Page 69 of My Not So Wicked Boss (My Not So Wicked 3)

Marlowe rolled her gorgeous ice blue eyes at the man. Bobby Jay must have found it endearing. He pulled her to him and wrapped her up in his big burly arms. He whispered something in her ear that made her playfully smack him. Then before we knew it, he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. “Shelby, Marlowe’s shift is over, we have some making up to do.”

Several women in the store started clapping as he carried her off like a Neanderthal.

I wrapped my arm around Chloe. “Don’t settle for anything less than that.”Chapter Twenty-Six“Did you find a dress, Chloe?” Miles asked while we all sat down to a traditional English roast beef dinner, complete with roasted potatoes and Yorkshire pudding. What Miles meant when he offered to make dinner was that his chef would be preparing the feast before us that smelled divine.

Chloe poked her Yorkshire pudding, trying to figure out why pudding looked like a puffed piece of bread. “I did. It’s so pretty.”

It really was. She ended up picking out a handcrafted lace dress in deep rose.

“Mom even let me get some heels.”

It was a rite of passage for every girl. One I had been hoping to hold off on. Heels meant she wasn’t my little girl anymore.

Miles gave me a knowing grin that I didn’t return. Why did he have to know me well enough to know how hard it was for me to watch Chloe take another step into womanhood? And why did I want to cry on his shoulder about it? He was my boss and I needed to treat him that way. I was going to forget that his kiss had disintegrated the barriers protecting my heart, leaving me feeling emotionally raw. It wasn’t real. I don’t think I was meant for real.

Miles narrowed his eyes when I didn’t return his look in kind. I wanted to, but I focused on Chloe and Henry. More than anything, I needed to keep it professional for their sakes. Chloe needed me to have this job and maybe it was a grand delusion, but I thought Henry needed me too. My sweet Henry, who was purposefully not eating his peas but licking the gravy off his hand until he got every last drop. If I could have gotten away with it, I would have dunked my hands in the gravy bowl and licked them off too. I wanted to know what that chef laced it with. Whatever it was, I was going to get a bottle and do shots with it.

“Miles,” Chloe tucked some hair behind her ear, “do you think you could help me with my research paper about War of the Roses? I read that one of the books you wrote was a modern-day retelling of it.”

Miles looked absolutely delighted.

Me, not so much. We couldn’t afford entangling ourselves further with the man. I couldn’t have more reasons to want to give him my heart. Though A Rose for Every Season was a brilliant book—it was probably my second favorite of his—we didn’t need his insights. “Honey, Miles is very busy right now. I can help you,” I answered before Miles could get a word in.

Miles dropped his fork and knife but recovered them quickly.

Chloe sighed. “Oh, okay. It’s just, I told my teacher I wanted that topic because we were friends with you, and she thought that was really neat because she’s read all your books.”

“Your mum has been misinformed.” Miles gave me a closed-lipped smile. “It’s actually she who will be busy. I need her to go over my manuscript before I continue. While she does that, I would be honored to help you.”

Oh. He. Was. Good. He knew how bad I wanted to get my hands on that manuscript.

Miles’s eyes said, what else do you got?

Chloe clapped her hands together. “Thank you! Thank you! You’re the best.”

Crap. What could I say after that? Not a thing. At least not then.

After dinner and putting Henry to bed, I met Miles in his office while Chloe was setting up our laptop and her notes downstairs. He had printed out a copy of his manuscript because he didn’t want digital copies of it floating around. That and I think he wanted a moment alone to talk.

I waited by his door, leaning against the frame.

He stared at me from his desk.

I tried keeping my eyes on my bare feet. Note to self, get some moisturizer on them stat and paint the toenails.

“Aspen, have I done something to upset you?”

Was he kidding? Yes, he had done something. He woke up the freaking giant living in my soul and she was confused. She didn’t know whether she should be seeking emotional intimacy or burying herself under the hundred different defense mechanisms she had created over the years.

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