Page 13 of The Perfect Putt

Ellie sighs and tucks a red curl behind her ear. “It’s not so bad.”

She types something in a word document, then clicks back to my inbox. It’s been a little over half an hour of going through my inbox together. The process has been monotonous to say the least. She’s categorized my inbox on her own, but we have to go over how I want her to reply. For each category, we click on a few emails so that she can gather an idea of how to respond on my behalf.

“You’re only saying that because I’m your boss, aren’t you?” Her pink lips quirk up at the edges in a wry smirk, but she says nothing.

“How about this one?” she asks, clicking on an email from a magazine asking for an interview. It’s dated six months ago.

“I’m sure it’s too late to respond now.” Not that I’d want to, but I know Brock is always hounding me about staying in good standing with the press.

“It’s an example.” Her tone tips over the line of professional into sassy, making me smile.

“You hate this just as much as I do, don’t you?” I prod her again.

She shifts on the couch next to me. We sat down in the living room after I got my post-workout shower. You’d think a whole cushion of distance between us would be enough, but no. She’s still close enough for her every movement to draw my eye. And once she’s stolen my attention, I’m brought back to the image of her warm brown eyes locked on mine in the kitchen. Tension wound between us tight. I’ve tried to banish the image, but it’s easier said than done with her right here.

“Miles,” she says my name as if scolding me. My grin widens.

“Tell me the truth and I’ll answer you.” I shouldn’t tease her. I should answer her questions as efficiently as possible, then put distance between us. But teasing her has been the most fun I’ve had in quite some time. As long as I don’t let it go too far, everything will be fine. We can be friends while she works for me, just like Fitz and Brock are my friends.

She looks at me and huffs. “Of course this is terrible. It’s boring and tedious and seems as though it will never end. Mainly because the man who hasn’t checked his email in months also insists on slowing the process down.” She pauses, regret sliding over her features. Her face begins to turn scarlet. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m s–”

I cut her off with a laugh. “Lighten up, Red, I was teasing you. I wanted to get a rise out of you.”

“Calling the redhead Red,” she says, her tone dry. “How original.”

“It’s not because of your hair,” I reply with a smirk.

Her blush deepens a shade, but her voice is level when she speaks again. “We need to focus. Though I suppose you don’t do anything all day, so I guess it doesn’t matter how long we take.”

I laugh. “I’m busier than you think.” I gesture to the screen. “As for this, you can forward the bigger publications’ emails to Brock for him to handle. And if they’re on the smaller side, just make a judgment call about whether it’s worth my time.”

She raises a brow. “You trust me to make that decision?”

“Should I not?”

She presses her lips together. “Touché.”

“Okay, what’s next, Red?” She shakes her head at the nickname.

“There’s only one more category.” As soon as she opens the folder my stomach drops. “Emails from Winona Day.”

“My mother,” I clarify in a quiet voice.

“Ah.” Ellie shifts again, then clears her throat. “I tried not to pry too much once I realized the emails were more personal. Should I just save them for you to reply to? I can notify you when they come through.”

I shake my head. “No, just respond with something generic. Tell her you’re my assistant and that I can’t respond at the moment, but I’ll call when I get a chance. She should stop once she realizes I’m not the one reading them.”

“Okay, I can do that.” She opens up her document and types out what I said. Seeing the words on the screen makes me feel like there’s a weight on my chest. Suddenly my skin feels too tight and my living room too small.

I spring up from the couch. “I need to go. If you need anything else, just make a note of it and we can discuss it later.”

“Oh–um–okay.” She looks up at me, her brows threaded together in confusion.

“You can work on getting acclimated to the scheduling system and then you can be done for today.”

I don’t wait for her to respond before I walk out of the living room. I go out the garage door, but I don’t get in any of my cars. Instead, I walk out and around my house to the boardwalk that leads to the stretch of secluded beach that is my backyard. Being by the ocean will bring me peace, it always does.

I’m rinsing my feet off using the outdoor shower below my deck when my phone starts to buzz in my pocket. I pull it out and see Shaw’s name on my screen.

---