Boss Me Hard (Boss Me #2) (2 page)

“Travesty!” Sidney jokes.

I snort as I pop open the bottle and pour two full glasses of cheap red wine. “We can’t have that, not in the Williams household. What kind of host would I be?” I sidle back to the living room and hand her a glass, putting the bottle on the coffee table.

The movie is cheesy fun, and I find myself laughing along with Sidney at the eighties teenage drama. But a part of me can’t stop thinking about Dane, hasn’t stopped thinking about him since the incident in his office. Wondering what is going to happen next.

Should I wait for him to do something else? Or should I try to take the reins and show him how badly I want to taste him too?

“You okay over there?” Sidney asks, jarring me out of my thoughts.

I take a gulp of wine, wincing at the bite of tannins. “Yeah, sure, why?”

She smirks. “Because you’re awful breathy over a dance montage, so I figured you were somewhere else.”

My heart jumps in embarrassment. “Sorry. I’m here, I promise. I just… You know how it is when sometimes stuff rattles around in your head, and you can’t stop thinking about it even when you want to?”

“Anything you wanna talk about?”

I shake my head. “No, really, it’s fine.”

“I’m sure it is. Or rather,
he
is.”

I guess I’m not very subtle. I grimace and take another gulp. “It’s…kind of a tricky situation. Hard to explain.”

“Try me. I’m a good listener.” Her eyes shine with sincerity. “Seriously, it would be think about something other than my own terrible dating drama for a while. I’ve had a series of bad first dates recently, and I’d rather focus on someone else’s love life.”

Before I realize it, I find myself revealing to her my crush on my boss, and me accidentally leaving my journal out and having him find it.

Sidney gasps, her jaw dropping. “Oh God, did you totally die?”

I nod. A warm flush slides over my skin, up my throat. But this is purely alcohol-based, not embarrassment. “Except…it turns out he wasn’t horrified at all. I think he might actually like me too.” Naturally, there’s no way I’m going to admit to the things we’ve done—that’s between the two of us, and I’m nervous about her judging me. But it does feel good to spill the truth, even parts of it, to someone else.

Sidney purses her lips and tilts her head, scrutinizing me. “Sounds like it could have potential. But…be careful.” Her voice is gentle, laced with concern. “Workplace affairs can sometimes backfire, and I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

“I know.” I finger the rim of my glass, peering down into the dark red liquid. “It’s probably not smart of me to get tangled in this. But I can’t seem to resist him. It’s like there’s a magnet in my heart that pulls me right toward him. I can’t fight it, even if I wanted to.”

She gives a long sigh. “I haven’t felt that way about anyone in a long time. I miss that, to tell you the truth.”

“I bet McDoogle could help you feel that way,” I tease.

With a mock glare, she shakes her head. “He’s cute, but I don’t want to hook up with my prof. He’s too uptight for me anyway.” She pauses. “I started online dating a couple of months ago, and it’s crazy how many men out there aren’t interested in a single mom. Dating is hard when you’ve been out of it for so long.”

A song comes on the movie as they begin yet another dance sequence. I shift to face her. “Wanna talk about it?”

Her smile is warm, if not tinged with a bit of sadness. “Not really much to talk about. Dated a few duds. I’ve decided to spend my time refocusing on me and what makes me happy, instead of worrying so much about finding a guy.” She gives a wider grin, this time without any sadness. “And on developing my friends, which are worth a dozen men.”

I lean over and tap my wine glass against hers. “Cheers to that.” With that, I’m determined to stop thinking about Dane tonight. Whatever happens between us will still be there when the weekend is over; I’ll worry about that on Monday. Besides, I doubt he’s giving me a lot of thought. For all I know, he’s out on a date with some other woman.

The thought makes my heart tug, so I remind myself that for all he knows, I’m out on a date too.

I’m not powerless in this. I’m choosing to go into it with my eyes wide open, despite Sidney’s concerns. I’m sure I can keep my heart from getting tangled beyond repair.

I
really don’t want
to be here.

I’ve been staring at the front door for a good two minutes, debating whether I should walk away or just ring the fucking doorbell and get it over with. This waffling is so unlike me, and the longer I take, the more time is running out.

A cold wind slams into my back, almost pushing me toward the door. I take the subtle hint from nature and ring the doorbell.

After a few seconds, it opens, and my mom blinks as she peers at me, all her emotion naked on her face. “Dane. You’re here. I wasn’t expecting…” Her words are almost choked out, and it’s a guilty kick in the gut. She doesn’t look good; her eyes are tired, and her face is thinner than I remember.

“Hi, Mom.” I might not want to be here, but it’s clear I need to be.

She sucks in a breath through her nostrils and straightens her back, putting on her Good Mom face once again. The one I remember so well. “What am I thinking? Come in, come in. You must be freezing outside. But you’re really early. Dinner isn’t for another hour.”

She takes my coat, and I follow her inside to the spacious living room, decorated in soft creams and neutrals, as I remember. “I’m not staying for dinner,” I tell her in a firm tone. “I just came by to visit with you for a bit, since I haven’t done so in a while.”

I told my brother I’d call her, but last night I decided I should visit with her, instead. The guilt over my avoidance has been eating away at me bit by bit, and it was past time I stopped by. I still have no desire to see my brother or my ex, but my mom shouldn’t suffer like this over our issues. My dad doesn’t really give a shit where I am or what I do, not since I let him down by quitting his company.

I can see her movements stiffen as she hangs my coat in the hall closet.

“Oh. I see.” She turns to me, her smile a little brittle around the edges. I’ve disappointed her, but she doesn’t want me to see her hurt. And somehow, that makes me feel even worse. “Well, I’m glad you came even for a bit. I guess that’s progress, right? Let me get you a coffee.”

Mom brings me a black coffee and makes small talk for a few minutes, asking me a bunch of questions. I give all the right answers—yes, work is going great. Yes, I heard about my high school buddy who just had his third kid. Yes, I’ll make sure to send Aunt Rose a get-well card as she recovers from a bad bout of flu.

“Where’s Dad?” I ask.

“Your father had some work to catch up on this morning, but he’ll be here any time now,” she says, glancing at her thin gold watch. “He’d better be, anyway. I asked him to stop by the store and grab more coffee so we wouldn’t run out. You know how your brother lives off the stuff.” Her gaze darts to mine, and she offers a tight smile. “Anyway. Are you seeing anyone?”

“I was, but nothing serious, just the occasional date,” I say smoothly. “Busy with work anyway, so that’s fine.”

I will not talk about Emme with her.

A key scrapes the door, and I hear it open. My dad strolls in, carrying a plastic bag. To his credit, he doesn’t show too much surprise at seeing me, just gives a curt nod in my direction. He holds the bag up and says to my mom, “Got the coffee.”

“Thank you,” she tells him as she rises. “I’ll be right back,” she says to me.

She heads in his direction, and they murmur for a few moments. I hear my name mentioned a couple of times, and the pitch of her voice rises. Dad shakes his head. She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him, and he stares placidly at her, no emotion on his face whatsoever.

She grabs the bag, spins away from him, and moves to the kitchen at a clipped pace.

Dad takes off his long black overcoat and hangs it in the closet. It’s clear they were arguing about me. It’s also clear he doesn’t give a shit about whatever he said that upset Mom.

“What was that all about?” I ask him.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Pardon? What was what all about?”

I fight back a sigh and refuse to let any emotion on my face. Dad and his fucking head games. He likes to be the man in control, the one who never gets rattled. I learned a long time ago not to get caught up in a fight with him.

I don’t know how my mom does it. I don’t know why. But the only way I could make peace with it was to realize it’s not my damn business and let them live their lives.

I lean back on the couch and take a sip of my coffee, then another. I don’t say a word to him, just stare. He doesn’t intimidate me with these tactics. I see the streaks of gray at his temples, the deep crow’s feet around his eyes. The long hours of work and hard drinking and fucking around on Mom are taking their toll. He doesn’t look as good as he used to.

I should feel more satisfaction in that, but I don’t. I just feel cold, and tired of the bullshit.

After a long stretch of time, Dad breaks eye contact first and moves out of the living room. I hear a door click softly behind him, most likely his home office, where he’ll stay holed up until it’s time to eat. Dad puts on a good face in front of people…unless you’re related to him.

There’s a grinding sound in the kitchen as Mom gets the coffee beans prepared for company. I put my mug on the coffee table, then head into the kitchen. Sunlight pours through the large windows over the sink, warming the room with a golden glow. The black granite sparkles in the light, and the maple cabinets are pristine. Mom runs a tight ship.

“Are you sure you won’t stay for food?” she asks me. “I made plenty.”

She’s trying so hard to sound nonchalant, but I know better. I’ve heard her use this tone on my dad when trying to convince him to do something he doesn’t want. My chest tightens in response. I’m not like him. I don’t hurt the people I care about.

“I can’t do it,” I say, surprised to hear myself admitting the truth in such a raw manner. But the words have spilled out before I could stop them.

She turns away from the coffee grinder and takes a few steps toward me. Her hands reach out and grasp my forearms. In her eyes is a deep, resonant sorrow, a vivid response to the honesty I just shared. “I know it’s hard for you. Believe me, I know. It’s just that I miss the way things used to be, and I know they’ll never be like that again even though I want them to be. I keep hoping you’ll be able to shake it off and come back around, but that’s foolish, selfish thinking on my part.”

“It’s not selfish to want to be happy,” I say as I peer down into her eyes, which suddenly look tired. “I want that for you, and—”

“I know. It’s okay.” Her gaze turns down to the ground between us. I see threads of gray in her hair, something I don’t remember seeing before. The months that have stretched between my visits suddenly stand out in my mind. I’ve been keeping away because of my brother and ex, because of my dad, but she’s the one hurt in the crossfire.

There’s a hard knock on the front door, interrupting our moment. Mom’s head darts up, and I see her blink away her feelings. In a flash, she’s back to her usual self, like none of this had ever happened.

In the past, the shift, the fakeness of hers, frustrated me, made me push away from her even more. But right now, I get it. It’s how she copes. I can’t resent her for getting through life however she can. We all do what we gotta do.

“I think that’s them,” she says in a crisp tone. “They’re early. I’d better go answer the door.” She strides away from me.

I go to the closet and grab my coat, wishing I’d picked a different day to visit. She and I need to talk, that much is sure. But not here, and not right now. I vow to take her out of this house for a while, maybe to dinner, where she doesn’t have to put on a face. I need to be a better son to her.

The door flies open, bringing in a gush of cold air, and in comes Marianne, her blond bob blowing around her elvish face. She stops in place when she sees me. “Dane,” she says in a breathy voice; her large blue eyes are wide. “I... Hello.”

I don’t know what it is—because we haven’t seen each other in months, or because I had a real moment of connection with my mom, or I didn’t let my dad rattle me…or maybe losing myself in Emme’s amazing taste on Friday recalibrated something in me. But I don’t feel anything when I look at her beautiful face. Not anger, not love, not lust, not sorrow.

Just a blissful indifference.

Maybe I’m starting to make peace with the situation after all.

I shrug on my coat then press a kiss to my mom’s cheek. “I’m heading out. Enjoy your dinner. I’ll call you next week—I think we should go out soon to Rue 42 for seafood. What do you say?”

The sheer pleasure in Mom’s eyes makes me glad I asked her. “Yes, that would be great.”

I’m just moving past Marianne when she says to me, “You look good, Dane.” Her gaze rakes over my figure, like she’s seeing me for the first time. There’s no mistaking the tiny flare of interest in her eyes. Clearly she expected me to look terrible. Like not being with her is eating me up inside or something.

My brother is coming up the sidewalk, bearing an armful of bags. His attention is straight ahead on the two of us, his lips a thin slash.

I sidestep to add distance between me and Marianne, then head past my brother, giving him a quick nod of acknowledgment, my eyes locked straight ahead. That’s about all I can muster for him right now, because while my feelings for Marianne are nonexistent, my deep-seated frustration at him is still there. After all, he’s my blood. My brother.

I don’t know how to stop feeling this way toward him. But at some point, I need to, if only for my peace of mind.

Some point, maybe.

But not today.

I get in my car and drive away.

* * *

F
ucking hangover
.

Sitting in my office the next morning, I grimace and rub my fingertips along my temples, my brow, where the lingering vestiges of last night’s party of one still taunt me. After getting home from my parents’ house, I holed up inside my condo and thought.

Thought and drank.

My head wouldn’t stop with all the shit running through my brain. My dad, my brother and Marianne, my mom’s sad eyes…

Emme.

Every time I let myself have a minute of quiet, the memory of Emme’s soft sighs creep into my consciousness, and I find I’m aching all over again to go balls-deep into her. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a woman this badly in my life.

Last night, sitting in my den, thinking about all of this, I realized this undertaking with her is probably not the best idea I’ve ever had. Something about this woman knocks me off balance.

I’ve never seen such a lack of artifice in a person before. The comparison between my family and her, the way she just opens up and lets me in without any real reservations, is something that leaves me questioning everything.

Emme doesn’t seem like the type to be into a friends-with-benefits situation. No emotions, just raw, fleshly pleasure. And I know for sure I’m not ready for anything more serious than casual sex right now.

I prop my elbows on my desk and rub the back of my neck hard enough to make the skin hurt. If I’m not careful with Emme…I get the feeling she could crack my chest open and leave me bruised. I don’t think I can risk that.

My phone rings. I let it go to voicemail. Outside my office I can hear the morning sounds picking up as people come in, mingle, ask about weekends and brew coffee. I should be out there, being friendly, being boss-like. But instead, I’m holed up in here, trying to avoid the one woman I can’t seem to stop thinking about.

There’s a knock on my door. I’m tempted to pretend I’m not here, then chastise myself for the ridiculous impulse. For fuck’s sake, what am I, a teenager? I’m not going to hide out in my damn office all day in an effort to keep from feeling up my personal assistant. This is stupid.

“Come in,” I say in a tone that sounds far too close to a growl.

The door cracks open in a hesitant manner, and I see curly brown hair, then Emme’s lovely face peering in. “Hi, are you busy?”

Something in my heart squeezes at the soft hesitation in her tone. “No, I’m fine.”

She comes in and closes the door behind her. Today she’s wearing slim-fit black pants with a bold red dress shirt, open at the throat. The color is striking on her, bringing out the delicate flush in her cheeks.

Again, I’m amazed at myself, how I went so long before noticing the genuine beauty standing before me. How could I have been so blind?

I square my chin and lean back in my chair, attempting to shake off the hunger threatening to burst forth. “What can I do for you?” My tone is cool, not belaying the heat humming just beneath my skin.

She flushes and clears her throat. “Oh. I wanted to go over your schedule, since…I believe you’re double booked this afternoon. I was wondering which conference call I should reschedule.” She steps toward me, and the light scent of flowery perfume hits me. I find my lower belly clenching in response, my dick stirring just a touch.

No,
I order myself. Before I let myself get lost in her taste again, I need to cool the fuck down and make sure I don’t lose myself in the process. And yet…before I realize it, I’m leaning in toward her, my fingers sliding toward her hand, which is resting on the top of my desk.