Page 5 of Employing Patience

Amelia has textbooks to buy.

I promised myself my sisters would make it through college.

They’re my focus.

Don’t be selfish.

Some of the thoughts are beyond stupid, but they all hold weight. It’s why I’m almost thirty-two and don’t have a high school diploma. Even if I lied and said I did in order to get this job.

I turn to go back inside and almost run headfirst into my boss.

“Shit, sorry.” I stumble back a step, thrown off by his sudden appearance. And like that day in his office, something stirs deep in my gut.

Art doesn’t move, just folds those perfectly sculpted arms over his chest. “It’s not clock-off time.” His voice wraps around me. “What are you doing?”

I tilt my head. “You know what time I clock off?”

“I make the schedule.”

“And memorize it, apparently.”

He shrugs in a way that looks elegant and effortless all at once. “It’s called duty of care.”

“Funny. You don’t seem to care much any other day.”

“I care every day.”

“I haven’t seen you here once.”

His lips pull up in the corners. “Almost sounds like you’ve been looking for me.”

“Duh. How else will I know when to slack off?”

His dark-rimmed eyes narrow. “That’s not your style.”

“Says who?”

“Says my security cameras.”

Interesting … I can’t help the next words out of my mouth. “Is that what you do in your office all night?”

“Among other things.”

“Things or men?”

His smile grows. “You really have been looking for me.”

Shit. I can’t even deny it because then I’ll sound stupid. I try for a shrug like his instead, but I wind up feeling like a moody teenager. “I forget you exist most of the time, honestly. Like an old man locked away in the attic.”

“Is that any way to talk to your boss?”

“Nah.” I wink. “But I think you like it.” Just like that day in his office, I’m a bit out of control of my own body. Art hasn’t made a secret of the fact he finds me attractive, and … I kinda like it.

When his dark eyes slither over my body, I almost shiver.

“What are you doing out here, Joey?” he asks, voice darkly seductive.

A thought hits me. “How did you know I was here?”

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