Page 8 of Tangling with the Boss

Hazel beams up at me like I’m her hero. And fuck,thisis the gift that finally warms her up to me? Not the flowers or the cookies. This is the trick to punching down the wall she’s built between us?

A rent-by-the-hour lifeguard. This woman makes no sense.

“It’s done.”

My footsteps echo against the rooftop tiles, and I tug my phone out of my pocket, weirdly shaken by that whole interaction. By thatsmile.

Because what if I’m going about this all wrong? What if there’s something else Hazel wants from me that I’m not giving? Planting myself in a patch of shade, I close my eyes and let the breeze wash over my cheeks. My frozen heart is still numb inside me, the ice creeping through my chest.

One painful beat rattles my ribs. Two. Three.

Then I snap back into action and start typing on my phone, finding a last minute lifeguard. There’s still time to figure Hazel out. Still time to fix this.

There has to be.

* * *

“What do you want from me, exactly?”

The question makes Hazel jump where she’s loading up a refrigerator behind one of the pop-up bars. Crates of beer and wine bottles rest on the bar top, and Hazel lines their labels up neatly as she fills the chilled shelves. “What do you mean?” she asks, ducking her head. Her ponytail swishes over one shoulder.

Isn’t it obvious? So far, guess work has gotten me nowhere. That means I need to go on the attack. After all, I didn’t build a thriving business by being timid.

The sky all around us is stained pink, and the puffs of cloud are lit golden by the sunset. We’ve been working at this for hours already, stopping only for a rushed late lunch of deli sandwiches. The guests will arrive soon, and I’ll grit my teeth and smile through the whole night, and then Hazel can finally forget about this nonsense and focus on what is important: staying with me.

“You need to tell me how I can stop you from quitting.”

“I already have quit,” Hazel points out, lining up another beer bottle with a soft clink. “It’s done.” And she doesn’t need to set up these bars, doesn’t need to help with every single task, but my assistant actuallylikesbeing helpful. She told me once that it soothes her nerves.

Do her nerves need soothing right now?

Well, they can join the damn club.

“There must be something.” Rounding the bar to start loading a second refrigerator, I steal measuring glances at Hazel as she works. Sheseemsfine. A little flushed, maybe, but then we’ve been in the sun all afternoon, and I’m keeping an eye on that. Already made her sip her way through two big water bottles. Already made her apply sunscreen as I stood over her, glowering whenever she missed a spot. “You liked the lifeguard thing.”

Hazel hums, lifting a Pinot Grigio from the crate and scanning the label. “You’ve got me there, boss. I do like it when people don’t drown.”

She’s missing the point.

“You liked that more than the flowers, I mean. And you didn’t want a raise.”

I already tried that approach—plus more paid vacation, a fancier desk chair, and a membership at the fancy wellness spa three blocks from the office. All afternoon, I’ve been calling offers across the rooftop. Nothing. Not even a nibble.

My girl-scout of an assistant cannot be tempted.

Soon to beex-assistant.

Shit.

My frozen chest feels like it might cave in, but I wrestle the panic back down. That won’t help. Nothing will help until I’ve solved this problem.

“It’s a simple enough request.” My tone is too harsh, my words too clipped, and I should handle this better but I can’t. Not when she’s threatening to suck all the meaning from my life. “Just tell me what you want from me, damn it.”

Because if Hazel’s not behind that desk, what’s the point of going to the office at all? If I’m not working to give her the best possible salary and package, what’s the point of Grapevine? What’s the point ofme?

If Hazel is not near, will my heart even fucking beat?

“There’s nothing I want from you,” Hazel says, mechanically filling the refrigerator shelves, but the back of my neck prickles. Something about the measured tone of her voice gives her away: she’s lying! The beautiful wretch.

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