“And I see that you woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“More like the wrong side of the carpet.”
There’s a pause and then I realize what that sounds like. Not that I have anything against ladies who like ladies, but…Jesus. I’ve been embarrassing myself since I met him two years ago when his father hired me.
“What I mean is that I fell off my bed, face first.”
“Were you drinking last night?”
“No. Why? Wait, that’s not any of your business.” But still. “I wasn’t drinking last night.”
“Did you set up the meeting with Patterson this morning?”
Oh, for freak’s sake. If he were here, I would throw a pen at him. It’s not like I haven’t done that before. “I texted you about it last night.”
“Hmm.”
What the fuck does that mean? I wait, because I hear him click clacking on his computer keyboard. I lay my head down on the carpet as I calculate the hours until Allison Brady’s bachelorette party. I haven’t been out to party in months and I need this. My best friend Nancy had wanted to go out this past Saturday night, but I decided to stay home and catch up on Hawaii Five-O. And you can judge me all you want, but I like some man candy while I watch shows, and McGarrett fills that bill nicely—even if he doesn’t wear khaki pants anymore. It has nothing to do with my nine-month long dry spell. Okay it does, as does my disappointment in my Friday night date. I actually skipped watching 5-0 live because of it. Jason had been nice enough, gorgeous, but I had been bored to tears. My one-sided date with McGarrett was more stimulating than dinner with Jason.
“Oh, there it is.”
I grit my teeth, then force myself to unclench my jaw before speaking. “So, can I go, or do you need to confirm more crap that’s in your calendar?”
“One of these days, I might fire you.”
And one of these days, I might just set him on fire and roast marshmallows. I blink. That escalated quickly. I tend to get a little violent in my thoughts when I go a long time without getting any.
“Is there anything else?”
“No. I’ll see you when you finally make it into the office.”
Then the line goes dead. I drop my phone and grind my teeth. Finally make it into the office? Fucker. I work a lot of hours, more now that he’s in charge of Hawthorne Enterprises. I get it. He wants to prove to his father that he’s dedicated to the business. I just don’t know how much longer I could take this schedule. I thrive on challenges, and I get why this is so important to Grady, but a girl needs a break every now and then. Thankfully, Thursday will give me a chance to let loose. I only have to hold out until then.
After a quick run and a long shower, I slap on some makeup and get dressed. I would rather put on my rattiest yoga pants and one of my brother’s old shirts and slip back into bed. Instead, I step up to my closet and peruse my offerings. I like clothes. Like…a lot. My brother Travis and I didn’t have the easiest childhood. Our father disappeared around the time I was ten and Travis eight, leaving us with a mother who had mental health issues and a taste for the cheapest liquor. We went hungry more often than not, and I never had the chance to come into San Antonio to shop. Most of our clothes were second hand—which I don’t look down on—but it wasn’t easy growing up like that when your mother was known as the town loon.
Because of that, I have a hard-on for clothes. That’s what my best friend Nancy calls it, and it’s true. I get more excited by a well-cut blouse than I do over any of my recent dates. Okay, most of that might have been that they were all duds, but still. My love of clothes isn’t anything compared to my obsession with shoes. Like I would probably cut a bitch if she touched any of my favorite stilettos. From the moment I had my first decent check, I started collecting them. I have at least one pair from each of my favorite designers. I went a whole two months eating nothing but peanut butter sandwiches so I could afford my first Louboutin. Now I have five pair, including my favorite black boots.
I glance at them, and in an instant, I decide on my outfit for the day. I need to kick Monday’s ass, especially the way it started out. I grab a long black pencil skirt, a red blouse—it is the power color for a reason—and those boots. After a trip to the bathroom to contain my hair into a tight chignon, I get dressed, enjoying the power it gives me. Yeah, I know it makes me kind of materialistic, but I don’t care. Clothes are my drug of choice. One last look in the mirror and I smile. This buoys my spirits more than anything.
I walk in fifteen minutes early to work, a travel mug of coffee in one hand and my phone in the other. I scan through my emails, ignoring the three texts Grady sent me in the last ninety minutes.
“Good morning, Ms. Fillmore.”
I set my phone on my desk and toss a smile at the office manager Jared. That’s right. Grady has an executive assistant slash slave and an office manager. I tend to travel with him everywhere he goes for work because…well, for no other reason than he’s anal. Jared runs everything while we’re out and about and handles any issues dealing with the office at large. I am just the slave that has to deal with Grady up close and personal.
“Morning, Jared. How was your weekend?”
“Great. Went to see the new superhero movie.”
Oh, God, I miss movies. I used to go with Travis all the time, but in the last few months, he’s been out of town—which also means my bestie Nancy has been gone too since she’s his co-host— and, also, I’ve been busy.
“Good?”
He nods. “Mr. Hawthorne has been looking for you.”
“Yes, I have,” Grady says from the doorway. I look over at him and want to roll my eyes at the same time my lady parts are cheering. The man is as beautiful as he is irritating.
He’s dressed in his usual outfit of dress slacks, tailored to give his ass the best possible look, and a dress shirt. Today the combination of slate grey pants and ivory dress shirt—complete with a red tie—makes him especially attractive. But the one thing that always gets me and my ovaries cheering is that freaking vest. He doesn’t always wear them but when he does…GAWD. I know. It’s weird, but a well-dressed man in a vest makes my pussy tingle. His light brown hair has that mussed look that would probably take a normal man hours to achieve. His clear green gaze studies me as if he’s trying to come up with another complaint. Butthead.
“And here I am, early as usual.”
His eyes narrow, and he knows I just challenged him in front of Jared. “You didn’t answer my texts.”
I fight the urge to tell him to stick a rusted fork up his ass. “I was driving in. I thought maybe it was more important that I arrive alive.” Kind of a lie. The last two came after I had parked my car, but he doesn’t know that. “But, yes, I did get those contracts for the new facility outside of Denver. Oh, and I did contact the staff at the Denver house for the trip to inspect the facilities next week.”
Grady’s first real move as CEO is the creation of the Adventure Network, an offshoot from the At Home Network. It’s a big deal and I understand he wants to cross the t’s and dot the i’s. I just wish he would give us all a break. I also understand the importance of this move but give a girl a break here.