Mr. Hot Boss To Go (A Forbidden Romance)

I merely sigh and smile again because Sierra doesn’t understand that I have zero chance of ever meeting the extraordinarily handsome Rowan Crane. As an intern, my job consistently has me doing make-work tasks like typing letters that never get sent. It’s really bad. But hey, at least typing letters helps me avoid conversations with Harvey.

Besides, I’m glad to have the job because most rising sophomores don’t get internships at all, so landing the position with Crane Technologies was a total surprise. To this day, I still have no idea how I was picked because I have zero technical skills, not to mention zero interest in science. But it happened, and I should be grateful and get myself to work. Popping the last bit of granola bar into my mouth, I pick up my purse and wave.

“Gotta run!” I smile. “Have a good day, and don’t spill coq au vin on yourself!”

Sierra rolls her eyes and waves too.

“I won’t!” she calls back. “Don’t get any of Mr. Crane’s bodily fluids on you!”

Giggling, I hurry down the stairs and then out onto the streets of New York. A blast of summer humidity hits my exposed skin as soon as I step outside, and I’m happy I have a short skirt on because any fabric would be sticking like glue to my body. Hurriedly, I dart into the subway and subject myself to an even more humid environment before arriving at a big glass building that has the words Crane Technologies emblazoned across the front. Mr. Crane grew this company from basically nothing into the behemoth it is now, and with a resolute nod of my head, I open the door and then make my way to my cubicle on the twentieth floor.

Unfortunately, I can smell Harvey before I’d even logged into my computer. His straw colored hair and acne were bad enough to look at, but his breath was the absolute worst.

“Good morning, Natalie,” Harvey sings while peering around the cube wall. My heart sinks. I try to be as nice to him as I can, but the college student doesn’t respect my personal space. Even worse, it’s not like he’s a genius who’s able to cruise through the internship. Quite the opposite: Harvey doesn’t seem to work, period. He sits at his desk playing video games most of the time, and I can’t quite understand how or why Crane hired him. Then again, I don’t understand why they hired me either, so it’s all a big mystery.

“Morning Harvey,” I manage with a tight smile.

He grins, and even though it’s 10 a.m., there’s already broccoli stuck in his teeth.

“So what are we working on today, Nats? Do you need me to come and sit with you and help with the computer stuff?” he asks.

I sigh because just once, I asked him to look at an excel spreadsheet for me. It was just one time, I swear! But now, Harvey uses it as a reason to bother me on a daily basis.

Before I can even respond, he’s pulled his chair around the desk and taken a seat uncomfortably close to me. His halitosis is so strong that I literally feel faint from the smell of rotting garbage. Seriously, is this some sort of medical condition that he can’t fix? Trying not to visibly wince, I back away.

“Um sorry, I’ve got to go get some coffee,” I say, pushing my chair from the desk and standing.

“I’ll come with,” Harvey replied, also jumping up from his seat. But in his haste, he knocks his tea into his lap and immediately lets out a shriek of pain. “Oh, it’s hot, it’s hot!” he wails. “Ohhhh!”

Quickly, I help him stand, and escort him to the men’s bathroom before retreating.

“I can’t go in there with you, but just take some wet paper towels and blot, okay? You’ll be fine!” I say in an encouraging voice. Harvey nods and sniffles, and then the door swings shut. Meanwhile, I take the opportunity to head to the kitchen for some coffee myself.

The kitchen is just off to the right, and I breathe a sigh of relief when entering the clean white space. The good thing about Crane Technologies is that they provide free snacks, in addition to free coffee. It makes a difference because being poor in NYC sucks. I get enough food to meet my nutritional needs, but the extras at work definitely help.

But now, I’m actually being sneaky because sometimes I get hungry at night too. Surreptitiously, I looked around the kitchen to make sure no one’s coming. Then, I slipped some of the fun-size Cheetos and granola bars into my pocket. But that’s when my eyes landed on the grand prize itself: pink packets of my favorite sugar substitute. A brand new giant bin sits near the coffee.