Page 55 of Love, Luck & Clusterf*ck

I ran my hand through my hair. Fuck, I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. I definitely didn’t want to admit that what I felt when I saw the way she acted with others, the way others acted with her, was something akin to jealousy.

“And while the policies were made for a reason, I’ll admit that I seemed to be imposing them a bit harder on you. The thing is, Perry, I want us to get along. I want us to be friends. You’re very guarded with me, and that’s not how you are with everyone else. Yes, I understand that you’re reporting to me at the moment, but I don’t want that to change how you express yourself. If I piss you off, I want you to tell me, okay? You wouldn’t take that shit from anyone else, so why do it with me?”

I pulled down her street, wishing I hadn’t let so much time lapse in silence earlier. But what if I did have more time? What would I say? I needed to be careful. I couldn’t explain how she’d captured my interest from that first night, how I’d been trying to sort through feelings I shouldn’t be having over a connection I didn’t understand.

It should’ve been simple. I was her boss, and she was unavailable. End of story.

I hit a bump when I pulled into her lot, and she bolted straight. “Hey, we’re here,” she said. Had she fallen asleep? And when? “Um, thank you for the ride.”

“You’re welcome. Can I see your phone for a sec?”

“Why?” Her face looked blank. “Did you lose yours?”

“No, I want to send myself a text so I have your number. I’d like to check on you tomorrow and see how you’re doing.” I could easily get her number from work, but I wanted her to be fully apprised of what I was doing. If she didn’t want me to have it, she could tell me no.

“But why?” She handed over the phone as she said it and I smiled.

“Because that’s what friends do.”

“Friends?”

Man, she seemed out of it. I gave her phone back after I’d finished. “Yes, Perry.” I guess I could safely assume she’d missed that section of my talk. “From now on, I’d like us to interact as friends. You’re doing a great job, and I want you to look forward to coming into work every day. If anything I do bothers you, I don’t want you to hesitate to speak out just because of who I am. I’m officially calling a truce. Sound good?”

I stuck out my hand, and she stared down at it. I was walking a slippery slope here, I realized that. One that could easily take me down hard. But I could handle it. I was being sincere. I had a strong need to get to know her better, but I had to do it in a way that wouldn’t fuck up her life. Any part of it.

“Truce,” she finally said.

She placed her hand in mine and the contact affected me. I wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. But I shook it, and then I let go.

I offered to help her to the door, but she refused. I judged her ability to walk on her own by the way she’d exited the truck. When I was satisfied that she was doing much better than before, I waited until I saw her go inside. Then I waited a bit longer.

I rested my head on the seat. Maybe I should’ve gone with her to ask for the necklace back. I had a feeling I was going to need that luck a hell of a lot more than she would.

Well, that was… bizarre.

I let myself in the front door, wondering if I’d missed something. I was pretty sure I’d dozed off a while in his truck, but I think I got the gist of it. He’d apologized—apologized!—and then declared a truce. I was just happy that I didn’t have to question my job status anymore. I didn’t need the worry this weekend on top of getting ditched for some fish.

Surprisingly, the rest of the night had gone well anyway. There’d been enough distractions to keep my mind off everything. And Stephen?Holy shit. That had been an unexpected sharp turn I’d never seen coming. If he wanted to be friends, I could be friends. It would make work a hell of a lot easier. I just wish I hadn’t liked his handshake so much.A fucking handshake. Get a grip.

I steadied myself against the wall. My head was still bobbing, but at least now it was partially above water instead of submergedcompletely. I was nowhere near sober yet, but I could walk without help. That was a bonus.

“Fucking asshole!”

“Christa?”

“Perry! Ohmigod, he’s such a fucking asshole!” she screamed-slurred at me from the other room.

I trudged through the kitchen, wondering if anyone else was there. Did I need to call the cops? I heard a thud and then a yelp.

“Ow! Fucking dickwad! His balls need to be blenderized.”

I peeked in to see her alone, stumbling around and kicking furniture. An open bottle of liquor was on the coffee table.

“You’re drunk,” I said, looking at myself in the mirror. Wait, wrong person. I shifted my eyes to her. “You’re drunk,” I said again. “And mad. What’s the matter?”

She teetered over and put her hands on my shoulders. “You need to get drunk with me.”

“Already am.”

---