Page 1 of Boss Agreement

One

ADDISON

“It was a dark and stormy night…”Wait, no. Far too cliché. Looking around the parking lot of the Neptune Inn, the cheap motel that I’m staying at tonight, I sigh. It’s tricky to write when the weather’s like this.

Definitely nothing that’s supposed to be romantic. Even though pouring rain is probably my favorite weather, it doesn’t lend itself to writing the romance I want to. It makes me crave cuddling up with a book… or a hot guy. You know, if I had one.

I slip my laptop into the brown and teal crocheted bag I picked up at a flea market for under a dollar during college. Bits of yarn have come unraveled; it’s just hard letting something unique go. That doesn’t mean it’s the best laptop bag. Especially when a storm is rolling in and already drizzling. Yarn and water just don’t mix when it’s supposed to be protecting my computer.

I sling the backpack that holds all my traveling clothes over my back and shove my laptop bag under my shirt. It probably makes me look lumpy and troll-like, but that’s never stopped me before.

Raindrops splatter on the pavement as I do my best not to slip while running to the motel office. I can already feel the rivers dripping down my hair by the time I get to the door, sending chills through me. At the same time, I can’t help smiling. There’s something about cool summer storms that transport me to a scene from a novel.

Inside the office isn’t from a book, though. Unless the hero chose this hideout just so no one would look for them here. The steady whir of a box fan spins, and strands of dust hang like streamers in front of it. Constant drips from above fall into an empty paint bucket, and mildew stains ring the ceiling it’s coming from.

As the door closes, I expect a bell or beep to sound, but it just clunks loudly, sounding like two pots being banged together.

“Here you go. The keys to the honeymoon suite.” A skinny guy wearing a shirt probably two sizes too big slides them across the counter. Sporting an always-in-style pornstache, he’s perfect for this classy place.

The honeymoon suite?But that’s the room I reserved. Maybe they have two? I can feel the dismay stirring in my stomach. No chance the Neptune Inn has more than one “suite”.

The man standing at the counter nods at Pornstache, and for a moment, I’m yanked out of my current situation as he turns around. He’s freaking hot. Not cute guy at the mall, hot. No, this guy is “I get paid to look pretty”. And somehow, even though it’s pouring outside, he looks as if he just got out of his fancy closet, complete with a personal stylist.

How’s it legal for any man to have hair like his? Soft waves that fall almost down to his shoulder as though he wasn’t trying, but we all know he probably spent an hour getting it that way. Dark brown with enough highlights and lowlights that I’m not entirely sure whether it’s dyed to perfection, or he was just born with perfect hair.

There’s nothing unusual about what he’s wearing. A nice pair of jeans and button-down shirt. With the sleeves rolled up, showing his hulking arms. Arms that could hold you in place even while you’re collapsing…

Get it together, Addison.

He catches me as I’m staring at him and his lip curls up. “Boy or girl or… alien?” he asks and looks down at my stomach.

I follow his gaze. In my stupor, I’ve twisted the bag so that it’s bulging in weird places.

“Robot,” I say without a second thought and pull out my laptop bag, which sends the hottest guy in the universe into laughter.

“Is that knitted? Aren’t grandmothers supposed to knit hats and sweaters?”

I look down at the brown and teal bag I love so much. And I nope out of this conversation entirely.

Rather than respond to him, I walk to the counter. "I have a room reserved for Addison Adelaide.” His eyes go to the damp sweater I’m wearing, which is beginning to cling to me, and he grins.

“Eyes up here, buddy.”

The smirk widens, but he says nothing, thankfully. Turning to the computer, he squints for a moment. Then he frowns and looks back at me, and I know that Mr. Sexy definitely took my room.

“Well, it seems like there was some confusion…” he says.

I sigh as I realize that what should have been a simple night is quickly turning into a miserable one. “You gave my reservation away, right?”

With a serious face, he looks at his screen, then back at me.

“We’re booked up, but we have a room we can’t rent that you could use. If you promise to give the motel a good rating on Yelp, I can hook you up with it for free.”

“Why don’t you use it? Will I get bed bugs or something?

The clerk just shrugs. “I don’t know. An issue about noisy pipes, I think. Does it matter? They filled every room in the county for the annual Snake Tour of America this weekend.”

Snake Tour of America? What the hell is that? And how is my luck bad enough to be road tripping to New York during it?

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