Bad Teacher
“Let’s go,” he says, grabbing one of my jackets hanging on the coat hangers. He holds it out to me and waits until I put my arms in, helping me put it on. How chivalrous.
But then why does it feel like he’s just totally ignoring the fact he complimented me?
Like he’s trying to forget about it? Weird.
I grab Pepper’s leash and tell her to come. TJ opens the door, and I smile brightly when he lets me go through first. So I hand him back the compliment by saying, “I like your hair.”
Which leaves him flabbergasted in the hallway while I saunter off with the dog. Exactly according to plan.
Chapter 8
Lesley
A few days later, and I’m already getting used to working for TJ and his little doggy. Well, my little doggy, I suppose. She’s quite cute if you push the possibility of a Jaws scenario out of your mind. The way she walks is too funny as if she’s some kind of stretched-out, waggling duck.
And not just that; we’ve really made some progress in the toy department too. I’ve figured out Pepper’s fond of squeakers. The more, the better. I think I can work that into a design. I also discovered she does this weird sneeze every time something exciting is about to come her way, like some biscuits or a toy, and we could definitely use that in a commercial or something.
While working on the products, I keep eyeing TJ whenever I can. He often passes by where I sit, talking with colleagues and drawing attention from all the female employees. I don’t think he even notices how much they all swoon for him. I see it all the time, and for some reason, it makes me feel stabby. Of course, I ignore the feelings. There’s no room for that when he’s my boss …
Besides, he must have girls lined up for him. No way I wanna be anywhere near a man who attracts that much pussy. It’s bad for my health.
No, I’m better off focusing on my job, which is creating a new toy and developing a marketing strategy for it.
However, right now, I can’t be too busy designing and coming up with marketing concepts because TJ asked me to serve coffee to the board members while he gives them an update on what’s going on with Toys4Dogs right now. He’s been on edge all day, shuffling back and forth between the mirror and constantly adjusting his tie and suit while clearing his throat and practicing his speech. I never realized what a stressful job this must be, to constantly be responsible for everything that happens and still having to answer to a bunch of pricks in suits.
No wonder I often catch him talking to himself … or dancing with coffee in his hand.
It’s his way to reduce his nerves. That, and he’s just a really, really weird guy. But in a good way, of course.
I grab all the coffee cups I have lined up and put them on the tray along with some sugar and cream, and then I walk up to the biggest room in the building. Through the glass, I can see them sitting at the long table, staring at TJ who’s practically sweating out of his suit. I can tell from the beads rolling down his forehead. He’s got it rough, so I hope this little break eases them.
After taking a deep breath, I knock on the door and wait until he calls me in.
I open the door and try to look as professional as I can while I walk inside. As silent as I can, I place a cup in front of each of the men, trying not to disturb them. I don’t want to pull the attention away from TJ’s important meeting. So I place every cup down with care and offer some sugar and cream along with it, just as a good intern would do.
Except there’s one small, teeny-tiny problem I didn’t account for.
A bump in the rug.
And my heels struggling with it to the point of making me fall … face first … to the floor.
The coffee splatters all over the rug, the noise impossibly loud like a drum.
I close my eyes for a second, mentally punishing myself for not being more aware of my surroundings and worrying that I might have burned something.
But then his voice makes me lift my head. “Shit. Are you okay?”
I look up to stare right into his beautiful dark eyes. He’s actually worried about me. More than about the mess I made. Or the men who I pissed off.
“Shit …” I mumble. “Sorry.”
He holds out his hand. “Let me help you.”
“Oh, my god, look at the carpet,” one of the men growls as I grab TJ’s hand, and he helps me up from the floor. “It’s ruined,” the guy adds.