Page 21 of Bossy Grump's Secret

"Hey, Dylan,don't you have anyone else to monitor, or are we just getting special treatment now?" Robbie jokes.

Dylan just smiles and looks at me. Immediately, a red hue creeps over my cheeks at the realization that he's very aware of what had happened the night before.

I have never needed an amnesiac more in my life. When it is time for our lunch break, Lily and I muse over our meal and catch up on the latest occurrences.

"Hey, how often did Dylan arrive at your station today?" I ask her.

She shrugs and says, "I don't think I've seen him since our assignment." I'm sure she forks a piece of pie will not fit into her mouth. "Why?" Her voice is muffled as she asks.

"He's been in mine three times already." I nod in realization as she gets it.

"He remembers?" She scrunches her face in confusion.

"I'm sure of it," I affirm.

"Well..." she laughs at me.

"Now you're in proper trouble. Ava Pearson... sleeping with the boss." She announces it like a news headline, but loud enough for us both to hear. That doesn't stop me from almost suffocating her with my hands.

"Would you be quiet!?" I give a low growl. "Besides, we haven't even slept together yet."

"Yet. So you'll do it, eventually." She picks at my words expertly to use them against me. Still, I am the one that made the blatantly implicating statement, and I cover my mouth in shock when I realize it.

She jiggles her eyebrows at me suggestively, and for the rest of the meal, she makes inappropriate jokes about Dylan and me. Even more shameless is that I mentally indulge in the scenarios she creates. When we're done with lunch, I have nothing to do, so I either patrol the lobby with people on duty or return to the staff quarters and catch a well-deserved nap.

You guess which one I picked. Working with Robbie is fast-paced and tiring, so when I hit the bed, I hit it hard and completely black out until a tap on the door jolts me awake. My eyes open groggily and I see Dylan standing with a first-aid kit.

"Hey!" I greet him with more enthusiasm than I should have.

"Hey. Am I interrupting anything?" he asks.

"Do you want an honest answer for that?" I rub my eyes.

"I'm sorry. Maybe later…" He nods in apology and turns to go.

"No, no, no, no... It's okay, I guess. Come on in." I invite him, and he turns as swiftly as I say the first “no”.

Without hesitation, he removes his shirt and walks over to the couch. I watch him move with my mouth salivating. His body is honestly one of the most deliciously sculpted masterpieces I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing. He's not much taller than me, so he doesn't have that tower effect, that doesn't stop me from wanting to run my hands over his smooth skin, chiseled pectorals, and toned abdominals, with everything in proportion enough to create a numbing desire in my lower abdomen.

“Ready when you are, Candy,” he says when he is fully seated and has had his fill of me gawking at his body for at least five extra seconds. I don't have any defence, so instead of a snarky reply, I try to hide the embarrassing redness on my cheeks and begin the process.

When I inspect the wound on his back, I am genuinely pleased by the results of an entire week of constant care.

“Well, if all goes according to plan and you don’t go dipping yourself in a pool of bacteria, this should be the last dressing that I or the clinic will apply,” I announce, mentally regretting the fact that I won’t be seeing him on this pedestal anymore.

“So, this is the last time? " he asks as if adding salt to the injury. I wonder why I feel that about losing my favorite toy.

It was just one kiss, Ava. One kiss! My mind utters to cheer me up. But then again, But seriously, when was the last time I got kissed like that?

"You can swing by for a check-up and see how it's healing."

“I’ll try.”

My interpretation of his statement is that he is not making any promises, and I perfectly understand him. When I'm done with the dressing on his back, I stand to take care of the one on his head. Other bruises were inflicted on him on the day of the fight, but most of them would have completely dried up by now.

“The head wound is doing well,” I announce, and I hear him curse under his breath. "You said something?" I ask, but he shrugs it off. The head wound has completely healed and doesn’t even need a new dressing. Still, I'll let the nurses decide, so I apply for one.

While I do so, he reminds me about what I want most in the world to forget.

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