Page 5 of Tangling with the Boss

That’s my cue to leave her be, to let her wrap up in her own time, but I don’t move an inch. Don’t think I can willingly leave Hazel’s side until she agrees to stay. My body won’t allow it.

When it’s clear I’m not leaving, Hazel rolls her eyes and wraps up the call. The phone clicks back into its cradle, then she sighs up at me. Shrugs.

“I’m done here. Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

To both of us. Haven’t thought that far ahead yet.

All I know is: I need Hazel by my side to feel okay.

Three

Hazel

Leo Corbin has never taken me out on errands before. He’s not the type to want company, you know? Too surly. He’s more of a big, cranky storm cloud that drifts down the street, with people leaping to get out of his way. At least, that’s howIthink of him.

So it’s weird seeing other people react to my boss, especially out here in the real world. After four years at Grapevine, bringing him coffees and soothing his prickly temper, I’m so used to seeing him through his employees’ eyes.

The stern, brooding boss. Handsome but icy.Unapproachable.

Turns out there’s another way to see him.

Because out here on the bright, sunshine-drenched sidewalk, Leo can’t walk ten meters without someone batting their eyelashes at him, smiling a come-hither smile, or shamelessly raking him with their gaze. Even dogs strain on their leashes, trying to get closer to the giant, dark-haired man with a permanent scowl.

At his side, I am invisible. Hurrying to keep up with his long strides, and trying desperately to ignore the prickles of jealousy every time someone checks my boss out. Even the dogs.

And I get it, okay? Leo is gorgeous. A stone-cold ten. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and severe in that way that gives me full-body shivers, so I can’t judge. I’m a card-carrying member of the Leo Corbin Simp Society—and yet if one more random pedestrian bites their lower lip at my boss, I am going to vomit on his pristine white shirt.

“Ugh.” Call me petty, but after the most shameless eye-fucking yet, I can’t help scoffing. “That redhead practically drooled on her shoes.”

“Mm?” Leo glances down at me, distracted. “What are you talking about?”

“Her.” My thumb jabs over my shoulder. Leo frowns behind us, nonplussed, then takes my elbow to guide me around a crack in the sidewalk. His hand print tingles against my bare arm. “That woman wanted to climb you like a tree, boss.”

He harrumphs, turning his back on her. “I’m not open for climbing.”

That shouldnotmake me so warm and gooey.

It’s a beautiful day for heartbreak. The sidewalks bustle with people, and the golden sun warms the tops of our heads. The air is fresh, green leaves whisper on the trees that line this street, and after a while the rumble of distant traffic vibrates into my stiff muscles and soothes their knots. My chest loosens, and I breathe deeply.

I can do this.

I can let this man go.

I can walk away from the only all-consuming crush I’ve ever had; the only case of deep, unrequited love in my adult life. I’ve got this!

It’s good that I’m leaving. There’s no need to feel so hollow, like someone’s scraped out my insides with a rusty spoon. There’s no need to steal glances at my silent, solemn boss, fretting over whether he’s taking the news well. Of course he’s okay! Why wouldn’t he be?

This is the right thing to do.

This is healthy. Smart.

So why do tears burn in the back of my eyes whenever I think about leaving Leo? Why does picturing another assistant behind my desk make me feel sick? Why does the thought of serving another boss, day in and day out, make me want to veer off this sidewalk into traffic?

“Hay fever?” my boss clips out, frowning straight ahead.

“Yeah,” I lie, sniffling and dabbing my eyes with my wrist. “It’s, um. It’s all this pollen.”

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