“Oh, honey. You had no way of knowing you’d get stuck working for such a heinous troll. Can you move within the company? Maybe there’s an opening for an analyst on another team,” Holly said, giving Bellamy’s back a gentle rub.
Man, she must be toeing the line of pretty pathetic to garner the sympathy-pat before breakfast. Bellamy sighed, peeking out from the thick tendrils of hair draped over her fingers. “Maybe, but you know what? That might just be a quick fix for a slow problem.”
Jenna drew her brows inward, leaning toward Bellamy from the other side of the counter. “What do you mean? When Bosszilla’s not hounding you—which, granted, is half the day, every day—you’re great at your job.”
Bellamy managed a tiny smile. “Thanks.”
“I’m not stroking your ego just for the hell of it. That’s the truth,” Jenna said, clearly having heard the doubt in Bellamy’s voice. “You graduated twelfth in your class at the most prestigious freaking business school in the country. Come on, admit it. You don’t exactly suck.”
“Just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean you love it, though,” Bellamy pointed out.
“I thought you did love it. Bosszilla aside,” Holly said.
“I guess the job just isn’t what I thought it would be. I definitely don’t love it, that’s for sure. To be brutally honest, I’m not even sure I like it anymore.”
Bellamy thought of all the hours she spent holed up in her office, meticulously researching contracts and negotiating deals for clients. Sure, she was good at it—she’d never have gotten as far up the ranks as she had if she’d been poorly suited for the work. But the overwhelming majority of those hours had been spent wishing she were somewhere else. Somehow, all of her hard work and accomplishments just didn’t seem to outweigh the negatives.
Holly’s eyes went wide. “Wait. Are you saying you want to quit?”
“Yes. I mean, no!” Bellamy shook her head, although whether to emphasize her “no” or to clear her thoughts, she couldn’t be certain. “I don’t love the work. That part is true. But I think I’m just burned out. I can’t quit, like, forever.” The thought was crazy. For God’s sake, she’d just taken her boards last year. Besides… “Anyway, I went to school for this. What else could I possibly do for a living?”
“What else would you want to do?”
Jenna’s question threw Bellamy off kilter, and it stopped her halfway between the counter and the cabinet over the mini-fridge, where she’d stashed the homemade muffins from the bakery at Joe’s.
“What do you mean, what do I want to do? I want to come up with a pain-free way to get my ass home tomorrow night so I can work on the stupid Anderson contract until daybreak and get Bosszilla off my back. Can I just ride with you guys?” She’d simply have to suck it up and have her car towed back to the city once Shane fixed it. Not ideal, but there were no other choices on the table.
“Not what do you want to do right now,” Jenna said. “I meant, if you could do something you really love for a living, what would you do? Would it be this?” she asked, point-blank.
Bellamy grabbed the bag of muffins and gave one to both Jenna and Holly before shrugging. “I don’t know. I guess I could go into marketing.” She took a bite of her muffin, savoring it. At least someone in Pine Mountain knew how to get the whole blueberries-to-batter ratio right.
“That’s the best you can come up with?” Jenna arched a brow, digging into her own muffin. “Marketing?”
“Hey!” Holly protested around a mouth full of cakey goodness. “I work in marketing, you know. And oh my God, these muffins are divine. But not as good as yours,” she amended, nodding at Bellamy.
“Exactly my point. You’re in marketing because you love it.” Jenna acknowledged Holly with a nod, then flicked her gaze back to where Bellamy had just parked herself on a bar stool at the counter. “But not everybody loves her job. Obviously.”
Bellamy shook her head. “You’re forgetting the fact that I spent years, not to mention a metric ton of money, going to school for this. I chose it. Plus, everyone expects me to have a business-oriented career.”
“Oh, please. Everyone who? Your parents? Sweetie, you’re twenty-seven. It’s time to cut the strings,” Jenna said.
“Not when the strings have owned and operated a very successful realty business together for over twenty years and paid for me to get a very expensive MBA. It’s no secret that they’re expecting me to join their company as soon as I get enough experience. Sure, they love me, but it would be kind of tough to swallow if I waltzed in and said I suddenly hated big business. Plus, what the hell would I do? Sitting around resting on my laurels isn’t going to pay the bills.”
Jenna cranked out a grin. “Your answer’s right in front of you, you know.”
Holly frowned and pulled back. “I don’t get it.”
“You just said it yourself, Hol. Who makes the best blueberry muffins you’ve ever had?” Jenna’s eyes lasered in on Bellamy, and her implication hit like a crate full of cannonballs.
“Oh, come on, Jenna. You can’t be serious. You think I should sell muffins for a living?”
“No, dumbass. But becoming a chef wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”
Bellamy’s laugh was completely involuntary. “Come on. Whipping up a batch of goodies for you guys here and there is one thing. Trying to make a living of it when you have no experience and no formal training whatsoever? It’s not even close! Culinary school takes years, and even then, I’d be starting a career path completely from scratch.”
That’s why they called it a dream job, right? Because clearly, Bellamy would be dreaming if she thought someone would pay her to cook for a living.
“You know what, B? Your being a chef isn’t a half-bad idea,” Holly said.
“It’s an insane idea,” Bellamy corrected. Pipe dreams were great, but it was time for her to get back to reality. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to figure out this mess before that yoga-pilates fusion class that’s supposed to leave me stress-free and give me a butt you can bounce a quarter off of.”
Jenna shook her head with a soft chuckle. “Okay. But I’m telling you. You should think about the chef thing.”
Right, Bellamy thought as she scrolled through her phone to access her email. Like anything more unlikely could happen than her blazing off on a new career path.
It made her impulsive evening making out under the stars with Mr. It’s-Not-You look rational in comparison.
Shane lay flat on his back, looking up into the belly of the Mach 1 and thinking he’d be a billionaire if he could come up with a cure-all for being a complete jackass.
Oh, that and he wouldn’t feel like shit over how his night with Bellamy had ended.
He replayed the whole thing in his mind for the hundredth time, picturing her green eyes glaring at him up on the Ridge. He hated that he’d been unable to meet that pretty yet pissed off stare before she walked away with nothing more than a clipped “goodnight” and her head held high. Man, how come doing the right thing felt so crappy?