Page 22 of Bossed By The Boggart

“You think…I’m undermining you? Wyn, I think you’re one of the most competent employees I’ve ever had at Boggleworks. I promise I’m not calling you out.”

“Then what are you doing?”

Flirting with you.

“I…just enjoy talking to you—engaging you. I’m truly sorry you felt attacked by my questions. I only wanted to interact with you.”

“So this bet isn’t about challenging me?”

“Not in the way you think, no. I will admit it’s one of the few things I’ve ever disagreed with you on. You’re brilliant at marketing, but that doesn’t make you infallible on the topic.”

She snorts. “But you think you’re better?”

“In this specific instance, yes. Would it be the end of the world for me to be right?”

“In my book.”

I laugh. “You know it’s ok to be wrong sometimes, right?”

Wyn rolls her eyes. “Are you ever wrong?”

“Every day of my life.”

She stares at me. “What have you been wrong about today?”

“Actually quite a few things, but I’m trying to fix what happened between us. Should we call off this bet?”

“Why?”

“Because I just realized you think I did it just to undermine you.”

“Did you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then why?”

“The truth…because I’ll never get another chance to kiss you.”

Wyn looks away, her cheeks flushing a dark mauve that’s so gorgeous, I nearly bundle her into my arms and smooch her senseless.

“No, I don’t want to call off the bet, but no hard feelings when you lose?”

I chuckle. “Whatever you need to tell yourself—but I’ll do better at Monday meetings, though. I didn’t realize you felt this way. Thank you for telling me. Also, you know you get personal days. You don’t need to call in sick.”

She nods. “I’m sorry for lying. My thoughts are a bit of a mess, and anger seems to be a default setting in me.”

“A defense mechanism?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

“Listen, I admit that I like to get under your skin sometimes, but I’m genuinely not trying to infuriate you. I think you’re amazing.”

Before she can say anything, Jake runs back in, his arms laden with toys. “Look what I have!”

He jumps up on the couch beside me, talking a mile a minute while Wyn shouts over him to give me some space.

“He’s fine,” I reassure her, loving every second of her son’s attention.

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