Office Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

“Are you sure? It sounds like no matter what I do, you love to find fault.” She grabs her laptop, huffing out a breath, and stands.

“Wait.”

Her free hand goes to her hip and she glares at me.

“What the hell is on your laptop? You can’t come to executive meetings looking like a college sophomore. Is that sticker supposed to be garlic?”

“Yep. Garlic wards off evil spirits and vampires. Like my boss, for one.”

Inwardly, I groan. This woman will be the death of me.

Don’t laugh.

Stay firm.

“And why the hell does your magic garlic have eyes and feet?”

She shrugs. “It’s cartoon garlic. I thought it was cute.”

Of course, it is. She’s a graphic designer at heart, after all.

“Remove it,” I tell her, folding my arms.

With one last roll of her eyes, she storms off. I don’t know if that was a yes or a no. But so help me God, if I see that garlic staring at me again, she’s gone.

Before I’ve packed up my laptop and left, she reappears in the doorway, chewing her bottom lip.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Umm—where’s the creative department where I’m supposed to go brainstorm?”

“I’ll walk you over before I go back to my office,” I say, without really thinking.

Why? I don’t escort people around here. That sounds like something I pay someone else for.

Whatever, though. I’ve already said it, and if she’s holding a grudge over my tirade, she knows how to hide it.

So I grab my stuff and walk her to Hugo’s department like a gentleman.

As I introduce her to the crowd, I think that goddamned garlic bulb on her laptop winks at me.

I swear. If it’s not gone tomorrow, she is, before she takes my sanity.

It’s a promise, and I’m a man of my word.7Bad Omen (Sabrina)The creative department already feels like home.

The meeting room is this candy-bright space with vivid splashes of blues and pinks, alongside funny memes plastered on the wall. Outside, the designers have cozy cubicles with little tchotchkes everywhere. It’s vibrant, young, inspiring...and fun.

Not something I associated with HeronComm and its permanent-stick-up-the-ass owner until now.

“Wow! This place is awesome,” I gush.

A woman in khakis and a blue three-quarter sleeve shirt laughs. “Says the woman who works in the executive suite. Everything’s polished like a castle over there.”

“More like a fancy dungeon,” I grumble. I tried to put up one of my cat designs on my wall, and Heron made me take it down, calling it “unprofessional.”

She holds out her hand. “Angie.”

“Brina.” I give her a handshake.

Hugo bounds up to us, out of breath as he usually is whenever I see him these days. It’s not because he’s a big guy. More like the poor guy is running for his life, wherever our boss is concerned. I feel for him.

“Oh, good. Intros are out of the way, I see.” He looks at me. “Angie’s my lead designer. Thank you so much for what you did back there. You really saved my bacon.”

“No big deal.” I smile because it’s all I can do.

Anywhere else I’ve ever worked, it wouldn’t be a big deal by default to help out during a team meeting. But my dickhead boss seems to think he is the team.

Didn’t he get the memo every place that runs on corporate speak holds dear? There’s no I in team!

“It was a huge deal, Brina,” Hugo insists. He holds his hands above his head and then stretches them out. “You practically rescued my job back there.”

I laugh. “No way. He’s not that much of an ogre, right? You think he would’ve fired you on the spot?”

The grim look Hugo gives me over his glasses says everything.

Oof.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him. “Everyone has a bad concept now and then. It just happens, and if Mr. Heron hasn’t figured that out by now, he’d better. Creativity isn’t something you can turn on and off like a faucet. No one’s on point every single time.”

The smile leaves Angie’s face.

“So, uh...I’m not trying to scare you because I know you’re new here. But you don’t know Magnus Heron,” she says. “He doesn’t tolerate anything less than perfection every time. No excuses. Designers may have a bad day or crappy concept at other companies, but here...there’s no room for it.”

“That’s totally unrealistic,” I hiss, but knowing what I do about my boss, it’s not unrealistic for him—and that’s the problem. “Nobody hits home runs all the time. That’s just not how life works.”

Hugo and Angie exchange worried glances.

“Well, Heron is a hundred percent perfect a hundred percent of the time—”

“He thinks he is, you mean,” I tell her.

Crap. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

I definitely didn’t mean the sarcastic laugh that followed. I cover my mouth with my hands.

Angie and Hugo both laugh, finally more at ease.

“Um, please don’t let that get back to him,” I say.