Page 2 of My Bossy Valentine

The last year has been tough. I lost my job, my car, my apartment, and someone I thought was a friend. My grandmother’s offer for me to move to Hope Peak for a few months seemed like a blessing. I’d have a place to stay, money coming in, and time to focus on my dream of becoming an author. All I had to do was keep Spencer Sullivan happy and her cat fed.

Grabbing the blueberry muffin off my desk, I stuff it in the mini refrigerator to have for lunch later. At least Oscar likes me. Having a sweet, furry little face to come home to every night makes everything better.

I steal a glance at the closed office door.

Well, almost everything.

I hear his cell phone ring, then his deep voice when he answers the call. A tingle of awareness moves through me, making me ache. I need to move on. He will never see me as anything other than his annoying temporary secretary. I deserve more.

Chapter Two

Spencer

Avery snaps the doorclosed, her footsteps muffled by the carpet as she returns to her desk. It's been a shitty morning, and I haven't had enough coffee. I wasn’t trying to group her in with the irritating people I usually deal with. If anything, I’m annoyed with myself for anticipating her usual morning chatter. I could care less who the barista is dating or what cat videos Oscar prefers. It’s the way her sapphire eyes shine as she talks and she bounces on her toes when she’s excited. Her light laugh and the way her nose scrunches when I frown. I shouldn’t find it adorable. That I do pisses me off.

Reaching for my cup, I debate going out to apologize. I never had to with Dottie. The older woman never took my shit. If I was out of line, she'd scold me like a child, never mind that I could fire her. We found a way to work without bickering andeverything went smoothly until she sprung this trip around the world on me. I worried that she was becoming forgetful. How could she not tell me about plans to take almost four months off? I should have known better. She'd booked the cruise with her senior center friends but waited to tell me until after she’d hired her granddaughter as a temp replacement. She said it was to soften the blow. I suspect it was because she knew I’d be pissed and removed any objections she thought I’d have.

Despite my irritation, I let her go on the cruise. Of course I did. I may be an asshole at times, but I’m not going to deny an old lady some happiness in her last years, even if it does put me in a bind. At least she saved me the hassle of finding someone to fill in.

Dottie is part sweet, cookie-baking grandma, part matchmaker, and part battleax. I wasn't sure what to expect of her granddaughter.

Whatever I had imagined, it wasn't Avery. Fuck, I had to double check her paperwork because I thought she was underage. She showed up wearing a white sweater over a flippy little skirt and tights. I prefer older women, but holy hell, the first time she called me “Sir” I had some very inappropriate fantasies of her wearing a barely there schoolgirl uniform while I took her over my knee.

I locked myself in my office, afraid of what I'd do when I saw her again. I’ve spent every day since trying to keep her at a distance, even going so far as to email my fucking instructions for the day. But every morning, she greets me with the same sweet smile, a cup of coffee fixed exactly how I like it, and something for breakfast from the little coffee shop in town. She chatters away, filling the silence, while I suck down some coffee and try to kick start my brain. It’s become our normal routine. Except I cut her off today and sent her scurrying away, believing she annoys me.

Fuck. I better apologize. After I get myself under control.

Today, she looks like a naughty librarian with her tight skirt, glasses, and silky blouse. The skirt is the same blue as her glasses and the streaks in her raven hair, which she's twisted up into two little buns. I want to unpin them and run my fingers through the strands to see if they’re as soft as they appear. Find out if that sweet floral scent comes from a bottle or her skin. Would she ever allow me that close?

Sometimes I catch her watching me. At first, I paid no attention, but as weeks have passed, I find myself shamelessly wishing for more.

At twenty-three, she's almost half my age. I shouldn’t wantmore. I'm already going to hell for all the fantasies I've had about this woman. And it's not only because she’s gorgeous. She's charmed all my clients, cleaned and organized the office, making it far more efficient, and brightened this work trailer with her smile. I think most of my crew is in love with her. Even some of the married guys come in a little more often than necessary. Something inside her draws people like a magnet. Drawsme.

I thought I’d learned my lesson about falling for the wrong woman with my ex-fiancé. This obsession has to stop.

My phone rings, breaking me out of my thoughts on Avery. Has it been an hour since I arrived? Jesus Christ. This is why I hole up in here away from her. I'm not getting any work done.

I take the call from my foreman and arrange to meet him outside to go over the plans for the master bedroom. I’m about to leave my office when I hear Avery’s angry voice through the thin walls.

“You can't do this to me.”

My stomach knots. Who the fuck is bothering my assistant? Whoever it is, they'll answer to me. Throwing open the door between our offices, I… don’t see anyone.

Avery spins her chair toward me, eyes rounding behind her glasses. She's gripping her cell phone until her knuckles are white. I march to her desk, ready to grab the phone and give the person on the line hell.

“He's right here, Grandma,” Avery says, halting my anger mid-steam. “No, I think we should talk more about… fine. Here he is.”

She thrusts the phone at me, a mutinous glare in her eyes. This might be the first frown I've seen from Avery. It's all wrong, and I want to tear into Dottie for whatever she said to upset her granddaughter.

“Dottie?”

“Spencer! Just the person I wanted to talk to.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“Keep your voice down. You’ll wake Barbara. It’s four in the morning here, you know.”

I pull the phone away from my face to stare at it. Is the woman mad?

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