Page 30 of Merry with Me

“They’re working you too hard.” He furrows his brow, as if my work schedule irritates him.

“I can handle it, just as I’ve assured my boss. My boss, Hilary,” I say to remind him he’s not my boss—thankfully. Daydreaming about kissing your boss is definitely not good. Grounds for termination for sure, but I’m in the clear. Oliver isn’t my boss, and there isn’t a no-fraternization policy unless it’s direct reports. I might have checked yesterday while on my lunch. I needed some light reading, and that’s the story I’m sticking to.

“I’ll go with you.”

From the look on his face, he’s not in love with the idea.

“That’s not necessary. Jerry and I have had several after-hours meetings.”

“We’ll go to dinner first,” he announces, as if his word is the gospel.

“I’ll probably just work until it’s time to meet with Jerry.” I’m just being a brat now, but I’m not going to let this man, no matter how sexy his arm porn and growly voice are, walk all over me. “You don’t like Christmas. Why would you want to be there for this?” I’m goading him again.

“I’ll be there. We will have dinner first. You can’t eat that late.”

“It’s not going to kill me to eat a late dinner.”

“I’ll be ready to go at five.”

I want to stomp my foot and argue, but there’s a larger part of me that wants to have dinner with him. “You’re buying.” This time, I’m the one crossing my arms over my chest and scowling at him.

“Like I would let you pay,” he scoffs.

“I can afford to buy my own meal, thank you very much.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m paying.”

This man.

“I changed my mind. Only if I can pay.”

“Not happening, baby,” he says.

Baby.

Wow. Normally, I’d be rolling my eyes at the term, but not when it comes from this man. “Take it or leave it.” I hold his stare.

“Fine. Five o’clock. My office.” He’s not looking away, and neither am I.

“I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” I’m being stubborn, but I don’t care. I’m not a puppet.

“Fine,” he says, but his tone says it’s not fine. “You text me when you head out to your car, so you’re not waiting on me.” He sits back, crossing his arms to mimic me, and gives me a smug grin.

I roll my eyes. “Are you one of those?”

“One of those what?”

“One of those people who always has to have the final say? The last word in every conversation or argument?”

“No. But with this, yes. I don’t want you waiting out in the cold.”

“Then we could just cancel dinner.”

“Blake.”

I love how he shortens my name. He leans in close, and my eyes once again go to his kissable lips. Damn, they really do look soft. “Ollie.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a grin. “Only you,” he says, almost affectionately. “Text me when you head out, and I’ll be right behind you. Deal?”

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