Page 3 of The Wedding Jinx

“It’s your fault we’re late,” I say to Nadia in a low tone as we follow Quentin down the hall of the open space with beautiful wood beams and brick interior walls toward the conference room.

“It’syourfault,” she says, her voice a half whisper. “Because you’re being such a big whiny baby.”

“I amnota baby.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Just be in my wedding already.”

“You can’t make me.”

She gives me a thumbs-up, and I give her one back. It’s our workplace replacement for the middle finger. It comes in handy, especially when Jason, who works in development, tries to overexplain something—or mansplain, as the kids are calling it these days. Although, I’ve been womansplained to on occasion, so maybe we need a more inclusive word. This is Jason’s MO, though. And when he does it to me—the overexplaining thing—in that know-it-all tone, I respond with a big smile and a thumbs-up, and he has no idea that I’ve just flipped him off.

I should probably also mention that our nickname for Jason is Sir Condescension, which is too long to say, so we just call him Sir Jason.

“Nadia, Mila,” Grayson says in that deep voice of his. He nods toward us as we walk through the doorway of the conference room and both take seats next to Vik at the oval-shaped table. “Glad you’re here.”

“You know, the Tuesday meeting always starts at nine o’clock,” Sir Jason says, two seats down from me. Without even coordinating it, Nadia and I both give him a thumbs-up.

“Sorry,” Nadia says for the both of us, her words directed at Grayson and not Jason.

For Grayson’s part, he just gives us a closed-mouth smile and then focuses on his iPad, not even an inkling of annoyance on his facial features. It’s a rare moment that I’ve seen Grayson Manning be angry since I started working at AppInnovate. It’s probably one of the reasons I can never seem to tamp down my ever-growing crush on the man. He’s never done anything to put me off, which should be annoying in and of itself. I know he’s not perfect—nobody is. But if I could just see for myself. Like maybe if he could just throw an adult tantrum, or maybe have dirty fingernails (but they’re always perfectly cleaned and trimmed), or even like an accidental fart or something, maybe I could move on from the man. It doesn’t help that the BILK’s got dreamy green eyes and thick honey-colored hair. He could easily pass for a Hemsworth (more Chris than Liam).

It’s very unoriginal of me to have a crush on this man. It’s kind of my thing, crushing on my boss, or manager, or someone who has even the slightest bit of authority. It’s happened more than I care to admit. Out of the six male bosses I’ve had since entering the workforce at the young age of fifteen, I’ve had a thing for four of them. Of the other two, one was married, and the other was as old as my dad (not my thing). I haven’t stopped there, either. I caught feelings for a trainer at the gym I worked at between high school and college. I was also a little infatuated with one of my professors in college. He totally had a young Harrison Ford vibe going on. I wasn’t alone in that crush.

There’s just something about an intelligent, disciplined man who’s good at taking control of things that I can’t help being attracted to. I’m not alone in this either. There are movies, television shows, and a plethora of books featuring the boss romantic trope. It’s a thing.

However, my biggest conundrum has always been: Is the attraction real? Or is it just a thing I tend to do—a pattern I fall into? I finally put it to the test and dated my manager at my last job. It didn’t end well. My whole life was upended because of it, so that was fun.

I think it’s safe to say it’s just a pattern I fall into. Possibly one I should get therapy for. Regardless, it’s not a real attraction, and I’m going to stick with that.

I’ll just continue to try to push away these pestering butterflies that take flight in my stomach anytime I’m around Grayson and his incredibly green eyes. Even when those eyes catch mine just as he starts the meeting I’m supposed to be listening to. Even when he sort of skitters over his words as he starts the meeting, like he’s had a momentary lapse in memory or something.

I have to save myself from … myself.

Grayson

SHE’S WEARING THE DRESS. THAT red dress that drives me freaking crazy. It should come with a warning label, or she could at the very least notify me when she plans to wear it so I can conveniently work from home on those days. I’m having a hard time tearing my eyes away. I swear, every time she wears it—and yes, I’ve shamefully kept count—my brain goes haywire.

The first time she wore it was to that crucial meeting with the localization company. The one I desperately wanted to impress to make our travel app, GlobeTrotter, go global. Thanks to Mila in that dress, I managed to call the app TrottGlober not once, but twice. Then I drooled water down my shirt. It wasn’t actually drool—it was the ice water that somehow didn’t make it to my mouth and instead went right down the front of my white button-up. Thankfully, despite my inability to function like a normal human, they took the account. I think it was more Mila’s doing than mine.

Then there was the time she wore it to that meetup after work. The one where I finally got up the gumption to see if I wasn’t alone in my attraction. That’s not what happened, though. No, I made a fool of myself instead. Not one of my best moments and also one I tend to replay in my head quite often—mostly while in the shower—and then chastise myself for being such an idiot. In my defense, how was I to know she had a boyfriend? I’ve never met Dave, but he sounds like a tool.

That experience should have tainted the dress, reminding me of my idiocy, and yet here we are again, with the dress making a triumphant comeback, and me having to fight my own eyeballs to stop looking in her direction. I force them to move to the iPad sitting in front of me with the agenda I worked on last night pulled up.

“Let’s, uh … get started?” Dammit, that was not supposed to sound like a question.

I shake my head, trying to clear the fog clouding my mind. It’s the weekly leadership team meeting, for crying out loud. I’m the owner of this company, and I should be running this meeting with confidence. Every week. Like clockwork.

I need to snap out of it, but my eyes keep gravitating toward Mila. That red dress she’s wearing is my kryptonite. It’s not just the dress itself, although it does hug her in all the right places. It’s how beautiful she looks in that color, her milky-white skin with her long brown hair and those insanely blue eyes.

Before you judge me for being shallow, it’s not just her beauty I find attractive. She’s also whip smart, and incredibly witty. I was impressed with her from the moment I met her two years ago, when she sat in the white leather chair in my office for her interview. She was remarkable, and so was her résumé. She’d made it through an extensive phone interview before coming in, and even before meeting her, I’d already made my mind up that she would be a good fit to manage GlobeTrotter.

She was the easiest hire I’ve made since starting this company. Now that we’ve worked together, my initial attraction has only gotten worse. By worse, I mean more. Bigger. There’s something so enticing about Mila. She’s funny and loyal and smart—all of that. But she’s also the kind of woman who makes you wish for things. Like even just some time to talk to her, to get to know her on a deeper level. Or maybe to go back in time and rearrange things so we could have met at a different place in life. A different time. Maybe when my life wasn’t so stressful, or when she didn’t have a boyfriend named Dave. Dave, whom I’ve never met before, but would like to give a wedgie.

It’s a good thing she’s got a boyfriend because it’s not like I could have a relationship, even if I wanted one. I’m not in any position for that—timewise, or financially. I shouldn’t want to give Dave a wedgie—I should want to give the man a hug. He’s saving me from myself. Because how I feel about Mila could have me throwing caution to the wind, even knowing it wouldn’t be good for me right now.

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