Page 16 of Sending Nudes to My Boss

“Next time,” I promise.

“Maybe for a Valentine’s Day shoot?” she wonders, looking around the studio.

I try not to get too excited, but I can’t help it. Amy just finished one shoot, and she’s already wanting to schedule another? That’s amazing. If I could just get a little bit more business, I could make a full-time thing out of this.

“Thank you again,” Amy says after getting dressed. We’re standing by the door, preparing to lock up and go. “I…really needed this.”

“I did too,” I say honestly. “Now, go home and give your husband a strip tease! He wants to see you, Amy. Give him a show!”

“Ha. I’ll do my best!”

I wave goodbye and watch her walk to her car. As she gets into her car, another pulls into the mostly empty parking lot. I recognize it immediately as William’s.

“Shit,” I mutter, ducking back inside the studio and closing the door. I watch him through the window. Of course, he knows exactly where to find me…a minute later, he’s knocking on thedoor. Or maybepoundingon the door would be a more apt description.

“Let me in, Dorothy,” he shouts.

My original plan was to pretend I wasn’t in here. But him using my dumb government name sets me off.

“Don’t you dare call me Dorothy!” I snap, unable to help myself.

“Then let me in!” he growls, banging on the door with his fist again.

“Fine!”

I unlock the door and swing it open, glaring at him.

“What?”

“You’re not quitting.”

“Texas is an at-will employment state. I can quit whenever I want.”

“I know the law, thanks.”

I roll my eyes, retreating to the kitchen where there’s still a bit of coffee in the pot from earlier when Amy and I shared some. I pour myself a lukewarm cup, only to have something to do and some excuse to turn away from William.

Must. Not. Look. Directly. At. Him.

He’s too beautiful. And now I know exactly what’s been hiding underneath those professional clothes. I know the outline of his abs , the color of his nipples, and exactly how thick his male appendage is.

Things you shouldn’t know about your boss, in other words.

“How did you know where I’d be?” I ask him.

“You told me about your photography business when you explained what happened at the bar, remember? All I had to do was Google it and this studio location popped up,” he says. “By the way, did you know someone is leaving fake one-star reviews on your business page? There’s dozens.”

I groan, turning around but careful not to lift my eyes to his. I’m not sure what will happen if I allow myself to look into those pale blue eyes right now but I’m pretty sure it involves crying.

“Heather,” I mutter. “She’s been doing that for months.”

“Heather? As in the same woman who is pressing charges against you for the other night?”

“That’s the one.”

William paces, something he tends to do when he thinks. Then he pulls out his phone and hammers out a message to somebody before putting it back in his pocket.

I don’t know what that was all about. But when he turns back to me, I do it. I make the mistake of looking directly at him and oh, was it a mistake.

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