Page 36 of Grumpy Boss of the Year

“My dad’s a businessman and?—”

“When you’re a successful businessman, you kind of just work a lot. So, your dad’s very successful, huh?” I stare at her for a couple of moments, wondering how much she knows about her father’s business.

“Yeah, I mean, he paid my way through my school, he paid for my apartment, and he pays for me to live now. He also pays for Romeo and my aunts. He does really well. He's very rich.” She glares at me. “Far richer than you, I'm sure.”

“I am sure,” I say, nodding solemnly. “And what is it that he does for a living?” She stares at me for a couple of moments, and a puzzled expression crosses her face, an expression that I can't quite understand or read.

“It doesn't matter,” she says. “Did I tell you that I like painting?”

She’s trying to change the subject, I think to myself, and I wonder why. She’s volunteered a piece of information that I don't think she would volunteer unless she was feeling uncomfortable. She feels uncomfortable talking about her dad with me. I grow cold for a second. I wonder what she knows. I wonder if she knows anything or has any inkling, but there's no way that she can. There’s absolutely no way.

“What kind of art?” I ask her. I pull out my phone and look at the GPS. “By the way, just in case your feet are feeling tired, we’re about six blocks away.”

“I’m fine,” she says. “I walk in heels all the time, and I go to the gym a lot, so this is not hurting me whatsoever.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear that you’re in such good shape.” I wink at her. Mmeans you can last all night long.”

“Liam, I already told you we’re not.”

“Sorry.” I hold up my hands. “Just kind of hard being with someone like you and not making suggestive comments.”

“So, what? You can’t help yourself from making suggestive comments with every attractive woman you’re with?

“Um, that’s not true. Maybe there’s just something in the connection that we have that makes me enjoy teasing you.”

“Yeah right,” she says. “Anyway, I like to do watercolor, but I'd like to get into oil painting. I don't know why I haven't. I think I was waiting to go to Italy and train with some masters, and when the opportunity arose, I didn’t want to take it because I didn’t want to leave Skye, and I knew she couldn't afford to go and spend so much time in Italy. Now, I guess, maybe this summer, that opportunity will be there and—” She pauses. “I’ll have a summer of leisure, painting, dancing, and whatever.”

“That sounds fun. Is that something your dad is doing for you?”

“Yeah, my uncle has a place in Florence, and as you may know, it’s the heart of art in Europe.”

“I think Parisians would argue with you about that. They love art there as well.”

She shrugs. “It’s one of the hearts of art in Europe,” she says. “Anyway, it’s complicated.”

“What’s complicated?”

She stares at me for a couple of seconds and shakes her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“What wouldn’t I understand?”

“Oh my gosh, get the hint, Liam. I don't want to talk about it with you.”

“Oh, that’s all you had to say. So, you still haven’t told me your favorite book,” she says. “All we know is it’s notHarry Potter.”

“You were close. It's theLord of the Rings Trilogy.”

“Oh, how did I not guess another man loved JRR Tolkien.”

“Well, he is one of the greatest writers to ever live.”

“I suppose,” she says. “I mean, if I'm honest, I couldn't get into his books.”

“So, what’s your favorite book?”

“My favorite book...” She stares at me. “MaybeCinderella. It’s this cool little story about this orphaned little girl whose father marries an evil woman, and she has evil stepsisters, and she wants to go to the ball to meet Prince Charming.”

“Oh, and are you Cinderella in this story?” I ask her as we make a left.

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