Page 5 of Secret Bump

He nods. “I can see that. Did you ever think about becoming a librarian? Business research seems like a significant shift in focus.”

“I love books! But the library doesn’t hire that many people, and the only used bookstore in town shut a few years ago. I always wanted to work there.” I shrug. “Besides, it’s time for me to grow up and get a real job.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Is that you thinking that, or someone else?”

I hesitate.

His expression softens. “I won’t tell anyone, Isabelle. I just want to fully understand what you need.”

“It was brutally honest advice I received from someone.” I wince. “My uncle. He was my guardian. I lived with him until I was eighteen.”

“And now?” Mr. Emerson leans forward. “Where do you live now?”

“I have a room on the other side of town. If I got this job, I could afford to get my own apartment.”

“We have apartments for new hires who come in from out of town. You can stay there.” He presses a button on his phone. “Welcome to the company, Ms. Bright.”

I gape at him for a moment, stunned. “Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious.” His expression backs that up, although it is also faintly amused. But at least he doesn’t look offended.

I clap my hands together and kick my feet. “Oh my God, thank you, sir. You won’t regret this. I’ll be the best research assistant you’ve ever had.”

“I have no doubt.” He smiles softly.

I smile back, then look down at my hands. Up at his desk. Anything but holding that eye contact that feels complicated.

Probably for the best that it’s so foreign to me, I can’t label it. I wouldn’t want to blurt it out in my first week on the job.

“I’ll do my best to be a good boss to you, as well,” he adds after a bit. “That’s not been my forte in the past, to be honest.”

His admission sounds raw.

My attention flies to his face, and I realize with a flush that I’d been looking at his body. He’s a magnificent presence behind his desk, big and burly, his tailored suit barely containing his overwhelming essence.

But part of being a good assistant is going to be ignoring how hot my boss is, so I’m starting that right now.

“Honesty is a virtue,” I remind him. “Someone very powerful recently told me that.”

He laughs, but then his phone rings, and he answers it the same way he does everything else: gruffly. He listens for a minute, then says, “As quick as you can, then.”

After he sets the handset down, he explains the person who will complete my intake with HR is currently in another meeting.

“I need to make a phone call,” he adds.

I twist and look at the door. “Would you like to me to wait out there?”

He makes a choking sound, and when I turn back, his gaze is locked on the hem of my kilt. “No, you can wait here. It would be good if you…for you to…”

“Familiarize myself with your business?” I prompt.

He nods curtly. “Exactly.”

Heat spools low in my belly as he begins his call. His voice is confident, a rich burr I could listen to all day.

And I’ll get to. I have to pinch myself. This doesn’t feel real yet.

I smooth my hands over the pleats of my skirt, adjusting the hem as we wait, as he talks, as I listen.