Page 16 of Broken Boss

I wish I could ignore this pull I feel toward him. As much as I want to play the coldhearted lawyer, a small part of me has to admit—I’ve felt drawn to him, too, from the moment our eyes met.

Chapter 6

Chris

Friday comes and the world is still a haze.

Once, my older brother Nate would’ve told me that getting a woman out of my system was what mattered. That I might as well get it over with and move on, because there were more important things in life.

Now…I’m not so sure.

Autumn is in my veins. What happened between us in the car did nothing to erase her.

I smell her everywhere, that vanilla scent that makes my mind go blank, and it doesn’t matter that when she looks at me her face is expressionless.

No one in the office can know about this.

The way she said it…I don’t know why, but it turns my stomach into a nervous knot.

Of course she doesn’t want anyone in the office to know about it. I should want the same thing; I should want to keep this private, especially with my strict history of not dipping my pen into the company ink.

Friday night in Central Park is anything but quiet. Couples and families stroll, buskers are out, food vendors are tucked into corners. I find Grant sitting on a bench on a small hilltop.

“Mr. Miyagi?”

He raises one snow-white brow, which contrasts beautifully with the bright red shirt he has on.

“Very funny, Dr. Faust.”

My smirk only widens at the use of the nickname he gave me years ago. Faust, the man who sold his soul for all the pleasures and knowledge in the world and was still unhappy.

It’s not too far off the mark, although lately it feels like a little flame has been lit within me.

“How was tai chi?”

“Good.” He sounds relaxed and happy as he gazes out across the park. “I’m more agile than I think I was even in my twenties.”

Agility, or lack of it, was part of why Grant decided to retire. In the privacy of his office, he admitted that everything hurt—a stiff back, neck, creaking knees, headaches. It’s the fate I probably have to look forward to in the not so distant future.

As I sit down beside him, not bothering to worry about my creased suit, he asks, “How was the work week? How’s the firm?”

“Good. Everything’s running smooth.”

A part of me longs to tell him how stressed out I’ve been since he left. More stressed out than I was before he left, which I never let on about then, either. Grant is like a father figure to me, and I know it was a hard choice for him to retire and leave everything to me. I don’t want him to feel guilty, not when he seems so content.

He gives me a sidelong look.

“So. Who’s the girl, then?”

Affronted, I turn and stare at him. “What?”

“The girl. The one who’s got you brooding.”

“I am not brooding.”

That’s something my older brother Nate does. Not me. I’m not a brooder.

“You are definitely brooding. And if everything is going as smoothly as you say, then it can only be a woman.”

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