Page 5 of Kissing the Boss
Silence stretches between us, broken only by the clang of tools from the garage and Dale's off-key singing along to Boston.
"I should get to work," she says quietly.
"Right. Yeah." I grab my mug and head for the door. "I'll be in bay two if you need anything. Work-related."
"Jonathan?"
I pause without turning. "Yeah?"
"Your handwriting is terrible. I'm going to need a decoder ring for some of these invoices."
Despite everything, I smile. "Third drawer down. Left side."
"Seriously?"
"No, but Mike out there speaks fluent chicken scratch. He can translate."
Her laugh follows me into the garage, warm and bright and dangerous as hell.
I bury myself in work, replacing brake pads on a sedan with more focus than the job requires. But I can't stop my awareness of Cassandra in the office. Every time she laughs at something Mike says, every time she walks past the window, every time I catch that hint of cinnamon in the air, my concentration shatters.
"You're gonna strip those bolts if you keep at it," Dale observes from the next bay.
I ease up on the wrench. "Mind your own work."
"Just saying. You've been attacking that brake assembly like it owes you money." He grins. "Wouldn't have anything to do with the pretty new bookkeeper, would it?"
"She's an employee. That's it."
"Uh-huh." Dale doesn't even try to hide his skepticism. "That why you've checked the office window twelve times in the last hour?"
"I haven't—" I catch myself looking again and scowl. "Don't you have work to do?"
"Sure do. But watching you pretend you're not attracted to sunshine girl in there is way more entertaining."
I throw a grease rag at him. He dodges, laughing.
The morning crawls by. Every time I need something from the office, she's there. Smiling. Humming. Making my space feel warm and lived-in instead of just functional.
I'm contemplating hiding in the supply closet when Tucker Hughes strolls in, carrying a box from his brewery.
"Festival beer delivery," he announces, setting the box on my workbench. "Where do you want it?"
"Storage room." I wipe my hands on a rag. "I'll show you."
"In a minute." His eyes fix on the office window where Cassandra is visible, bent over the filing cabinet. "First, tell me about her."
"New bookkeeper. Started today."
"And?"
"And nothing."
Tucker grins, all easy charm and trouble. "Nothing, huh? Then you won't mind if I introduce myself."
He's already moving toward the office before I can stop him. I follow, jaw tight, telling myself I'm not jealous. I'm just... protective.
Of my employee. In a professional capacity,of course.
