29. Mandy
29
MANDY
S alinger’s car is waiting in front of the tower when we step off the elevator.
“Is Ms. Pepper going into work with you, or do you need a dogsitter?” Seward asks hopefully.
“Very clearly, you’re volunteering.” Salinger’s tone is conversational, casual, like last night he didn’t just have his hands all over me. Like an hour ago he didn’t say he wanted to suck my nipples through a shirt.
“As I said, it’s nice to have animals and babies around.”
“Salinger, you should adopt a pet so Seward has a friend to talk to,” I say.
“We don’t need anyone else around here having entire conversations with animals.” He opens the passenger door for me, and I sink into the deep leather seat.
The car smells like Salinger. I wonder what it would be like to have that smell wrapped around me in his oversized bed, with the dark comforter shoved to the foot of the bed, us tangled in the sheets...
Nope. Not about my boss, we’re not.
Lines are being blurred, though, or maybe it’s just me.
Beside me, Salinger’s driving, eyes unreadable behind dark sunglasses.
He’s so unfairly hot, and I admit I had some teen-girl fantasy of him falling in love with me when I first started working for him. That is, until I came to my senses and signed up for that singles mixer.
I never should have gotten involved with Jaxon, and I definitely can never ever get involved with Salinger Svensson.
“Mandy,” he says.
Pepper tries to climb into his lap.
“Don’t get hair on his clothes, Pepper.” The dog ignores me, jumping in Salinger’s lap, her front paws on the window. “Oh, Starbucks!”
Salinger’s trying to ignore us, which is probably hard because we’re both practically in his lap as me and the dog gaze longingly at the green-and-white storefront.
“Coffee.” My voice is reverent. “Pepper and I usually buy a pick-me-up on the way to the office.”
He keeps driving.
“Oh, you passed it, but that’s okay. There’s another one coming up.”
“We’re not stopping. I had very expensive coffee brought in for you.” He signals and makes a turn.
“They ran out of the Cosmic Coconut cold brew the last time I was there. I need it before it leaves at the end of the month—you don’t understand,” I plead.
The dog rests her head on the steering wheel and howls .
“I’m in the office when you bring in those disgusting drinks.” His mouth twists. “I understand—I just don’t condone it.”
Pepper is acting like she’s dying.
“She wants her Puppuccino,” I tell him.
“Really? Because I think you just want your coffee slop.”
“It’s the high point of my day. You can just drop us off at the next Starbucks,” I offer, “and we can walk back to the office.”
Pepper tumbles off his lab as Salinger suddenly jerks the wheel, stealing a parking space in front of the Starbucks before a woman in a Porsche can park there.
“Asshole!” the driver yells out of the car window as we exist the vehicle.
Pepper, in my arms, barks.
“I’m sorry,” I call to her.
Salinger’s already at the door of the store, impatient.
The driver gives me the finger. Her poodle hangs out of the window to bark at Pepper.
I hurry over to him. “You stole that woman’s spot.”
“You said you wanted coffee.” He holds the door open for me and Pepper.
“Shoot, I should have done a mobile order.”
The line snakes around the store.
“At least we can look at the new merchandise while we wait. This cup warmer is cute. Salinger? Salinger!”
My boss is heading to the pick-up counter.
“Cosmic Coconut cold brew for Mac,” the overworked barista calls out.
“Here.” Salinger holds up his hand, cutting in front of a shorter man and wrapping his hands around the cold cup .
“That’s not your drink,” the man sputters as I rush up. “That’s my order.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
The man ignores me and focuses on Salinger, who is extremely amused by these events.
“Is that your drink?” The barista looks confused.
“The question you should be asking,” says my boss, leaning artfully against the pick-up counter, “is if that’s his drink.” He gestures with the cup. “Is your name Mac?”
“Yes, that’s my drink.” The man puffs up.
“Let’s see some ID.” Salinger motions with the hand holding the coffee.
“You can’t—that’s not—”
The barista is paying more attention to Salinger who flashes her a dazzlingly sexy smile.
“Yeah, let’s see some ID,” the barista breathes.
“Oh, for goodness sake, this is absurd,” I interject.
“Lady, you’ll get your drink in a minute. I’m trying to deal with something here.” Not-Mac is annoyed.
“So, you don’t have any ID.” Salinger has on his I’m-about-to-win smirk.
“I used a fake name,” Not-Mac admits.
“He’s embarrassed, or he’s planning something shady,” Salinger tells the barista.
She’s really trying hard not to bury her face in his neck and breathe in that intoxicating smell of him. I know this because that was me earlier, in the car.
“If you don’t have an ID, then it’s not your drink,” the barista says to Not-Mac.
Not-Mac is incensed. “My drink? I paid for it!”
“Do you have a receipt?” the barista asks Salinger .
“Me? Don’t I look like a Mac?” Salinger swipes off his sunglasses and give the barista a smoldering, panty-dropping look.
She nods slowly. “Yeah, you’re definitely a Mac. Enjoy your drink. It’s my favorite, nice and creamy and a little bit salty.”
Salinger licks his lips. “I’ll try not to spill it. Don’t want to waste a single drop.”
This man.
“Have a beautiful day,” he purrs, winks, then saunters past the man whose coffee he just stole.
I trot after him. “You can’t do that.”
Salinger plucks the last straw out of the dispenser.
I refuse to accept the drink he holds out. “Oh my gosh, you need to give that back. I can’t believe this! I’m an accessory to a crime. Also, Pepper didn’t get her Puppuccino, so we have to stand in line anyway.”
Wordlessly, he holds up a whipped-cream-filled cup.
“Where did you…” I look around wildly.
“Don’t ask.”
“Remind me to never play poker with you.”
“Yeah, bad idea. You’d lose your shirt.” He smirks and slips on the sunglasses. “Come on—you know you’re craving something creamy and salty.” He waves the oversized cup at me.
I really shouldn’t, but I need that coffee. I take it from him and suck down the sweet liquid greedily.
His mouth is slightly parted as he watches my lips pop off the straw.
“I hope you’re not waiting on me to say ‘thank you,’ because I won’t.”
“Oh my god.” Jess’ s eyes narrow when I set my empty Starbucks cup on my desk and dump my purse on the floor. “That’s a man’s shirt.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Is that where you were yesterday, getting laid? Good for you. Who’s the guy?”
“Uh…” I try desperately to think of a response.
“Did you take a picture? Is he hot? Is he huge?”
“We didn’t actually...” My stomach flip-flops as Salinger appears next to me.
“I need to talk to Jeffrey’s team about the Zenith Tech account. Can you send the summary file to my tablet?” His fingers briefly blink-and-you’ll-miss-it adjust the collar of the shirt at the back of my neck.
But Jess doesn’t miss anything.
“Sure thing, Mr. Svensson.” I ignore my friend and turn back to face my computer, sending the file to his tablet as he stalks back into his office.
Jess’s fingers dig in my arm. “That’s Salinger’s shirt.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Where were you last night?”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Oh my god.” Jess claps her hands over her mouth. “You slept with him. You slept with our boss.”
“No, no, no, no. Lies and baseless rumors. Nothing happened. Nothing at all.”
“You spent the night in that man’s house, and nothing happened?” She raises an eyebrow.
I can’t stop chewing on my lip. “Fine, he kissed me but—”
Jess shrieks and slaps her hands over her mouth again.
“I think he was… I don’t know, having some sort of psychotic break or something,” I say. “Like, a normal man doesn’t kiss his assistant then tell her he’s going to fuck her on the floor.”
Jess is staring at me, her mouth hanging open so far I can see her fillings.
“Especially not Salinger. He’s…” I gesture helplessly toward his office. “You know how he is. He’s told me explicitly that he’d never want to… you know…”
“Do the nasty with you? Let your clam clamp around his all-beef hot dog? Make a butt baby?”
“No! Never.” My face is burning up just from hearing her say the words. “Why are you so enthusiastic? You’re the one who’s always saying what a terrible bully he is.”
“I’m not saying you need to marry him or date him,” Jess argues. “You’ve been really stressed and down lately. Use him! Like a job perk. You’ve earned it after what he’s put you through.”
“I think it’s just the winter weather,” I lie. I need another coffee. This is too much stress. “If Salinger asks, tell him I’m making copies or something.” I check his schedule. “He’s supposed to be in a meeting for the next few hours. Plenty of time to make it to Starbucks and back.”