Page 8 of Grumpy Boss's Secret

“You need to relax.”

“On my first day at work, my boss comes into my office without knocking, asks me if I take my pants off, and then tells me to relax?”

“I’m not coming on to you.”

I blinked at him. “That’s not what I meant,” I said. “I was just saying it’s all rude.”

“I thought you meant that me telling you to relax was… oh, never mind.”

I could feel my cheeks flushing again, with something other than indignation this time. My imagination was suddenly hijacked by an image of him and me in bed together, naked, and him laying me back against the mattress and telling me to relax.

Was that what he was thinking about? His mind went there way too fast. Mine had, too, though.

“It’s patronizing,” I said. “Don’t tell me how to feel. Don’t tell me what to do with my life. You don’t have any jurisdiction over that.”

“Me telling you to relax is hardly me telling you what to do with your life!” he protested, his voice rising.

I’d really gotten to him. The man was hopelessly exasperated. I’d probably get fired. That was fine.

"There was also the comment about the cat refusing to use my first name when I asked you to," I said.

He sucked on his teeth. “Really?” he asked.

“What do you mean, really?”

He sighed. “I give up,” he said.

He turned and started towards my door. I guess I wasn’t fired. Yet.

“Don’t ever come in here without knocking again,” I said.

"I wouldn't dare," he said, shutting the door behind him.

I stared at it for a few seconds and then smiled.

I found a perfect hole-in-the-wall diner to eat that greasy cheeseburger in. By the second bite, I had forgotten all about Ian Huntington. My mind was on my own plans. And my food.

"Okay," I thought, sipping my chocolate milkshake. The contrast of sweet cold with warm savory was on point. People knew what they were doing, advertising this. "Tonight, I meet cats. Maybe even my cat. Then tomorrow, I will go back to work. I do a great job. Again. Then I buy groceries. Then I watch a movie."

I made a mental note to add a bottle of wine to my grocery list. I'd earned that, too, after the day I'd had with Ian Huntington. Okay, I hadn't completely forgotten about him. I paid for my food and checked the location of the nearest cat shelter in my GPS. It was a twenty-minute walk.

“I’ll go on foot,” I decided. “Do a little sightseeing on my way.”

It was still light out and cooling off. I'd gone home after work and changed into comfortable clothes. I had a sweater tied around my waist in case I needed it. The air that brushed against my arms was cool and smelled damp, with a promise of more rain.

"Greece will probably be really hot," I thought, striding with my hands in my pockets, admiring the buildings around me. "Or is it cooler there in the summer? I'd better look that up before tomorrow. I don't want Ian to find out I'm ignorant. Of anything. Ever."

I sucked on my teeth. Ian Huntington. Watch me quit this job after only a month or two. Money wasn’t worth daily irritation.

"Anyway, I hope it's warm enough to go to a beach," I thought. "It won't feel like a trip to Greece until I swim in the ocean a little. Not that I know what going to Greece feels like."

I realized I hadn’t brought a swimsuit with me.

“I’ll have to buy one before I go,” I thought, eager. Maybe something red. Or royal blue. If I was going to Europe, I could pick a skimpy suit if I wanted to, something that really showed off –

I suddenly saw Ian staring at me on a beach, looking at my body in a bikini.

"Yeah, maybe just a standard cut," I flushed. I felt suddenly warm. "Maybe even some shorts."

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