Perfect Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

When he speaks to movers in the construction and engineering worlds, he talks like he cares about more than lavish parties and a devilish reputation. Who knew?

“I’ve never seen you this well behaved,” I whisper when we’re settling in for presentations.

“Don’t get used to it.” His delivery is ice-cold.

I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing.

He glances at the program we were handed when we came in the door. “Which seminar can you stand? Our choices are Doctor Boring on green architecture or Miss Monotonous on functional flow.”

“Again with the sexism.”

“How was that sexist?” He quirks an eyebrow in challenge.

“Boring gets to be doctor but Monotonous is miss. Isn’t it obvious?” I ask.

“Bah, your oversensitivity is showing.”

“Pointing out your rotten manners doesn’t make me oversensitive.”

“Fact check: Boring’s first name is Tiffany. Both sessions this morning are being presented by women.” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry, Miss Halle, but it appears you’re the one with preconceived notions here.”

“Me?” My fingers curl in sheer annoyance as I stab a finger at myself.

“You assumed Doctor Boring was a man based on the title.” He makes a tsking sound and wags a finger I’m too tempted to bite off. “Disappointing. We need to get you into one of those workplace improvement jams with Susan.”

I roll my eyes at him, but it’s kind of funny.

“Hello, trouble! Haven’t seen you in a while.” A guy in a brown suit strolls up to Nick and extends his hand.

Nick gives it a fierce shake. “How are you, Stanley?”

“I’ll be a lot better once this shitstorm of a project ends.” The man sighs.

Nick laughs. “What are you working on? It can’t be that bad.”

“The money’s good, but the client couldn’t be more demanding.”

“The bigger the payday, the badder the client,” Nick says smoothly.

While he’s distracted talking to this architect, I take the opportunity to fade into the background. The Brandt charm works wonders here, and I’m reminded it’s everything I lack.

I’m underdressed and underclassed at an event like this. And with engineers and architects speaking in technical jargon like it’s ancient Sumerian, I understand nothing.

Whatever. I’ll take notes for Brandt, but they’ll be verbatim.

I won’t be able to clarify things or decipher better phrases or flag what’s important. Why did he even want me for this gig?

His own amusement?

Ugh.

Even so, my eyes wander. From the back, he’s a chiseled god, hugged by a charcoal suit with pale-blue pinstripes that make him impossible to ignore. I can’t resist sending my sister a Snapchat photo with a message attached.

You’re welcome, Abby. FYI, your crush is pretty well behaved today.

A minute passes before my phone buzzes. I swipe the screen and see her text. Lucky lady! Here’s your FYI: if a man like Nick Brandt was buying me random crap and begging for forgiveness daily, we’d already be beyond forgiveness. How do you resist? Do you still have a pulse?

I snort and type back, He’s my boss and an asshat big enough for an elephant. Also, I’d like to keep my job.

Buzz-buzz. That’s the sound of my sister being as annoying as she was back when we were teenagers.

Dude. He owns the company, Reese. You’d probably get to keep your job and get promoted.

Reese: Not really. It’s split with his brother and his grandma’s the big boss. Since she founded it, I’m sure she owns the biggest slice.

Abby: Jeebus, who cares? Did you even see the picture you sent?

My lip curls. She’s so ridiculous sometimes.

With a sigh, I send a reply. Unfortunately, yes, and staring at Nick Brandt’s very touchable butt hurts my head. I should find something more productive to do at this stupid conference he’s dragged me to.

“You disappeared on me,” Nick says, materializing next to me.

Oh, crap!

Heat pumps under my cheeks as I practically punt the phone off the floor. Instead, I drop it, and then watch in horror as he picks it up.

This nightmare second passes where I think he’ll see the screen and see my conversation with Abby about his—

“Here, butterfingers,” he says, mashing it back in my hand.

Whew. For once, I’m grateful he’s kinda blind to what’s right in front of him.

Hoping my face doesn’t look like a ripe cherry, I shove the phone in my purse.

“Which breakout session are we going to? Did you decide?” he asks.

“Doctor Boring. We have to honor the PhD,” I say.

“Decent choice. I feel like a power nap.” He gives his arms this exaggerated stretch.

“So did you figure out your friend’s problem?” I ask.

Nick raises and drops one shoulder, his face tight. “Stanley’s more of an acquaintance. We’ve helped each other out from time to time. His clients want a fully glass new headquarters, but they’re in a rural area so it also needs to fit in with the surroundings.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I suggested he build into the green. Go around the natural elements to incorporate the two. Throw in a couple sunny break rooms or a courtyard if it suits the design.” He looks through me for a second, like it all comes that naturally to him.