Boss of Me

He asked me about the incident on the boat, but I didn’t tell him anything. Yesterday morning, Jerry was in my office wanting to know what I did for the holiday weekend, which of course, I didn’t say. Only Renée knows what happened Sunday night—besides Patton and me.

It’s possible Patton noticed how close he kept getting to my backside. I almost couldn’t get any work done for keeping my rear end covered. I can’t say I’m not glad Jerry’s gone.

Inhaling the cool air, I realize I’ve walked all the way to the “I Believe in Nashville” mural. Patton wanted to know why I stayed in Nashville. I suppose I could have gone to Chicago. I like Chicago better than New York or LA or Atlanta… But being close to Renée was so important to me, and my advisers said this firm would be a great place to get started.

As long as I don’t fall in love with my boss.

Seriously, Rocky?

Okay, I’m not in love with him, but I can’t deny Sunday was pretty monumental. I’ve never felt that way… I want to feel that way. He treated me like I want to be treated, and I really wish I could follow up on what happened, what could still happen. I feel it every time we’re together.

Exhaling a deep sigh, I stop at a food truck and get a small order of fried okra. My mamma used to make fried okra every Sunday. It was her favorite dish, but fried was the only way I’d eat it. Okra is a hairy, slimy green vegetable shaped like a small penis. But you chop it into cubes and deep-fry it, and you’ve got a delicious snack.

Taking out my phone, I check for any word from Sandra. I don’t see any. I stroll through the park, under the huge oak trees, past the concrete walls covered in fuzzy green lichens. Fresh, earthy dampness is in the air. It’s not like the beach, but it?

??s still comforting in the middle of this city.

The sun is starting to set when I return to the office. I need to get my things and head home. Worry has my stomach so tight, I didn’t even finish my snack. I really do care about Patton more than I should. But how do I make these feelings stop?

That’s something they don’t teach you in business school.

Sandra and Dean are gone when I arrive back at the office. I punch in the security code and go inside, thinking I’ll gather my things and head back out. Taron’s office is still dark, but I see the light shining from under Patton’s door.

I hesitate outside it, leaning so close my cheek almost touches the wood to see if he’s in there.

I don’t hear anything.

Glancing toward my office, I see my light is off, and it appears I’ve gone for the day as well. I rub my hand over my tight stomach wondering if I should knock or go away. Something in me pushes me forward. Stretching out my hand, I tap softly.

The door opens on its own—I didn’t even notice it wasn’t closed all the way. Only his desk lamp is on, and across the room I see him. His back is to me, and his hands are spread, palms flat against the back table. His head is hanging forward.

My heart aches at the sight of him. I can’t see his face. I can’t hear anything, but it’s a totally defeated stance. I’ve never seen Patton Fletcher this way, like he’s at the mercy of some invisible force.

He doesn’t move, and I know he doesn’t know I’m here. I don’t want to startle him, but I can’t stay away. My feet move of their own accord, and I close the space between us. When I’m close enough, I reach out my hand and gently place it on his back.

His long, lean body stiffens, and he lifts his head. “What is it?”

“It’s just me.” My voice is quiet. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He clears the thickness from his voice, but when our eyes meet, I see he’s far from fine. His dark eyes look so tired.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

His smile is grim, and he glances down at the papers in his hands. It looks like a letter, and I see a business envelope on the table in front of him with his name handwritten on it. He folds them and puts them in the envelope.

“You must think our office is poorly run.”

“Not at all. I’m impressed by how much you’re able to do with such a small staff.”

“My dad liked to keep it small. He liked to run things tight, like a military team. Strategic. I thought I could do better than him because I actually was on a strategic military team.”

His eyes move past me, out the window, and I study the strong lines of his face, his square jaw and perfect nose. He’s not smiling, but he’s not frowning. I want to wrap my arms around him, but I’m afraid that would be going too far.

Instead, I place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you close with your dad?”

Dark eyes flicker to mine. “Not really. He expected me to run the business just like he did.”

“How was that?”