Page 3 of Three Rugged Bosses and a Clueless Girl

If Michelle didn’t find a job and get a loan from the bank, she wouldn’t even be able to give life the middle finger because she wouldn’t have any fingers.

Panic swirled around her, and she made those weird whimpering sounds again, which had everyone looking at her this time, including Marc with his stormy sea-green eyes, Jake with his golden orbs, and Evan with his cool blues.

She pretended like nothing happened and that a strange sound hadn’t come from her mouth.

Great.

What was she going to do? She stewed in her thoughts again as the conversation resumed. And then her ears latched onto something.

“I can’t believe Grace just left JKS like that to get married, of all things. What are you going to do without her? She’s irreplaceable, man,” Frank said, shaking his head.

“Grace is getting married?” Stella asked in shock. “How old is she anyway? Seventy?”

“Seventy-five,” Jake offered.

"Well, good for her,” Stella said, raising her glass. “And of course, you’ll find someone else. No one is irreplaceable, Frank, as they say.”

Michelle swallowed the little bit of mac and cheese left in her mouth, her mind doing cartwheels, before she righted herself. Suddenly, she was doing equations like a rocket scientist in her head instead.

A job. A loan from a reputable institute. Her fingers intact. A second chance.

She bit her lip, her gaze vacillating from Marc to Jake to Evan.

This was it. Her universe had handed her the solution. And she had to come to Melissa’s barbecue pool party in a granny dress, with some sort of tribal war paint on her face, courtesy of her niece, to receive it from her brother’s best friends.

Chapter Three

Michelle shimmied her skirt down as low as it could go and straightened her jacket. She had to reach into the far back end of her closet for the outfit, but it was the only one that would do. Her usual attire was more casual; her style was more long floral skirts and tank tops and pretty dresses with lace collars.

Now, she wore a pale pink skirt that reached just above her knees—maybe a tad too tight, but it still looked very professional—a somewhat loose white sleeveless chiffon blouse that she tucked into the waistband of the skirt, and a black no-nonsense blazer.

She could have done without the pencil-thin heels currently murdering her toes, but they were the only pair of formal shoes she owned, and they happened to be four inches high.

She decided the already crippling pain in her feet would serve as a great reminder of why she had to wear these killer shoes, which would force her to do everything she needed to do to get what she wanted.

She added mascara to her normal makeup regime, which was just a little blush and lipstick. She had curled her hair the night before, so it hung down her back in pretty beach waves. She then used a pink hair clip to pin one side of her hair down. There, she looked approachable and pleasant but businesslike and capable.

Fuck my life.

She grabbed her tote, where she had already stored her peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a bottle of water. She got into her car, which she hadn't used in just about forever. It was her mother's car and all she had inherited from her parents.

She prayed it would start, and when it did, she decided her stars were definitely aligned, her universe was behaving, and everything was going to be peachy fine.

Finding the new construction site offices for JKS—also known as Johnson, Knight, and Saunders—was easy enough. They were in the process of constructing a new luxury hotel for a billionaire mogul, which, when completed, would likely stretch to the horizon.

The only place she could park her car was a block away, but that was all right. She could breathe in the fresh air and refresh her mind. When she came upon the site and was not able to find an entrance, she dove under a heavy red metal chain and pointedly ignored the ‘No Entry’ sign. How else was she supposed to get in?

The bustling site was loud and dusty, and the cacophony of activity by men in protective headgear and the sound of drilling deafened her and messed with her balance as she trudged through the uneven, gravelly paths toward a metal-paneled office.

She was barely aware of the interest she garnered as she carefully stumbled around a maze of sky-high cranes, jutting steel beams, and other massive pieces of equipment she couldn’t name.

She ignored them as she recited her opening speech, but her universe was back on her side, so she envisioned Marc, Jake, and Evan welcoming her with open arms, thrilled that she had decided to work for them and that no one else in the world would do except her.

That was how it was going to go down. Perfect. Perfect. Perf—

Moments before a piece of scaffolding crashed to the ground behind her, she felt her entire body crushed against a rock-hard chest, bringing her manifestation mantra to an abrupt halt.

Oh. She would have been crushed.

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