Page 2 of Boss's Red Glare

“The barbecue?” I say tentatively, as if I haven’t been stressing about this for two weeks straight.

Connor nods, expression severe. “Correct. The Fourth of July company barbecue—one of the most crucial events this year.”

“I thought that was the Christmas party,” I say before I can stop myself.

His jaw tenses. "They're all crucial, Maisie. Each one is an opportunity."

“Right. Of course. Opportunity. Synergy. Bandwidth.” I catch his annoyed glare and clear my throat. “Sorry, sir. Nerves.”

He crosses his arms, making those biceps flex distractingly beneath the fabric of his perfectly tailored shirt. “Well, you're going to need to pull yourself together. The new investors will be there, and I can't have you sprinting around like a startled deer."

I smile brightly. “Understood. No deer-sprinting.”

He eyes me suspiciously, and for a brief moment, the corner of his mouth curls up again before he tamps it down. “Good.”

We stand in silence for an awkward beat before he clears his throat. "Do you have everything prepared?"

I glance around my desk. “Mentally, physically, or emotionally?”

His stare remains impassive. "Professionally."

“Absolutely, sir. Totally prepared.” I tap a random stack of papers confidently. "Fully organized."

He glances at the documents skeptically. "Those are take-out menus, Maisie."

I glance down, cringing internally. "Well, that explains why Accounting didn’t find the meeting notes very useful yesterday."

Connor exhales heavily, the universal sound of exasperated bosses everywhere. “Just…get it together, okay?”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” I salute awkwardly. “Anything else?”

He pauses, his gaze assessing me thoughtfully. “Bring a change of clothes.”

“Excuse me?” My heart trips over itself. What exactly does he have planned? Surely I haven't just stumbled into one of those weird romcom scenarios.

He rolls his eyes. “For the barbecue. You have a coffee stain on your shirt. Unless you intend to meet our new investors while looking like you had a fistfight with Starbucks.”

“Oh.” Relief floods through me. Of course, this isn't some romantic comedy. This is reality—my reality—where the onlysparks flying are from friction caused by Connor’s perpetual irritability. “Right. Of course. Thanks.”

He turns, already walking away. “Be ready by noon, Maisie. And please…try not to destroy anything else today.”

I nod, even though he's no longer looking at me. “You got it, boss.”

As he strides down the hall, perfectly pressed slacks and annoyingly broad shoulders on full display, I drop into my desk chair and groan into my hands. Being around Connor Bradford every day is hazardous to my emotional health, not to mention my pride.

Too bad the man is such a grump. A moody, tyrannical boss with the temperament of a bear disturbed mid-hibernation. Because if he weren’t so…well, Connor-ish, I might have admitted—at least to myself—that I find him painfully attractive.

But he is Connor-ish. Very Connor-ish.

“Keep it professional, Maisie,” I mutter aloud, straightening my take-out menus as though they hold the keys to my salvation. “Focus on not getting fired.”

Today is going to be a long day. Possibly disastrous, definitely chaotic.

But maybe it might also end up being a tiny bit spirited, too.

2

Connor

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