Page 1 of Misadventures With My Billionaire Boss

1

I was late. The clock on the dash of my Subaru wagon read ten after. But this was Montana, and no one was in a rush in Montana. Especially after a foot of snow had fallen overnight, leaving the roads covered. Most side roads had yet to be plowed. But Main Street was getting another pass. I knew this because I was stuck behind one of those behemoth dump trucks with the big plow on the front, snow shooting off to the side of the road about fifteen feet in the air.

Pedestrians and parked cars beware. With blinking yellow lights on the roof, chained tires and sand being spread from the back bed like corn to chickens, it was best to give it plenty of room regardless of my tight schedule. Violet didn't really care, but I only had so much time over lunch. I had to get a job to the printer before the end of the day.

It hadn't warmed much; my side windows had fogged up once the heat kicked on. I was so bundled up I felt like the Abominable Snowman, but at least I wasn't cold. Holiday music piped from the car stereo, and I absently hummed along to the seasonal tunes. Outside my window it was like a winter wonderland. The vintage holiday lights, each a different color,stretched across Main from one side of the street to the other at every intersection. Santa had personally come and lit them the first Saturday of the month as part of the annual Christmas Stroll. Practically everyone in town had come out for the evening event, the road closed to cars, the shops open late for holiday gifts and hot chocolate.

The snow plows, for whatever reason, never plowed the very center of the street, leaving a three-foot-tall berm of snow like a concrete highway divider, broken only at the cross streets. There was no jaywalking in the dead of winter in Bozeman. Neither was there very good parking as the snow plows pushed the snow right into the curbside parking spots.

I carefully edged around the snow berm and took a left on Willson to pull up in front of Goldilocks, my final destination, lucky to find a spot right out front. I carefully parallel parked, my back-right wheel elevated on a patch of snow.

Dashing to the store as fast—and as carefully—as I could considering the treacherous sidewalk conditions and my large, clunky winter boots, I was relieved to feel the blast of heat against my stinging cheeks once the door closed behind me.

“MeMe Hardy. It's been too long!” Goldie called to me as I stomped my boots. She was the owner of Goldilocks, the local, and only, adult store in town. She'd opened it well before I was born, and it was practically a historic landmark, although I was sure Goldie wouldn't appreciate that description. It sold anything and everything sex related, from condoms to crotchless panties to fingertip vibrators. Even in a town of less than thirty thousand, business boomed.

I winced at the childhood nickname. When I turned eighteen and went away to college in California, I’d been able to shed that moniker and take on my given name, Emma. But there were a few die-hards in town still who remembered me when I was three and couldn't say my own name right. I'd been back in townsix years and was pushing thirty, but I'd still be MeMe to some. My mother, my aunt Sissy, a silly name in its own right, and Goldie.

“Sorry I'm late,” I tell Goldie and Violet, both behind the counter, piles of what looked like lingerie spread out before them. I pulled my knit cap from my head and tucked my blonde hair behind my ears, taming the static out of it.

My friend Violet looked at me, trying not to laugh, and mouthed, “MeMe?”

I rolled my eyes at her. “I got stuck behind a snow plow.”

Goldie nodded as she took her glasses off her nose and let them dangle over her ample bosom by a sparkly, rhinestone covered chain about her neck. “That's the safest place to be on a day like this. What can I get for you today?” Goldie’s gaze scanned me head to toe as if by looking at me she could guess just what I needed for sexy times. “A new bra.”

Oh, great. She could see gravity setting in through my heavy winter coat.

She rubbed her chin. “No, you're here for a vibrator.”

I could feel my cheeks heat at her words, but I couldn't help but chuckle. “Nope,” I answered as I shook my head, leaving her hanging. Talking vibrators with Goldie, who was friendly with my mom, was just about as bad as talking about it with my mom herself. Not that the vibrator in my bedside stand couldn't use an update, or at least new batteries, but I wasn't planning on telling her that.

“No vibrator for me today, Goldie. Thanks though.” I smiled brightly.

“Well, just give me a call when you're ready, and I'll pick out a top-of-the-line model for you. You know”—she waggled her eyebrows and twirled her finger in the air—“the one that has that spinning middle.”

My mouth fell open at the thought. I wasn't sure if I should be mortified or intrigued at the very idea.

The thing about Goldie? Everyone in town knew her and knew no topic of conversation was off the table. Most people probably hid behind a display of canned corn in the supermarket to avoid her if they didn't want to get details about their love life pulled out of them like a dentist yanking a bad tooth.

She was in her early seventies, a local fixture who knew the sexual proclivities of practically everyone in town over the age of eighteen, and was a pistol. She had unapologetically big, poofy blonde hair which was currently pulled back from her face by a red velvet headband. She wore a matching bright red sweater and earrings that were dangling sleigh bells. She was definitely in the holiday spirit. The Mrs. Claus look certainly helped with that.

“No vibrator? You must have a hot date and you need some condoms. Smart girl, being safe like that.” She reached into the plastic container on the counter of singly wrapped condoms she threw in for free with every purchase.

“No hot date,” I grumbled, holding up my hand to slow her roll. “Last one was eons ago.”

“Oh.” She put the handful of foil packets she'd grabbed back, her idea of a hot date a little more adventurous than most with that many condoms, but kept one out. “Here. For your purse.”

I walked up to her and took the offering, knowing you never turned down a breath mint or a condom. “Thanks,” I said, tucking it into the zippered part of my bag.

“She's here to meet me. We're going out for lunch,” Violet said as she grabbed her coat and bag from a hook on the wall and made her way around the counter. Slim and attractive, Violet always dressed stylishly, even for such a frigid day, when you just wanted to be bundled up in cozy sweats.

We'd been friends since the summer I'd come back from college. She was filling in for her identical twin sister, Veronica, a longtime employee at Goldilocks. If not for style difference in wardrobe, I wouldn't be able to tell them apart. Veronica was off in Jackson Hole with her boyfriend to ski, if I remembered correctly.

Violet had told me over the phone she wasn't too keen on taking a shift for Veronica, working in an adult store not quite her thing—she was a first-grade teacher—but she'd said she didn't have too much choice. She hadn't given me the details, but something had happened and Violet was indebted to her sister, often saying yes to tasks she would rather avoid, tasks she had avoided in the past.

Like spending tons of time with Goldie. Not that Violet didn't like Goldie,everyoneliked Goldie. They had to as she could blackmail the pants off everyone in the entire town. But if the woman could pick out the fact I needed a vibrator upgrade just by looking at me, who knew what she'd discover if I worked next to her for a few hours.

“That's nice, dear. So spill, MeMe, about this hot date from eons ago.”

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