Page 5 of #Bossholes

“She quit after lunch. Apparently, we’re too demanding or some horse shit. I don’t know. The temp agency keeps sending us duds. This one refused to look me in the eye when I talked to her. I hate that shit. And she picked her nails.”

I barely resist rolling my eyes. Barely. “How annoying.”

“I know.” He leans back with a groan. “So, not only do we need to find her replacement, but we need to figure out how to get our current biggest client to shut her fucking mouth.”

Now may not be the best time for the mouthy legal secretary with sinful curves and a healthy appetite for chocolate chunk cookies to pop into my head, but here we are. I could suggest anyone for the job. Literally anyone, including our downstairs neighbor, the one with the lazy eye and always smells like meatballs.

But nope.

I glance out of the glass wall and into the office across from mine, and her fiery red hair is the only thing I can picture.

She’d be better than no one…right?

Ember and her flair for the dramatics isn’t a problem that I can fix today, but I might be able to rectify the secretary situation. To be clear, I shouldn’t.

She called the three of us emotional vampires, soul-sucking Dementors, and thanks to my teenage niece introducing me to the wonderful world of Harry Potter, I know exactly what that means.

And then there’s her. She’s attractive, a walking temptation I don’t need to see every fucking day when I come to work, but damn if she doesn’t make me a little bit of a sadist.

Which is bad. For me.

I should forget about her and move on with my life, let her hang out with the paralegals and associate lawyers two floors down. I should avoid the lunchroom and my favorite cookies. I should definitely not suggest her for this job or any job that requires her to work with me in any capacity, but?—

“There’s a new legal secretary downstairs I think would be a good fit. Miss Rhodes.”

Well, I can't take it back now. Especially not when Brantley’s eyes narrow again, and he assesses me for a good several seconds. “When were you downstairs?”

I straighten, clear my throat, and smooth a hand down my tie. “I went to the lunchroom today.”

“Ahhhh.” He nods, the corner of his lip twitching. “That explains it all. The cookies.”

“Fuck off. I don’t go down there for the cookies. I was meeting with Darren.” It’s not a total lie. Technically, he was in the lunchroom when I was down there.

“And this secretary? Was she at the meeting as well?”

“Of course not, but she comes highly recommended.”

Brantley scoffs, his brows raising as he assesses me. “Highly recommended from Darren Keller? The same Darren Keller who since the groping incident refuses to work with any female legal secretaries?”

Shit. I forgot about that. He was working late on a case, and there was coffee spilt and napkin dabbing. It was all fairlyinnocent. Well, except that the coffee spilt on his crotch, and Stacy tried to help before she realized what she was doing, and then Darren popped a boner.

“She didn’t work with him directly.” I try to stay casual, too casual maybe, so I quickly add, “What’s with the twenty questions? Do you want a legal secretary with experience, or would you rather I call up the temp agency and have them send over another nail picker?”

His mouth snaps shut, and he visibly shudders. “Have Mrs. Monroe prepare her paperwork and direct her to her new office first thing in the morning.”

“Consider it done. And I’ll reach out to Ember’s publicist and see if we can’t get something on the books.”

“Soon.”

“Soon.” I repeat with a nod. “You know, you’re not my boss, right? You, me, and your brother are all equal partners.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.” He quickly stands, tugging down the sleeves of his jacket, but before he can make it out the door, he glances back at me. “And if this secretary turns out to be a problem for you, you’re going to be the one who’ll have to fire her.”

I scoff again and run a hand down my face, then wrap it around the back of my neck. “There isn’t going to be a problem. She’s no different from any other employee.”

“Yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

“Fuck off, Brantley.” But he quickly deflects my quick-witted response with a raised brow, and then he’s gone.

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