Page 27 of The Boss's Hideaway Baby

“Really?” I ask, amused. “You don’t strike me as a mobster movie kind of guy.”

“Hey, it’s a classic,” he defends with a sheepish grin.

“Fair enough,” I concede, chuckling. “What about your favorite book?”

“Uh, To Kill a Mockingbird,” he replies after a moment’s thought.

“Ah, Atticus Finch,” I muse, sliding the eggs onto a plate and setting it on the small kitchen table. “A man of principles and integrity. I can see why you’d like him.”

“Enough about me.” He brings the toast over to the table. “What about you? Favorite movie?”

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” I feel the blush spreading across my cheeks. “I know it’s a cliché, but Audrey Hepburn is just so lovely.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” He pours coffee into two mugs. “And your favorite book?”

“Jane Eyre,” I reply without hesitation. “Her strength and resilience have always inspired me.”

We sit down at the table, breakfast steaming before us, and for a little while, we simply enjoy each other’s company. The worries plaguing Nathan seem to recede as our conversation flows, and I can’t help but hope that this time together will help him find some balance in his life — between work and safety, control and trust.

“Your eggs are getting cold,” Nathan teases, pulling me back to the present.

“Right,” I laugh, picking up my fork. “Can’t let that happen.”

As we eat, I begin to think that, despite the circumstances that brought us here, maybe something good can come from this unexpected escape. After all, every now and then, life has a way of surprising us with small moments of happiness in the midst of chaos.

“Hey, Nathan,” I suggest as we finish our breakfast, “why don’t we clean up the house a bit? No one’s spent much time here in years, and it’ll help take your mind off things.”

He looks around, taking in the slightly dusty surfaces and the clutter of long-forgotten items. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

We start by wiping down the countertops and doing the dishes, Nathan wearing a plaid shirt and jeans that I’ve retrieved from the closet. It’s endearing to see him attempt something so domestic, so unlike the billionaire CEO he is.

“Okay, how do you work this mop?” He holds up the tool like it’s an alien object. I stifle a laugh. He has to be joking.

Except he isn’t. He genuinely looks stumped.

“First, fill the bucket with water and just a bit of soap.”

Nathan nods, but as he pours the liquid detergent into the mop bucket, he goes a little overboard. Bubbles soon overflow onto the wooden floor.

“Oops,” he says sheepishly. “Got a bit carried away there.”

“No worries,” I chuckle, watching the sudsy mess grow. “Let’s just mop it up quickly.”

As we both set to work, sloshing the bubbly water across the floor, the slippery surface catches us off guard. Our feet slide out from under us, and I reach out to Nathan, trying to grab hold of something to keep me up.

“I’m falling too!” he yelps, right before we both come crashing down onto the wet floor.

“Are you okay?” Nathan laughs out loud.

“Yeah.” I can’t stop myself from laughing as well. “You’re only supposed to put about a teaspoon in.”

“Well, I didn’t know,” he chuckles, his face red. “I’ve never mopped a floor before.”

“Clearly.”

It’s silly, but I can’t remember ever having this much fun. A part of me wishes we could stay in this cabin forever. But of course, I don’t say that out loud.

“You sure you’re okay?” Nathan asks between laughs, propping himself up on one elbow.

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