“I’ve got your back, Penny!” My least favorite voice chimes in, his stupid head reemerging over the side of my cubicle again like a zit I just can’t quite get rid of. “Plus, I’m bringing my girlfriend, so you’ll have somebody to talk about manicures and purses with.”
Cue my teeth grinding together.
Manicures and purses? Are you freaking kidding me?
If our boss weren’t standing approximately two feet away, I’d have a few choice words for Spencer about that sexist remark. Instead, I bite the inside of my cheek and manage to force out the words, “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“What about you, Penelope?” David narrows his eyes at me from behind his coffee mug. “Are you flying solo this weekend?”
I straighten up in my chair, tucking a strand of loose hair into the low bun at the nape of my neck. “Actually, I’ll be bringing along a plus-one.”
“Really?” His head cocks to the side ever so slightly. “Who would that be?”
My stomach drops to my kneecaps. Shoot. I should have thought this through ahead of time. My shoulders slouch, and I desperately hope my boss doesn’t notice the heat creeping across my cheeks.
What do I say? Well, my brother’s roommate volunteered to come along so I can keep up with the sausage fest. That’s not going to work.
Say something, Penelope. Say anything at all.
“My boyfriend.”
Okay, anything but that.
David’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. Honestly, I’m as surprised as he is.
Boyfriend? Where did that come from? Can I take those words back and try again? Just kidding, everyone. I’m actually not bringing a plus-one with me after all. Ha-ha, got you good!
Unfortunately, it’s too late for that. David’s lips are already curling into a satisfied smile, which means one thing and one thing only. I’m totally screwed.
“Boyfriend? I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”
“Of course I do,” I say, enthusiastically digging my own grave. “Haven’t I mentioned him before?”
“You haven’t,” Spencer says from behind me. “Not even once.”
“Well, you know me.” I shrug, focusing on the folder icons on my computer screen to avoid any semblance of eye contact. “I like to keep my work and personal life separate when I can.”
“What’s his name?” Spencer asks with a suspicious edge to his voice.
“Wolfie. Short for Wolfgang. But no one calls him that,” I say pointedly. No way am I letting this asshole’s bad reputation with nicknames carry over to my guest.
“Wolfie, huh?” David takes another long, slow sip of his coffee.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to call me on my bluff. But he doesn’t.
Instead, he gives me a firm, approving nod. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
And just like that, my boss disappears off to his office. Spencer ducks back into his cubicle, leaving me alone to try to figure out when I became such a big fat liar.
It’s not like me to be dishonest, but the words just tumbled off my tongue. It was easy, natural even, to say that Wolfie and I are something more than friends.
Maybe it’s because that’s a reality I’ve considered more than once. Not that I’ve ever told that to anyone other than hinting at it to my best friend, Scarlett. Though I did write freely about my attraction to Wolfie in my journal.
If those well-worn pages could talk, they’d tell you that I’ve spent more than one sleepless night fantasizing about all the dirty things I’d like that man to do with me. If Connor ever flipped through those pages, he’d be calling up all the local convents to see if they’re accepting new nuns.
But feelings aside, there’s something deep in my gut that says this whole thing might be a happy accident. After all, Wolfie is exactly the kind of man David takes a liking to. A man’s man. Someone straightforward and loyal. If my boss thinks I’m dating someone so serious, maybe he’ll think higher of me. It’s gross to say, but it’s a man’s world here at Douglass and Associates, and it just might take a man by my side to help me move up in the ranks.
My computer dings, pulling me out of my daze and straight into my inbox. These twenty-three unread emails make it quite clear that it’s time to put the personal stuff aside for a while. There’s work to do, and lots of it, so I gulp down the golf-ball-sized lump in my throat, pop in my earbuds, and get down to it.
Unfortunately, I only power through thirty minutes of solid work before a tap on my shoulder interrupts me. It’s Carol from accounting, better known as the office gossip machine. Her hands are planted on her hips, a big mischievous smile beaming on her round face.
“Is there something you need to tell me?”
I tug out my earbuds, my brows drawing together in confusion. “Um, I don’t think so. Did I forget to do my expense report?”
