chance you have at success in this business. Going, going—gone.”

She took several deep breaths but still kept that damn, stupid smile on her face as if she knew something he didn’t.

“The mistake I made was in thinking I could do it your way. That I needed any help at all. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody because I have something more powerful.”

“Oh yeah,” he replied, sarcasm wrapped in every syllable. “Is that your own self-belief? Good luck with that.”

“No,” she came right back to him. “I don’t need your luck. It’s already on my side.”

Without another word or off-beat smile, she turned and walked away through the maze of tables and patrons. His stare followed her to the exit; he watched with amusement as the door swung closed behind her.

His mind instantly ran through the sudden turn of events as he took a gulp of coffee which had cooled to an unpalatable temperature.

“Yuk,” he said, flicking his tongue between his lips to remove the taste of not just the drink but the remnants of their confrontation.

Who the hell did she imagine she was?

Bravo to him for keeping his cool. Nothing like removing ungrateful weeds before they seed and infect the whole damn lawn. Hmm, that was a good analogy. He told himself to jot that one down for use one day.

The waitress must have wanted their table and correctly assumed he was about to leave, for she swung past and delivered the bill. He couldn’t remember her face anymore, but he did recall thinking she probably possessed more writing talent in her order-taking hand than Orelia had in her whole body.