Damaged Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

It’s simple and unoffensive.

So why am I freaked about hitting Send?

Snorting and shaking my head, I tap the button and let the email fly, then stuff another bite of ice cream into my mouth.

It almost chokes me, going down the wrong pipe, as my phone chimes near-immediately, less than thirty seconds later.

There’s no way.

No way he replied that fast.

Eyeing my phone, I tap the email notification, curling my toes until they’re bunched in my bedsheets.

To: Caroline Landry

From: Roland Osprey

Subject: Re: About this afternoon.

Stop worrying.

If you’d like, I can put you in touch with the company’s compliance and benefits program. Your father is covered under your crisis insurance, and that extends to several highly recommended substance abuse programs. Just let me know and I’ll forward the details.

Happy to help,

Roland

I stare at the phone, my eyes prickling, my throat tight.

Why, God, why?

Why is he being so flipping kind to me?

To: Roland Osprey

From: Caroline Landry

Subject: Re: Re: About this afternoon.

I’d like that. I never even thought it was part of my benefits. You don’t skimp on the perks around here, and I appreciate it. Thanks.

Callie

And just like that, rapid-fire back.

We’d might as well be texting. But it’s making me feel so strange, like his attention is totally riveted to me. I can’t walk away from this, from the hints of quiet, rumbling laughter I hear in every written word.

To: Caroline Landry

From: Roland Osprey

Subject: Re: Re: Re: About this afternoon.

Considering I’m well aware that I drive some employees to aneurysms, I do make sure their health is taken care of, above and beyond any standard family plan.

Besides. I understand more than you might think.

Also, for the last time, don’t worry about boundaries. We won’t mention Austin ever again.

Roland

I sputter around another spoonful of ice cream and type back furiously.

To: Roland Osprey

From: Caroline Landry

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: About this afternoon.

If we’re not talking about Austin, then don’t talk about Austin!

Callie

I wait, breathless, as my phone pings again.

To: Caroline Landry

From: Roland Osprey

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: About this afternoon.

What? Did something happen in Austin?

Roland

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

I’ve forgotten the ice cream, the cold container propped against my belly so I can rapid-type with both hands.

To: Roland Osprey

From: Caroline Landry

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: About this afternoon.

I’m going to kill you. In theory, of course.

Callie

I hit Send and nearly drop my phone when he replies, so many Re:s on the subject line that it’s practically pushing off the screen.

To: Caroline Landry

From: Roland Osprey

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: About this afternoon.

Kill? I think you have the wrong two letters on the end of that word. You already did, and your autocorrect sucks.

Roland

Wrong two letters?

What does he mea—oh.

Kill.

Kiss.

Yep. Looks like I’m the one who’s about to meet my maker.

This is how I die. They’ll find me slumped over lifeless in this bed with my heart shorted out, facedown in a pool of mint-sludge.

To: Roland Osprey

From: Caroline Landry

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: About this afternoon.

I thought we weren’t talking about Austin???

Callie

Please don’t talk about this.

Please let me forget before my heart gets the wrong idea when my head knows better.

Then his reply hits my Inbox like a missile.

To: Caroline Landry

From: Roland Osprey

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: About this afternoon.

What about Austin, Miss Landry? Did you arrange to murder me there and scrubbed your plans because I’m so irresistible?

Roland

Holy hell.

That’s the most teasing, shit-eating email I’ve ever read in my life.

I’m definitely going to k-i-l-l him now. No misspellings this time.

“Keep it light, Callie. Keep it light,” I mutter.

I say it three times as I type out a response and punch Send.

To: Roland Osprey

From: Caroline Landry

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: About this afternoon.

That’s it. You’re on my naughty list again.

Callie

That’s not light.

That’s definitely not light.

Maybe before that kiss it could’ve been, but all I can see now is screaming innuendo in every word.

And it’s not nearly as bad as the next message, which almost sizzles with his baritone purr.

To: Caroline Landry

From: Roland Osprey

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: About this afternoon.

I can’t wait to see what you plan to do to me, Mrs. Claus. I just hope you’ll give me Christmas in July.

Roland

I’m going to drop dead for realsies if my heart beats any faster.

So this time, I don’t answer.

I can’t answer when he’s spinning me like a record. So I just press my phone to my chest, telling myself to breathe.

Breathe, count to one hundred, and stop thinking about Jekyll and Hyde.

Stop thinking about how he’ll react when I see him for an all-staff meeting come Monday with my mouth painted the most fiery shade of magenta I can find.

I’ll punish him, all right. I’ll—

My phone nearly jumps in my hand with the trill of an incoming call. My pulse mirrors it, and I pull my phone back so I can look at the screen, holding my breath, anticipating Roland’s name on the caller ID. I want it with an ache that scares me.