Coldhearted Boss

By Friday morning, I’m so happy about the prospect of going home. Not only will I get a decent night’s sleep, I’ll also have a break from incessantly attempting to please a man who is apparently un-pleasable.

I get the sense he’s not going to forgive me for my perceived grievances against him any time soon, and maybe I’m not all that angry about it because deep down, I know I deserve his anger. I did steal from him. I did use him. Just because I didn’t take the cash doesn’t mean I didn’t do anything wrong.

I thought perhaps he’d start to be charmed by my hardworking enthusiasm, but no.

It’d be different if I were making progress, if I saw a hint of a smile peek out from beneath his moody exterior, if even one kind word had been uttered in my direction, even once. Don’t get me wrong, we do talk, but it’s only if it pertains to work, and there’s no fluff around it, no blooming comradery among coworkers.

I watch him carefully whenever he interacts with other people to try to determine if I’m reading too much into his treatment of me. Like Max said, it could just be his personality. My findings are as follows: he’s not chummy with the crew, though that’s not all that surprising—no one wants to hang out with their boss after hours. With Robert and a few of the subcontractors, though, he’s relaxed and—dare I say—good-natured. Last night, he ate dinner outside with them and I saw him smile. The glorious sight threw me for such a loop that I tripped over my own foot and pitched forward onto the dirt. Fortunately, Max helped me scramble back to my feet and I brushed my jeans off quickly. When I peered back over in Ethan’s direction, he was back to scowling. Ah yes, that’s more like it.

But honestly…DIMPLES. I saw them!

Mr. I’d-rather-die-than-smile-in-your-vicinity has dimples!

If that’s not injustice, I don’t know what is.

I’m still thinking of that smile at quitting time on Friday. Truth be told, I’ve been carrying it around with me all day like it’s my little reward for a week of hard work. Why, you might ask? Why do I care at all about Ethan’s smile? Why, after everything we’ve been through, do I still think of him incessantly? Oh, it’s simple: despite his cold demeanor and bad attitude, I can’t seem to stop myself from wanting his attention. I know it’s purely physical. I know his muscular build and perfect jawline are catnip to my libido. I know, I know, I know, and yet I want, I want, I want.

I can’t turn it off. I can’t help the memories of our kiss that flood my mind.

Because that’s the thing I cannot quite comprehend: I KISSED THIS MAN.

At one point, this arrogant boss of mine wanted me so badly he followed me into a public bathroom and hauled me up onto the sink and kissed me like I was the sweetest damn thing he’d ever tasted. I get a tingle down my spine just thinking of it.

I wonder if he thinks about it too…

I shake the thought from my head when I spot Jeremy in the distance. I’ve been leaning against his truck for the past hour, expecting him to show up any minute. All my stuff is already tucked away inside due to the fact that the truck has been my bedroom for most of the week. All we gotta do is start ’er up and head home.

I can’t wait to get a tight hug from McKenna. I can’t wait to see my mom smile, happier than ever because we’re all three together again. Without a doubt, there’s a stack of pancakes in my future, and my stomach grumbles just thinking about it.

“Where’ve you been?” I ask as Jeremy nears.

It’s later than I was planning on leaving. All but a few cars have gone. Even Ethan already headed back home for the weekend—not that I noticed him driving off in his truck or the fact that he didn’t even wave as he passed me by.

That’s when I see Jeremy’s face and notice it doesn’t shine with happiness at the prospect of being reunited with his beloved Khloe in just a couple of hours. In fact, he looks shocked. His hair is standing on end like he’s been tugging his hands through it. His eyes are wide and red-rimmed.

“What’s going on?” I ask, right before he reaches out and pulls me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe.

“Taylor…I’m…” He laughs and sounds absolutely deranged. Did someone slip him something during lunch?

“What? What’s wrong?!”

“I’m going to be a dad,” he finally forces out, barely above a whisper.

I jerk back, hands flying to cup either side of my face. “What?!”

What is he talking about? We were just at work. Dad? What? How? Who did he impregnate?