Sincerely, Up Yours: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy, page 10
One of the teens made me jump with surprise when she suddenly plopped down across from me. She had heavy-handed eye makeup like little wings and wore about a gallon of lip gloss. “Oh. My. God. Who was that guy? Is he your boyfriend? Or is he like, your dad or something? Because if he’s your dad–”
“We’re the same age,” I snapped.
“So he’s like thirty?”
“I’m twenty-five!” I half-shrieked. I didn’t know why I was suddenly so riled up.
The girl pulled her head back, lips pursed. “Like, okay. Twenty-five, thirty, what’s the difference? So if you two aren’t together, could you get me his number?”
I decided it wouldn’t be very mature of me to dump the watery remains of my icecream over her head. I settled for a tight, very non-genuine smile, and rushed outside.
Then my dumb ass remembered Dominic had given me a ride. He was leaning on his car, waiting for me with crossed arms.
“Temporary truce?” he asked once he saw me coming out.
“No,” I said. “The war is still on.”
He chuckled, then pulled the door open for me. Just as I was about to get in, he slammed it closed and gave me an obnoxious little wink. “Game on, then.” He walked to his side of the car with his hands in his pockets and an amused expression on his face.
Asshole.
16
DARCY
I had cooled off after my little ice cream date. A warm shower, a little self care, and a few days to let things settle was all it took. At work, we were both pretending nothing had happened. Sort of, at least. There was a brief but heated email exchange the day after the ice cream incident. It started when he sent me the following:
Miss McClain,
I hope you will remain professional in the office despite the conversation we had last night. I know I don’t need to remind you that we’re still restructuring and any insubordination or acting out could be grounds for dismissal, despite our “arrangement”.
Sincerely,
Dominic
Naturally, I’d read the letter and practically had steam coming out of my ears. Instead of doing the wise thing and cooling off before responding, I fired off what I thought at the time was a real gem.
Mr. Lockwood,
Rest assured, one of us is and has remained a professional.
Sincerely,
Up Yours
It was the sort of email I kind of wished I could retract as soon as I sent it, but that wasn’t how emails worked. So I had braced myself for his fire-laden response, but it never came. Dominic just kept on going about his business like nothing was wrong, which almost made it worse. It felt like things had cooled and heated up at the same time, and I wasn’t sure how that made any sense.
I also knew I still needed to finish the interview with him, and I didn’t quite have enough yet–not enough to stake my job on, anyway.
I had a feeling he was going to really shut down on me if I made him agree to meet with me again after the way the ice cream interview ended. But that was okay, because I had the perfect plan to catch him off guard.
I smiled at the genius of my plan as I strapped on a brand new pair of sneakers. I was in a park outside the office. It was some ungodly early hour of the morning and I was disgusted to see that dozens of people appeared to be awake and happy about it. The sun wasn’t even awake yet, but my dumb ass was. Correction. My scheming, clever, ass was awake. Why, you ask? Because Dominic Lockwood went for a brisk jog around the park every morning at this hour. I knew as much because I’d bribed Marcus with chocolates and he blabbed.
So I was going to start running at this hour, too. Dominic would admire how similarly fit I was to him. Out of mutual respect, he’d start chatting with me while we ran together around the park every morning. Besides, he probably would be too tired to be guarded while he was exercising. All I’d need to do was keep up with him, and within a few runs, I’d have all the material I could ever want for my interview.
It was pure genius.
The only snag was that I hadn’t officially gone for a run in… well, since the last time a P.E. coach threatened to fail me if I didn’t. The other times I’d gone over roughly four miles per hour on foot involved spiders and one case of chasing after a guy I thought was a member of a boy band I liked at the time–don’t worry, I was way younger. That was at least two or three years ago.
I spotted Dominic starting his jog down the sidewalk by the lake. He was coming my way.
Oh, shit. Game time.
I did a quick approximation of a warm up while I waited. I figured he’d reach me in about a minute or two. I’d only had time to lift my hands over my head and do a little swirl of my hips when I realized the bastard was coming fast. He wasn’t jogging. He was running like his life depended on it with long legged strides that ate up the distance between us.
He came blazing down the sidewalk toward me and I tried to sprint after him. Dominic passed me, then did a double take over his shoulder and stopped. He pulled an earbud loose and narrowed his eyes at me. “Darcy? You jog?”
I bulged my eyes, brain in full panic mode. This wasn’t how I saw this going. For some reason I’d pictured casually falling into pace beside him and saying something smooth like, “come here often?” But at least he wasn’t asking me about the email. Maybe if I pretended it never happened, he would too.
Instead, I was standing there already sweating for no clear reason and my legs were starting to cramp in protest of the mere thought of going for a run. “I’ve jogged before,” I said.
“What is this?” he gestured his hands, looking around as if expecting some prank crew to come running out. “Did you follow me here?”
Shit. Shit. Shit. “What? No. Get over yourself, Mr. Lockwood. This is a pretty park and I wanted to start getting a little exercise before work. Is that a crime?”
He stared just long enough to let me know he didn’t fully buy my explanation. “Were you trying to catch up to me just then?”
I waved him off, scrunching up my face and laughing. “Uh, no? I was just starting my run until you stopped and interrupted me.”
Some emotion glinted in his eyes that I couldn’t read. He tilted his head slightly and put his earbud back in. “Enjoy your run, then.”
I grimaced and started slogging along once he sped off. What a complete disaster. Now if I left, it’d look obvious that I was following him. If I stayed, it meant I actually had to jog. Why didn’t I factor this in when I made my plans? I hated jogging. Actually, I hated all exercise.
I dragged myself around the path for nearly half an hour. I was sweating my ass off, clutching my sides from cramps, and developing knee problems by the end of it. I also had to watch Dominic go flying by me every few minutes as he lapped me. It was utterly embarrassing.
When I couldn’t go any more, I slumped into a bench and tried to catch my breath. My body was upset with me. Very upset. Everything hurt and I considered calling a cab instead of walking the few blocks back to my apartment.
Dominic came to a stop when he saw me sitting. “You’re already finished?” He was sweating, but not as much as me.
I threw my hands up. “I might need to research other forms of exercise.”
He sat down on the bench, close enough that his thigh was touching mine. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Did Marcus tell you I jog here?”
I sighed. There was no use pretending. My little farce was painfully obvious. “Yes,” I said. “I thought maybe you’d be more talkative when you were tired.”
“You really want to get this interview right, don’t you?” he asked. “I expected you to ask to meet in the office a few times and call it a done job.”
“We made a deal. My job depends on making the interview sell magazines.”
Dominic looked like he wanted to say something, but he drew his eyebrows together and looked away suddenly. “Well, if you want to interview me while I jog, you’ve got some conditioning to do.”
With that, he stood and resumed his run.
I wished I could’ve caught up to him just to kick him in that perfectly toned ass of his. But I couldn’t, so I settled for glaring instead.
17
DOMINIC
I drummed my fingers on my desk and tried not to let my eyes slide to the window. But the damn things slid, and there she was. She’d curled her short hair into loose waves today. It was Wednesday, and neither of us had spoken all day.
I still found myself grinning when I thought of her ridiculous little stunt at the park. She was wearing brand new shoes and workout clothes that looked just as new. This weekend, we’d had dinner at her parents and ice cream afterwards. Now she was trying to stalk me outside work hours just for the sake of her interview.
I had to admit I was impressed. She thought outside the box and was willing to go the extra mile for projects, and I admired that in her. I’d be damned if I admitted as much to her face, but there it was.
I was also a nosy, privacy ignoring prick, so I knew she’d been busting her ass on the piece from last week with no breaks. It was good, too.
I thought again about where our conversation had gone wrong at the ice cream shop. Why the hell did she care so much if I didn’t go for her pitch? Did she think I owed it to her to accept her pitch just because her last boss would have? That was how a change in management worked. Things were different. Goals didn’t stay the same. I shouldn’t have had to explain that to her. Sure, maybe some small part of me was stubbornly against the idea because it would also mean entrenching her at The Squawker even more. If I ran a weekly pitch from her, I’d need even more to justify firing her. And I sure as hell knew I needed to make that happen. Keeping Darcy around spelled trouble for me, and I couldn’t afford trouble if I wanted this operation to run smoothly.
Still, my dumb ass had also been second-guessing the way I’d worded my rejection all week. I was certain Darcy saw me as some kind of heartless troll, but the truth was I felt a pang of guilt about the way our conversation went. Watching her dad be such an asshole felt all too familiar, and then I’d gone and been just as much of an asshole right after playing the good guy.
Marcus interrupted me mid-scowl. He swung into the office with one hand on the doorknob and a smile on his face. His good mood only temporarily faltered when he saw my face. “Uh, hey. Didn’t mean to interrupt. My sisters are having a get together this weekend though. They told me to invite you and all the staff. I saved you for last.”
“Why would they tell you to invite the whole staff?”
His brows dropped. “Because they are nice? Ally is having them all over at her place and they are all excited for me with the new job and all. They want to meet everyone. I know–it’s a strange and unfamiliar impulse, but let me try to explain it in a way you’ll understand.” He raised both hands, gesturing as he talked slowly like I might lose him if he went too fast. “Some people don’t want to bash every new person they meet over the head with a club. Some people enjoy talking to other people. They even enjoy meeting new people.”
I sighed. “Why does everybody make me out to be some kind of barbarian lately?”
“Oh, no idea,” Marcus said. “But you know what they say. If everybody thinks you’re a barbarian, maybe you’re a barbarian.”
“Nobody says that.”
“They should. It really makes a lot of sense. So are you coming or not?”
“Yes, I’ll come. It wouldn’t look good if my whole staff showed up and I didn’t. Is Tristan coming?”
“Why? Do you want to make sure you two don’t wear the same dress? I think he was going with leopard print and black pumps, if that helps.”
“Get out of my office.”
Marcus gave a quick salute and then left.
I templed my fingers, glaring harder at Darcy than I had before. So far, I’d proven relatively capable of controlling myself at work around her. Sure, my eyes wandered, but I did a pretty damn good job of keeping my door between the two of us. Outside of work, my success rate was abysmal.
I rubbed a hand across my face and tried to focus myself back on work. I had a pile of submissions from the staff I still needed to go through again. Every week, about half of the pieces submitted to me ended up in the trash pile. I had a new standard for what passed in The Squawker, and once my employees were regularly living up to that standard, I’d be able to move forward with Marcus and Tristan on further expansion efforts.
But at the moment, most of the pressure to raise the bar was on me. It meant I wasn’t sleeping great and I was practically living in the office. I would’ve killed for a fucking nap right at that moment, but I knew rest wasn’t in the cards–at least not until the weekend, assuming I was lucky.
I jolted upright when someone knocked at my door.
“Come in.”
Darcy let herself in. The subtle scent of her shampoo washed over me as she came and sat across from my desk, eyes intent on me.
“Yes?” I asked.
There was a mischievous glint in her eyes I didn’t like one bit. “I wanted to ask if you were coming to Marcus’ thing..”
“Why?”
“Because if you’ll be there, I don’t need to invite you out for drinks tonight to get more for our interview.”
“You’ve been busting your ass on that piece for our next issue. Do you really expect me to believe you’re still working on the interview in your spare time?’
“Healthy people take breaks from work.” She let her gaze linger on mine a little too long after that. “I’m just gathering information on you right now. Slowly,” she added.
I considered calling off the little game right then and there. I could just tell her she was obviously talented enough that I would be an idiot to fire her. I should tell her. But I found myself nodding slowly. If I said those words, our awkward but entertaining clashes would almost surely come to an end. “Yes, I’ll be there.”
“Great. So I’ll see you tonight? Why don’t I give you a ride?”
“What? Absolutely not. That’s a terrible idea.” Part of my reaction was driven by the sudden and vivid image of Darcy sitting on top of me, hands on my chest and eyes closed as she rode me straight into fucking oblivion.
Her voice snapped me back to reality. “You said I could have you whenever I needed for interviews, didn’t you? Well, I request to have you in my car on the way to the party, so that’s settled.”
I felt the temptation to smile. Here we go again. All I had to do was shut this down. Call off the interviews. I could call off the silly little game we were playing, but I knew I wasn’t about to do that. Not yet, at least. “If you insist on driving together, I’ll drive.”
“No. If we get in a fight again, I can leave you at the party if I drive.” She smiled sweetly. “I’d rather not be the one stuck calling for a cab or a favor.”
“If you’re so worried we’ll get in a fight, then we should just make our own way to the party.”
“Mr. Lockwood, are you afraid of being alone with me?”
My jaw tensed and I met her eyes. “No. If you really want to be so stubborn, fine. You can drive me to the party.”
“Great. The interview starts in my car. I think there’s a chance you might loosen up on the road. I’ve got to take every advantage I can get since somebody likes to be so tight-lipped.” She got up, raised her eyebrows, and shrugged. “I’m assuming you’ll be here till seven, right?”
“Correct,” I grated.
“Great. I’ll text you when I get here. Put your number in my phone.” She set her phone on my desk and pushed it toward me with her index finger. Her nail had once been teal but the paint was mostly chipped off and the nail was bit down to the quick. Her phone screen wasn’t in much better shape. It was cracked from what looked like multiple accidents.
I should’ve been appalled by the whole package from the fingernails to the screen. They were dead giveaways that she was a nervous wreck and clumsy. Instead, it just reminded me how temptingly real she was. She didn’t hide behind plastic and filters. Darcy was just Darcy, and there was an unapologetic kind of charm to that.
“You didn’t enter the code,” I said.
“Oh, there’s no code. Just swipe on the screen somewhere.”
I lifted my eyes. “Aren’t you worried the wrong person will get their hands on your phone?”
“Why? Do you think I have nudes on there or something?”
My throat went suddenly dry at the thought of nude images of Darcy just a few taps away. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing, because her eyes flitted to my fingertip and then to my face. She bit her lip, eyebrows wiggling. “Feel free to check, boss.”
I summoned all the willpower I had and tapped my way to her contacts list. I added myself as “Mr. Lockwood” and handed the phone back to her.
“You know, I really thought you were going to look at my photos.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I am,” she said. “There’s nothing inappropriate in there except the first image. It’s me giving the middle finger to the camera. I was going to say you can’t discipline me for giving you the finger since you shouldn’t have been snooping in the first place. But you kinda ruined that.”
“Are you done?” I asked.
She sighed. “Yeah. I still have work to do if I’m going to finish this piece by Friday. So you’ll be ready for me by seven, right?” She paused just long enough to look me over. “Are you wearing that?”
I looked down. “Is there something wrong with what I have on?”
“Oh, no, it’s great. I just wanted to make sure you keep it on. Love the vest.”
And with that, she left my office.
I looked down at my vest and frowned. Was she fucking with me?
