Page 88 of A Ticking Time Boss

I raise an eyebrow at her. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure.”

Audrey smiles and shifts closer on the bed. I can see the soft curve of her breasts, her cleavage made deeper by the angle. The stunning view is made even better by her free hand moving over my chest. She traces patterns across the skin. “Thank you,” she says.

“Wait to thank me until after you’ve seen my notes.”

“Think you’ll have many?”

I pretend to consider that. “Probably none, but I can’t let you think I’d go easy on you, so I’ll have to manufacture some. Tell you off for not using an Oxford comma or recommend a stronger synonym.”

Her fingers play with my chest hair. “You always have notes,” she says. “Especially about my place.”

“They’re entirely justified when it comes to your living situation.”

“So bringing a new lock to my place wasn’t heavy-handed?”

“It was,” I say, entirely without remorse. “But it’s to stop heavy-handed people from getting in, you know. Including me. Did you talk to your landlord about installing it on your door?”

“I mentioned it, yeah. I think he pretended not to hear me.”

“Tell him we’ll handle the installation. I can have a guy there within the hour to put it up on your door.”

“You worry too much,” she says.

“You worry too little,” I say.

She smiles and looks down at my chest. Traces her name on my skin. “Something did happen just yesterday, actually.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I know what you’ll say.”

“I promise I’ll say something entirely different. I’ll surprise you, kid.”

She sighs. “I saw a rat in my kitchen.”

“In your kitchen,” I repeat quietly. “So… by your microwave in the corner.”

Her nails dig into my skin. “Be nice. We can’t all be multi-millionaires.”

“But a rat. Did you tell Pierce?”

“He’s not going to do anything about it. But I’ve bought poison.”

I close my eyes. The idea of her in a place like that bothers me more than I’d imagined. It’s like needles beneath my skin, knowing that when I say goodbye to her she’s going back there. Living in a house with two people who are practically strangers, and she can’t even lock her door.

“You’re not saying anything,” she says. “That’s good.”

“I’m trying very hard to respect your independence and not sound like a multi-millionaire,” I say, eyes still closed.

“Excellent!”

“And I’m also considering how it would look if I singled you out in the newsroom for a massive raise.”

Her hand slaps at my chest. “Absolutely not.”

“I know. It would be impossible. Think of the HR nightmare.” I shake my head sadly and capture her hand. “I’ll have to give them all raises.”

“If you had the budget allowances for that, you wouldn’t have made all those buyouts and layoffs.” She shakes her head. “No, you’ll just have to endure me living in a place fit for my budget.”

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