Page 10 of Boss's Red Glare

She gasps, horrified. “Absolutely not! You’re meeting Connor for a coffee date—fake or not. You have to wear something cute.”

“It’s not a date,” I argue weakly.

“Maisie. Don’t argue. You’re wearing the yellow sundress with the daisies.”

I groan, throwing an arm over my eyes dramatically. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” she insists. “Trust me. That dress is adorable on you. Connor’s jaw will drop, guaranteed.”

I shake my head, laughing. “Fine. The yellow sundress it is.”

Charlene grins triumphantly. “Good. Now get some sleep—you have a hot fake-date meeting tomorrow.”

The next morning,my stomach feels like a nest of butterflies. I stand outside Lil Sweet Treats, our town’s cutest chocolate shop, clutching my purse nervously. Through the windows, I spot Connor at a small table near the back, already waiting. My heart flips stupidly. He’s dressed casually in a soft gray T-shirt and jeans, effortlessly gorgeous in the morning sunlight filtering through the windows. His dark hair is slightly tousled, eyes focused on his phone screen. I pause a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath.

He glances up, and our eyes lock. A slow, genuine smile spreads across his face, making my knees wobbly.

I walk inside, feeling like every eye in the café follows my movements—though in reality, I’m pretty sure it’s just my imagination. Connor rises slightly from his seat as I approach, offering a polite nod.

“Good morning, Maisie.” His voice is smooth, slightly husky.

“Morning,” I reply softly, slipping into the chair opposite him. I adjust the skirt of my sundress, feeling acutely aware of Charlene’s insistence on it. Connor’s eyes flick briefly downward, lingering just a second longer than necessary, before quickly returning to my face.

“Cute dress,” he says, voice neutral but eyes bright.

“Thanks.” I flush, fidgeting with the hem. “Charlene insisted.”

“Well, Charlene has good taste,” Connor murmurs, quickly clearing his throat. “Coffee?”

“Please,” I say gratefully.

He raises a hand, and a cheerful barista hurries over. We both order—black coffee for him, a vanilla latte for me. When the barista leaves, Connor leans back slightly, watching me thoughtfully.

“So,” he begins slowly, “we should probably discuss expectations for our…arrangement.”

“Right,” I say quickly, nodding. “Boundaries. Rules. Professionalism.”

He smiles faintly, amused. “Exactly.”

“First rule,” I say, holding up a finger, “no PDA beyond what’s absolutely necessary. No overly dramatic displays of affection.”

“Noted.” He nods, mouth twitching into a small grin. “No overly dramatic kissing scenes, then?”

I nearly choke, my eyes widening. “Definitely not.”

“Got it,” he says, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “Second rule?”

“Um, we stick to simple stories. Nothing too elaborate. Just dating casually, enjoying each other’s company, that sort of thing.” I say, my cheeks warm again.

Connor nods thoughtfully. “Simple, casual, believable. I like it.”

Our coffee arrives, and I cradle my mug gratefully, letting the comforting warmth ease some of my nerves.

He watches me a moment, his expression growing softer. “Are you sure you’re comfortable doing this? I don’t want you feeling pressured.”

My heart stutters slightly at his sincerity. “Connor, it’s fine. Honestly. I don’t mind.”

“Good,” he murmurs, relaxing visibly. He stirs his coffee slowly. “And we should probably agree on some basic facts. Like, how long have we been dating?”

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