Baby for the Bosshole

“You’ve seen his work before,” he says.

“I have?” My ex-boyfriends never bought me flowers, and GrantEm doesn’t invest in ventures as small and ordinary as flower shops.

“Larry does the flowers for the GrantEm events. Those roses you got for making the top five among your peers came from his place.”

Huh. I remember them being exceptionally large and fresh. Still, there has to be more to Emmett’s mom’s liking the florist than just his thumbs being intensely green. “So what did he do? Save your mom from a mugger?”

“Not quite that dramatic. But Mom did have her purse snatched. While everyone was busy digging out their phones to film the event, he offered to call Mo

m an Uber and gave her some cash so she could get home safely. He told Mom he’d offer to drive, but that might not make her feel comfortable, considering.”

“Wow. That was nice of him.” It sounds like a meet-cute from a romantic comedy.

“He’d just opened his shop, and it was doing okay. But when I heard about it from Mom, I wanted to do something.”

It makes sense. If somebody ever did something similar for me, Dad would fix the man’s car for free for life.

“Before I forget…” Emmett reaches into a drawer underneath the coffee table and pulls out a sleek black key card with a long series of numbers stamped on it. “Here. For you.”

“What is it?”

“A guest access key to the garage. You can also scan it over the door there to get inside. And if you lose the card, you can input the first three and last three digits directly into the system to get in. So you should memorize those.”

“Oh.” I continue to stare at the shiny plastic. I’ve never exchanged keys with any of my ex-boyfriends. It always felt too personal and involved. Like mi casa es tu casa, but more invasive. My bed is your bed. My time is your time.

“Here,” Emmett says. “Take it.”

No way to gracefully escape. I wrap stiff fingers around the card. “Um. Does this mean you want a key to my place…?”

He shakes his head. “I remember what you said about living with Sasha. But it’ll be easier if you can come here anytime, rather than wait for me to get home first or ask the housekeeper to let you in.”

“Thanks,” I say, pleased that he isn’t being difficult about the whole thing. “But you aren’t worried about letting me in here? What if I come over and rob you blind?”

“You would never do that. I wouldn’t have asked you to move in with me earlier if I couldn’t trust you.”

Wow. That’s the nicest thing Emmett has ever said to me. Well, he’s said other stuff, like how hot he thought I was, but he’s complimenting my character—and we’re both fully clothed at the moment. I should mark the date on a calendar.

“Besides, I know where you work.” He winks. “Hey, are you hungry?”

“No, but I could use a drink.”

He moves to the kitchen, me following. He reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of sparkling pink lemonade from a local beverage company.

“How did you know that’s my favorite?”

“How could I not know? Other than coffee, it’s the only thing you drink in the office.” He uncaps it and hands it to me.

Surprised he noticed. “Thanks.” I take a sip and sigh. It’s so, so good. I’m going to miss this when I move to Virginia.

“Can you keep next weekend free?” Emmett asks.

“Why?”

“I want to take you to La Jolla. I have a vacation home there, so we can spend the weekend in San Diego. Maybe scuba dive, if you’re certified. If not, we’ll think of something.”

“Actually, I am certified. Got my license in high school.” When I graduated, Dad and I went on a scuba tour in the Caribbean. We loved it, although we never got a chance to try again because I’ve been so busy. Diving in San Diego sounds fantastic.

“Awesome! There’s this amazing kelp forest. You’ll love it.” He smiles, his eyes twinkling, making him look a hundred times hotter and more approachable. “If we’re lucky, we might get to see some seals, too.”