Big Bad Boss Daddy (The Forbidden Fun)

“I wonder what my new boss is like?” I ask myself while playing music. But then my phone rings, and I press a button to get it onto speaker.

“Hi, this is Haley,” I chirp.

A woman’s voice comes onto the line.

“Hi Haley, it’s Meredith from People Assist. Have you left for your new assignment yet?”

“Yes, I’m on my way there now.”

“Good. We just want to make sure that everything works out because again, this is a very important client. When you get there, text me, okay? You’ll have fun.”

“Alright,” I pause for a second. “But can you tell me who I’m working for? After all, the cat’s almost out of the bag. I’m going to meet them myself in an hour or two.”

Meredith clucks.

“You’ll see when you arrive,” she says mysteriously, and I roll my eyes before hanging up. What’s with all the secrecy? It’s like this is a top-secret mission where only a select few people are in the “need to know” category. Plus, I really want to know who I’m working for because I’ll be living in her cabin for the next few months, reading drafts and making suggestions while she toils away on her next manuscript. To be honest, it’s going to be awesome. I can’t wait to shadow a famous author, learning her tips and tricks before applying them to my own creative processes. Heck, maybe I’ll have some free time and can do some writing of my own during the evenings. Who knows?

Smiling, I put my foot on the gas pedal in anticipation of this fortuitous turn of events. But little do I realize, the famous author wasn’t a she. She was a HE.

2

Bo

* * *

This is harder than I expected. I thought that I could cure my writer’s block by distancing myself away from people and society in general, but it hasn’t been enough. I needed to tap into a place that was unreachable right now, but unfortunately, everything is going fucking haywire.

“This character is an idiot,” I complained to myself, referring to the hero of my book. “Who the hell would believe he’s an international spy?”

I throw the manuscript down on my desk in disgust, papers flying everywhere. One floated through the air to settle on top of a nearby plant, its leaves coated in dust. Part of the issue is this disgusting cabin, I swear. This place is as dirty as hell, and it’s been a nightmare living here. I’m not a guy who cleans very well, and as a result, I called up People Assist to request a maid. She’s arriving today, and not a moment too soon.

With disgust, I stand and leave my office to head into the main room of the cabin. But the living room is also a pigsty with dirt on the floor, sofa cushions scattered about, and a thick layer of dust everywhere. Books were tossed on every available surface, and the remains of a microwave dinner from last week sat on the fireplace mantel.

“What a fucking disaster,” I said, shaking my head at the state of the room. There was no place to sit because it was literally too dirty. As a result, I stalked to the kitchen to pour myself a drink.

Looking contemplatively at the amber liquid, I think about the progress I’ve made. I’ve been living in Timberline for the past month with varying results with respect to my writing. Some days, I’d be on fire, and other times, it’s all fuzzy and unfocused. Initially, I thought I could handle the cooking and cleaning myself because I’m just one person. But obviously, I haven’t been able to do it, and thus, the utter state of chaos surrounding me.

The sound of an engine coughing interrupted my reverie, and I moved to the cabin window to take a look. Snow was coming down in drifts as a beat-up old clunker pulled into my drive. It’s astonishing that that thing even runs because the Civic looks like it’s been through a war where it was struck by heavy artillery.

But then the car door opened, and my heart stuttered before beginning to race. Who is this? The young woman who stepped out was utterly gorgeous with a generous ass and wide hips filling out her tight jeans. She had a thick winter jacket on with a beanie smashed on her head. Thick dark curls trail over her shoulders, and as she made her way around the vehicle to the trunk, I watched, entranced, as her hips swayed.

“Oh shit, is this my new maid?” I think aloud. “You’re going to be living with me, sweetheart? Holy fuck. How am I going to get any work done now?”

And that was my introduction to Haley McKnight. That is, before my life went to hell in a handbasket.

3

Haley

* * *

Wow, I didn’t expect it to be this cold in Timberline. I should have guessed though because the agency warned me to pack my warmest clothes, including a wool hat, knit scarf, and ski gloves. But still, the reality is shocking. Snowflakes are drifting down, sticking to my cheeks and lashes, and I open my mouth to catch a few. They land like icy jolts on my tongue and I wince a bit.