Dear Grumpy Boss (Bossily Ever After #1)

16. Zayn

Sixteen

Zayn

I’m nervous as I stand at the familiar dark-red door of the Shettys’ house that evening.

A neat bench sits on the tiny porch with shoes tucked up under it. Then there’s that small copper bell that hangs at the top. This house is more familiar to me than my own apartment.

I’ve been here numerous times for holidays, and I could have made the decision to not show up. But my gut said otherwise, and my brain screamed at for even considering breaking the tradition. The weekend after Valentine’s Day, I’m supposed to be at Shettys’.

It was as simple as that and at some point, I’ll have to face her again. Why not get over the torment as soon as possible?

I smooth my left hand over my jacket lapel and ring the doorbell. A thought comes to me and I turn around to scan the driveway.

Adam’s truck isn’t here. Like the two evergreens straddling the small property, it’s a constant. Shit, is it going to be just her and me tonight?

No, Adam flew all this way to be with her this weekend. He wouldn’t just ditch her.

All the back-and-forth in my head is useless because suddenly the door opens.

And there she stands—my girl, my goddess. My reason for breathing.

“Hey,” she says, nudging her thick glasses up her nose. There’s a little squeak of shock in that word. Leaning forward, she kisses my cheek like she’s been doing since she was nine years old. As if just a few hours ago, I didn’t put my tongue in her pussy.

Even the look she gives me after the kiss is all polite and welcoming.

I hand her the bottle of wine wordlessly.

She frowns and moves to the side. “Come in.”

I squeeze past her, making sure none of me touches her. It feels as if all my feelings have not only been amplified but laid out for the world to see. Like I put myself on inside out.

“Thanks for this,” she says, raising the bottle.

I follow her to the cramped kitchen.

Some of the furor in my heart calms at the familiar sight of the counters bursting with food trays and a variety of new drinks that I love trying every year. But without her bustling grandma and her dry-witted grandpa, the space feels empty and quiet and…tense.

“Where’s Adam?” I say, as I pour myself some mango juice and walk to the tree painted on one wall of the living room.

There are pictures and medals and little notes and greeting cards pasted all over, a testament to the love the house has seen for decades. Even my face stares down at me—pics with Adam or her grandparents and a few with her. There are greeting cards I’ve barely scribbled my name on. Then there are little notes that I put on her birthday and Christmas gifts every year. Wanting to say so much, but not sure what.

Each and every single one of them is here—nearly fifteen years of notes with “Mouse” written on them in colored inks.

She didn’t just save all of them, but she put them out here for everyone to see. How have I not noticed before?

“Adam said he had some errands to run but he should be back anytime. I…”

“What?” I say, turning around. The last thing I want is for her to be nervous around me.

“I didn’t have much time to do any elaborate cooking.” She points to the steaming mac-and-cheese tray. “It’s not going to be as good as Grandma’s cooking.”

“That’s fine,” I say, noting how the navy-blue sheath dress clings to her curves. Her hair falls down her back in thick waves and her mouth glistens pink. I feel this intense twisting urge in my stomach to pull her into my arms and ruin all that innocence all over again.

She opens the wine bottle I brought, pours some for herself and joins me in the living room. I clink my glass against hers. She takes a sip and licks off a lingering drop from her lower lip.

Her gaze dips to the wine. “I wasn’t sure if you would come tonight.”

“You still made my favorite mac and cheese.”

“I hoped you would come and I did promise you a feast. I know that tonight is important to you.”

I nod. Words keep getting stuck in my throat. Suddenly, it’s as if we’re strangers who’ve been set up on some dreadful first date.

I don’t understand this. The raw, rough intimacy we shared last night…I’ve never experienced it with anyone. And I’ve never wanted it with anyone. I want that back. I want all of her desires and dreams for the rest of our lives.

Now, there’s only this tense…awareness arcing between us. Or is that just me?

I sweep my gaze over her, wishing there was no distance between us at all. Wishing I could tell her how I feel. “You look beautiful, Mouse.”

Pink dusts her cheeks and she presses a hand to her middle. “Thank you. I…” She upends the wineglass and finishes it. Then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Am I allowed to thank you for the over-the-top generous present?”

“If you accept it gracefully, yes. It’s not just a present. It’s a bonus for all the work you put in over the years. Not just as my assistant, but by making the company a bright place.”

“Oh…that’s a sweet thing to say. But, Zayn—”

“I said no discussion, Mouse.”

“Not even about how you give me this blinding, giant-ass gift to hide the fact that you’re firing me?”

Anger claims me in a scorching fire. “Firing you?” I shoot to my feet, cross the myriad poufs and stools and tables to reach her and glower down at her. “I didn’t fire you. You…said you had to leave me.”

She comes to her feet too and puts the wineglass down with a such a thump that it’s a wonder it doesn’t shatter in her hands. “Yes, but in the middle of last night, you said you can’t without me….and I said I’ll stay.”

“I don’t want a fucking pity stay, Mouse,” I bite out bitterly. “Anyway, when I thought about it this morning, I realized that you’re wasted as my assistant. You…you’re one of those people who makes the world a safer, kinder, more wonderful place for others. And you can do that best running a bookstore with your best friend.”

Tears fill her eyes and she sniffles. “You really think all that? You aren’t just saying it to be rid of me?”

I reach her and cup her hip, even though I promised myself I wouldn’t touch her tonight. Not unless she asked me to. With my other hand, I catch one lone tear. “I think all that and more.”

She licks her lower lip, eyes wide and needy behind those glasses. I know her expressions now and I love that I do. “More? Like what?”

“Eager for praise, huh?”

“From you, yes.”

I splay my fingers far and wide, to touch more of her. “You’re like a rainbow in the sky, Mouse. Bright and colorful and joyous. With a pot of gold in secret places.”

She huffs and turns pink. My other hand loses the fight against the alluring invitation of her curves. Now that I have both hands on her, I’m not sure I can ever let go again. Doing it once this morning nearly broke me.

“And why would I want to get rid of you? You’re the one who’s insisting on leaving me.”

Her eyes flicker between mine. “After last night, things could get sticky between us. And you hate that kind of awkwardness in your every day. Or you could be afraid that I’ll become all clingy and demanding and ask for stuff you don’t want to give?”

I skim my knuckles over the silky soft skin of her jaw. “You’re putting your fears into my reaction, Mouse. Not fair.”

“No?”

I shake my head and pull her closer. “Whatever you ask for, I told you, is yours.”

“I forget that when you say something, you mean it.”

“You know me, baby.” The endearment slips out of my lips, but I’m damned if I take it back.

She wraps one arm around my shoulders and hugs me loosely. Her thick curls dance between us as she bends her head and leans it against my chest. “You make me feel beautiful and brave and bold. So here goes.” Her chest rises and falls, and I’m entirely too distracted by the lush globes of her tits. She presses a palm to my chest and meets my eyes. “I want your heart, Zayn. May I please have it?”