Page 48 of My Forbidden Boss

She propped her wrist at her hip, looking impatient. “No, come on. Just say it.”

I sighed. “I wouldn’t say… Look. Uh… I don’t give a shit about the dress.”

Her eyes widened, waiting for the punchline. Her look was as sharp as a dagger as if to say, ‘Excuse me?’

“I mean… It’s lovely. Just absolutely gorgeous. It’s a… wonderful piece of… fabric… I guess. What I mean is, you are beautiful. And stunning. And amazing. Not just the dress. You can wear sweatpants if you want, I mean… whatever you want or… are comfortable in… is fine with me. It’s, um… You know what I’m trying to say, and you’re just letting me dig my own grave, aren’t you?”

She nodded matter of factly. “Yep. Well, more like dig your way out of one. This dress makes your silly little racecar out there look like a dung beetle. Just saying.”

She paused, letting me suffer without knowing what to say.

Then she smiled. “But thank you, Hollis. I will be sure to tell Brandon that you approved of his selection. I’m sure that will just inflate his ego beyond all repair, so thank you again for that. I’ll never be allowed to pick my own outfit ever again.”

Another pause ensued before she finally brought me to my senses.

“So… Shall we go?”

I jumped to attention. “Oh, right! Great. Uh… right this way! It’s maybe a twenty or twenty-five-minute drive, not too far.”

We stepped outside, and I jogged to the passenger door, opening it wide as Tisha staggered as delicately as she could with her heels in the soft earth. Ultimately, she took them off, walking barefoot and carefree to the car. I watched her slide gracefully into the seat, a flash of her long, smooth legs through the slit of her dress catching my eye.

“Hollis.”

“Hmm? Oh.”

I glanced down to see her playfully staring up at me, waiting for me to realize just how many moments too long I had neglected to close her door.

Walking around to the driver’s side, I felt good but exhaled deeply just before opening my own door. I donned a smile and climbed in, too preoccupied to stop and recognize just how my chest was pounding.

Tisha

“It’s not a date.”

Hollis tilted his head, the wine glass still perched at his lower lip.

“No?”

I shook my head with finality, setting my own glass down on the table.

“No.”

He seemed to contemplate the ultimatum. One could almost see the gears and equations churning through his brain.

“No?”

I could scarcely believe my ears. With pure defiance, I stood my ground.

“No!”

“Hmmm. I hate to disagree, but…”

“Disagree? What is there to disagree about? It isn’t a date! Cut, end scene, wrap it up, pack it away, bury it in the backyard and never speak of it again.”

Hollis looked around, almost looking like he was sorry for sharing my presence with anyone out in public. It was a ridiculous sight, doubly so because there wasn’t another individual that either of us could see or be seen by.

He leaned forward, whispering.

“It’s a date.”

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