Page 6 of Dad Bod Undercover Boss

My heart thuds and my stomach swoops as the contact thrums through my bloodstream like liquid fire.

I love working with Max. He’s positive and motivated, and nothing is too much trouble. His keen brown eyes scrutinise everything, noting even the smallest details.But it’s not just his work ethic that impresses me. It's the man himself. And that's faintly disturbing, considering I have zero experience with men.

“We make a good team,” I say breathlessly, lifting my eyes to his.

Time stills, and the rest of the world drops away as I lose myself in the heat of his dark gaze. His thumb rubs over my fingers, but it may as well be my nipples from the throb it produces between my thighs.

Focus, Eva!

I clear my throat and reluctantly tug my hand free. “So, uh, which department will you be working in after your probation period?”

“Not sure.” Max shrugs as if it doesn’t matter to him where he ends up. “Is Gerald always like that with his staff?”

The abrupt change of subject catches me off-guard. I’m used to Gerald’s confrontational attitude, but having Max defend me earlier made me realise Gerald’s behaviour is not acceptable.

“He can be … nit-picky,” I reply tactfully, reluctant to talk badly about anyone.

“Nit-picky isn’t the word I would’ve chosen,” Max says bluntly. “I’m not looking for trouble, Eva, but if I need to watch my back with him, I’d rather know upfront. And I sure as hell won’t tolerate him talking to you or anyone else like he did earlier, manager or not.”

All traces of easy-going Max are gone as he bristles protectively. God, he’s hot when he’s riled up, and I try not to melt into a puddle of lust on the floor.

“My opinion is that things are mismanaged,” I admit honestly. “The higher-ups don’t show their faces on the shop floor, so they don’t see the daily issues that arise. I suspect the store could be doing much better, but any ideas to attract new customers or reformat the layout fall on deaf ears.”

Max nods as he listens—reallylistens—which makes my Spidey-senses tingle. Not for the first time today, I question why he’s taken a job as a sales assistant. He’s too smart and knowledgeable to be working the floor. He’s capable of so much more—not that there’s anything wrong with being a sales assistant. I’ve been one for years, and the role is diverse and interesting. Then again, I’ve been picking up Gerald’s slack, which has made my job more challenging than it would usually be.

I open my mouth to ask him about his professional background when a customer approaches, needing directions to the Menswear department. My questions for Max will have to wait.

* * *

As it is,Max and I get no time to talk as we deal with a sudden influx of customers. Then Gerald returns from his two-hour lunch break and steals Max away to carry out his “induction,” whatever that means. I never had an induction when I started, and I wonder if Gerald is covering his arse after his less-than-warm welcome earlier.

Max hasn’t returned by the time my shift is over and isn’t in the break room. I pop my head into Gerald’s office to enquire where he is, but he's not there. I finally track Gerald down as he's emerging from a vacant stock room at the other end of the floor.

"Eva! What are you doing here?" he asks, looking faintly guilty as he locks the door.

"I was looking for Max. Have you seen him?"

"Like that, is it?" He leers. "Already lusting after the new boy."

My stomach roils as his eyes wander up and down my body. "Don't be disgusting, Gerald. And Max is hardly a boy."

He widens his eyes innocently. "Disgusting? That's a little harsh, Eva. I was merely observing that you and Mr Lincoln seem to have hit it off. You do know I earn more than him? I could show you some of London's fanciest restaurants if you'd accept my invitation to take you out."

I'd rather have a full-frontal lobotomy than go anywhere with Gerald. I plaster on a fake smile and say, "You know I don't date co-workers."

"So you say," Gerald replies. "With regard to Mr Lincoln, I allowed him to leave an hour early."

I ignore the pang of disappointment that I didn’t get to say goodbye. I nod. "Okay, well, I'm off home now myself. Have a good evening, Gerald."

I take off before he can reply, collect my purse from my locker, and head home.

It’s only a twenty-minute tube ride and a five-minute walk to the small semi-detached Mum and I shared before she passed. Coming home to an empty house is still bittersweet after four years. Still, Monty is good company when he’s in the mood. He slinks down the stairs as I close the front door and kick off my shoes.

“Have you finished barfing all over the carpet now?” I ask, bending to pick him up and scratching behind his ears.

Monty blinks up at me with yellow-eyed disinterest.

“Good job I love you.” I kiss his soft head and put him down. He purrs and weaves around my legs as I fill his bowl with cat biscuits. “Yeah, yeah, you’re my best friend when I’m dishing out the food,” I say wryly, placing his bowl on his cat mat on the floor.

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