Chapter 7
Caleb
I’m already worried about the new hire.
She seems smart and competent, but also a little vulnerable beneath her contained exterior. That’s the kind of person Modern Edge will eat alive.
Oh, and she’s also drop-dead gorgeous.
That’s all I can think about as I spot Maddy at her desk, completely focused on something on her computer. Her eyes are moving, but her lips are pinched together, and her right foot taps continuously.
Poor woman.
I pause near her desk, and I notice her entire body tensing even more. I frown at the fact, taking it as evidence of just how much Adrian has traumatized her already. When she glances my way, there’s a touch of deer-in-headlights in her eyes.
“Hey,” I say, keeping my voice soft so I don’t cause her any more distress.
She sits up straighter. “Hi, Caleb.” The fact that she remembers my name is, for some reason, a thrill. Which is stupid. Of course she knows my name—I’m her boss.
“How’s it going so far?”
Her mouth twitches. “Well, I haven’t deleted any of Adrian’s files so far, so that’s good.”
“You’d be surprised how many people can’t say that,” I reply, letting out a chuckle. “Anyway,” I clear my throat, “Time for the crash course in software. I hope you’re ready for some brute force learning.”
Her smile is wary, but she catches the joke. “Brute force is my preferred learning style.”
I chuckle. “Come on.” I gesture for her to follow, and she does. I notice she brings her own notepad, even though she doesn’t bring a pen.
Imperfect, but the effort is there. I like that.
I lead her to my office and open the door. My desk is a controlled mess with three computer monitors, a jumble of sticky notes that only make sense to me, and my property files that need to be entered into our system. I pull another chair up to my desk, turning it so she can see the main screen.
“Wow,” her brows raise, “This is intense.”
“Kind of, but not in the exciting way,” I tell her. “It’s mostly spreadsheets and a lot of meeting invites.”
She laughs, and it softens her expression. She sits, tucks one leg under the other, and waits for me to start.
“Okay,” I begin, handing her a pen, “here’s the basic layout.” I pull up the custom interface I spent three years developing and show her the dashboard. “I wrote this myself. If you find a bug, don’t tell Adrian.” I mean it as a joke, but she doesn’t laugh.
She leans forward, eyes scanning the screen. “I’m probably not supposed to say this, but I suck at learning new software.”
“Lucky for you, it’s not hard. It’s just a cleverly disguised Excel spreadsheet. Watch.” I run a few macros, bring up the project tracker, then slide the mouse over so she can try.
She touches the mouse with an unsteady hand, and I look away so I won’t make her self-conscious. “Just double-click?” she asks.
“Yep. You’ll get a pop-up.”
She clicks, and nothing happens. She glances up, visibly bracing.
“Try again, but hold shift. It’s a security thing.” I lean in, not close enough to invade her space, but enough that I catch a faint whiff of her perfume. She does as instructed and the pop-up appears.
But I can hardly focus on the screen.
“Magic,” Maddy beams, half-impressed, half-relieved.
I show her how to enter a new project, how to tag priority emails, how to escalate tasks. And honestly? She’s a quick study.
She chews her lip as she accidentally mislabels a contact, and then immediately tries to back out of the window. I reach to correct it, and her hand lands on mine by accident.
“Sorry,” she says, yanking back.
“No worries,” I reassure her, as my heart skips a beat. “It looks like you’re getting it down quickly.”
She nods and then pauses as it uploads the information, turning to me. “So… how long does it usually take before you start dreaming about this stuff?” she asks, managing a joke even as her cheeks flush.
“About three weeks. But then it’s pretty much every night.” I catch her gaze, and she holds it.
Damn, she’s gorgeous.
The computer beeps, and I rip my gaze from her and back to the screen. We keep going. She takes notes and every so often she asks a question that’s actually good—better than the ones I’ve gotten from the last three hires combined.
She asks why the reports are color-coded the way they are. When I tell her the truth—“Adrian is slightly colorblind, but won’t admit it, so red is always urgent”—she laughs so hard she nearly snorts.
“I won’t tell him you said that,” she says.
“You better not. He’ll have my ass,” I chuckle.
After an hour, she’s comfortable enough to start clicking around on her own. I watch from a distance, coffee mug in hand, and only jump in a couple of times.
“You’re good at this,” I assure her, not bothering to hide how impressed I am.
She looks genuinely surprised. “You think so?”
“Some people never get past the sign-in screen,” I tell her. “It’s kind of a litmus test.”
She glances down, suddenly shy. “You’re a good teacher.”
I shrug, hoping it reads as casual and not awkward. “I’m selfish. The sooner you’re up to speed, the less I have to do.”
She smirks. “So, it’s all about you, then?”
“Absolutely,” I shoot her a wink, which is totally out of character for me. I use the awkward moment to check the clock. We’ve burned almost two hours, and the time totally flew past.
Her phone buzzes with a reminder for a meeting she’s supposed to be at. She looks at it, then at me, and for a moment we both seem reluctant to end.
“I should go,” she says, standing, but not moving away from the desk.
“Just let me know if you need any more help,” I say, trying to think of a reason we need to meet again.
She nods, then hesitates. “Seriously, thanks for this.”
“Anytime,” I say, feeling a pang of sadness as she turns to go.
She leaves then, taking her notepad and leaving my pen. I sit back in my chair, running the session over in my mind. I replay the moments of contact, the jokes, the flashes of real connection.
And I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to see her out of the office.
I emerge from my office at noon, expecting everyone to be gone for lunch. But I spot Maddy still at her desk, hunched over the keyboard and chewing the end of a pen. I stand in my office doorway for a moment, pretending to read a notification on my phone, and wonder if she’ll notice me.
She does after a few moments that feel like an eternity.
She sits back, stretching her arms over her head, and catches my eye with a sheepish grin.
“Skipping lunch isn’t good for the mind,” I say, making my way to her desk.
She shrugs. “Well, I’m also trying to survive my first week without public humiliation, and god forbid, lunch runs late. I’d rather starve.”
“Unrealistic, but admirable,” I chuckle, crossing the floor to her desk. “But you know what?”
“What?” Maddy peers up at me, a strand of her hair loose from her ponytail.
“You can’t get in trouble if lunch runs late with a boss.”
She gazes up at me. “What are you proposing?”
I use my finger to shut down her laptop. “Lunch?”
She considers for half a beat, then nods. “Okay, I can do that. I am kind of hungry.”
I tip my head toward the elevators. “Come on. I know a place.”
She stands, grabs her bag, and falls into step next to me.
We head out of the building and down the block.
There’s a little sandwich shop tucked behind the security kiosk, some sort of holdover from before the neighborhood went all-in on artisanal pizza and microbrews.
We snag a window seat. I can tell she’s surprised, maybe relieved, that this is not some sort of meeting or test.
Nope. That’s not how I do things. It’s just lunch.
She surveys the menu for a few moments, finally landing on a BLT. I get the grilled cheese and fries.
“Are you… vegetarian?” she asks, glancing at the order slip. I can tell she’s worried she missed something about me that she should know—an allergy, a dietary restriction, maybe a philosophical alignment—that could get her in trouble down the line.
Still worried about work.
I shake my head. “I just could eat nothing but bread and cheese, and I’d die a happy man.”
She laughs, and it’s easy as she holds my gaze. “You’re not what I expected.”
“I hear that a lot.”
We sip our drinks and watch people pass outside. She drums her fingers on the table, a restless energy that seems to always be there. I wonder what it would take to get her to stop and just be still.
I have a few ideas. But none are appropriate.
So, I start with safe conversation. “How are you liking the system so far?”
“I think I broke three rules just this morning,” she says, “but your interface is weirdly resilient. I mean, I almost crashed the database, but I figured it out.”
I nod, impressed. “That’s better than most. First time I ran a live deploy, I brought the entire office server down for an hour.”
“Did Adrian flip out?” she asks, with genuine curiosity.
“Absolutely,” I burst into laughter. “But it turns out, if you fix the problem quickly, he keeps his mouth shut and increases your next quarterly bonus.”
She widens her eyes. “That’ll work.”
I note that her posture is looser now. She gestures as she talks and smiles a lot. I can tell she still has some major walls up, but it just drives my curiosity. Maddy Williams is so fucking intriguing, and she has no idea.
When our food arrives, I nudge the basket of fries toward her. “Help yourself.”
She eyes them, then shrugs and grabs one, popping it into her mouth. “These are incredible,” she says as she chews, and immediately goes for another.
“I like this version of you,” I blurt out, before I realize how it sounds.
She freezes, caught off guard. “As opposed to…?”
“The one who looks like she’s about to get a pop quiz at any moment,” I say. “You don’t have to be on all the time. And Adrian comes across like the biggest dickhead you’ve ever met, but he’s mostly bark, as long as you’re doing your job.”
Her eyes flick away, then back to me. “You know, you’re easier to talk to than most people. Most men.” She says the last part so quietly I almost miss it.
“Is that a compliment?” I tease, and she nods.
“Yes.”
I want to ask about her life, her family and where she’s from. But it’s getting late, and I don’t want Adrian to be on her ass when we get back. So instead, I pay the check and guide us back toward the office.
Halfway up the block, she says, “Thanks. I haven’t… I don’t usually feel comfortable with new people. Especially at work.”
“You can blame the fries,” I say.
She grins. “I might.”
I chuckle and try to focus on what I have going on the rest of the day. However, my brain won’t shut off. Maddy is the first executive assistant I’ve ever taken out to lunch.
And I know it’s all just business.
But my gut is already telling me otherwise.
And that could land me in some serious trouble.