Bossy Grump

He leans closer. My traitor lungs inhale my boss and adore it.

My fingernails skim up my thighs under the table. A decadent heat that shouldn’t exist crackles through me.

Okay, never mind, I haven’t quashed anything.

“Where’s Grandma?” he whispers, looking around.

“Charity conference,” I say quickly. “She left this morning. Something in affordable housing co-sponsored by Heron and Heron,” I say, smiling at Brina and Mag’s company being involved.

“She’s usually here.” He shakes his head, a disappointed look on his face. “Well, since Grandma and Nick are out, make sure you take good notes. She’ll want to know every word that was said.”

I give him the deadpan cheese-grin that always pisses him off so much.

“Best notes ever. Got it.” I turn my computer so he sees the open document on my screen. “However, Mrs. Brandt prefers summaries, so I’ll make sure to condense everything before sending it on to her.”

Andrew goes back to his whiplash presentation, so Ward doesn’t even have the chance to respond. Ha.

An hour later, Marketing Guy has another meeting to get to, so the meeting ends. I’m glad it’s almost lunchtime.

“Go ahead and send me a copy of the notes now, Miss Holly,” Ward says.

“Sure.”

Naturally, I couldn’t resist having a little fun. Every time his name was mentioned I used Wardhole.

Yes, I’ll clean it up before I send the notes to Beatrice and Nick, but Ward needs his copy now. Unedited.

Here you go, Wardhole. Happy reading.

I type in his email and click send.

He opens the document before I stand. He has to quality inspect everything I touch, you know. It would be entirely too much for him to just assume I’m smart enough to take one damn hour of notes.

He scans the first page. “These are very detailed.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t respond.

“Wardhole?” he grunts.

I shrug. “Well, if the shoe fits...”

“You. And here I thought it was the barista all this time.” His eyes skewer me, sending another balmy flush down my body.

“Are you serious?” I ask.

He glares at me. “No.”

“Oh, good.” I laugh. “I was gonna say if you believed that, then—never mind.”

I close my laptop, tuck it under my arm, and slide off my chair.

He stands. “You know I’m your boss, right?”

“Actually, I don’t report to you ‘exclusively,’ last I checked. And your grandma doesn’t care that I ruffle your feathers. She thinks it’s funny,” I say.

“Grandma talks to you about me?” His face becomes stone, and he closes the space between us, reminding me just how big and imposing that body can be.

My boss eclipses me.

He’s like a giant with a little boy’s expression when he gets mad. I bite my lip, but I can’t hide the grin.

We talked about him once, technically.

Beatrice told me to shrug off his shenanigans and match them with my own. Good advice. But I’m not about to tell him his name casually comes up sometimes.

“I’m afraid I could never betray her confidence, Mr. Brandt,” I say pointedly.

He follows me to the elevator I summon, ready to hit the café on the main floor.

“Why are you discussing me with my grandmother?” he demands.

I punch the elevator button. “Ask her. Like I said, I’m not discussing my personal conversations with Mrs. Brandt. It’s unprofessional.”

The elevator opens and he follows me in.

Being stuck in a confined space with a walking Adonis who smells like mint mocha would be hard enough, except now I have to focus on not laughing my butt off. All because this uptight suit is actually worried about what I did or didn’t say to his grandmother.

“Since when are you professional? When we met, you were stumbling through a museum with some scumbag cornering you,” he growls.

My smile wilts.

Dude. I’m so tired of hearing about that night. I stare him dead in the eye.

“If you ever mention that incident again, I’ll—” I stop mid-sentence.

I’ll what? He’s the boss. I can’t threaten him with HR. He’s like a foot taller than me and a whole lot broader. I’m not sure I could kick his ass with a whole case of pies.

“You’ll what, Miss Holly?” he whispers, boxing me in with another step forward, his body and scent and those dark-lagoon eyes stealing the air from my lungs.

“I’ll...I’ll tell your grandma!” I burst out.

He quirks a brow and scoffs. “She already knows what happened. I told her, remember? When I tried to talk her out of hiring you?”

“I’ll tell her you won’t quit harassing me about it then. It’s not my fault the guy was a creep. I had no idea who you were. I just needed help from a decent man who wouldn’t keep guilt tripping me. I thought I found him that night, but...I was wrong.”

The elevator door opens, thank God.

Ward hits the CLOSE button.

“I did help you. I ran him off in full retreat, if memory serves.”