Bossed Page 4

  “I didn’t think he was going to give me the job or I probably would’ve let it slide.”

  “Okay, first, I see what you did there. Nice.” He nodded his head up and down. He was such a manboy. “Second, where did you learn baseball stats?”

  “From my dad. It was our thing after my mom left. We used to go to games and he taught me how to keep score. I was good with numbers even when I was a kid. Then we got into fantasy baseball.”

  “You play that shit?” Jill nudged me with her elbow.

  David glared in her direction. I couldn’t tell if it was because of the fantasy baseball jab or because he wanted to annihilate her sandwich. Probably a little of both.

  “Anyway.” He turned back to me, his eyes trained on Jill’s food for a moment longer before looking at me. “What did you correct him on? Seriously, that dude is like the Schwab. I’ve never seen him make a mistake.”

  “What is a Schwab?” Gina looked back and forth between David and me. Jill was in sandwich nirvana.

  Both of us turned and stared at Gina like she’d just asked who George Washington was.

  “He was a statistician for ESPN and had his own sports trivia show. People would come on and try to beat him at sports knowledge,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Oh, sorry.”

  I propped my elbows on the table. “Mr. Mason was telling me about the job and the analytical aspects. And he said George Brett hit .380 in 1980. I got up to leave because he’d pissed me off, and I let him know it was .390 as I walked out. He hired me right after that.”

  A wry smile formed on David’s face. “Impressive.”

  “Mr. Mason,” Jill scoffed. “You say his name like he’s your teacher.”

  “Sorry, what do you call him?” I watched her lick her fingers slowly after her last bite, purposely torturing David across the table.

  “Mase.”

  Gina cocked an eyebrow up and took a sip of her coffee.

  “Why?” I asked.

  She smiled like the devil and looked out the door and then back to us. “Because he makes everyone cry.”

  Gina choked on her coffee and her face turned pink. David held out his fist to Jill and they tapped knuckles before blowing it up.

  “Holy shit!” My hand shot over my mouth as I stared out into the bull pen of cubicles. I tried not to curse in the office, but it was difficult with this bunch. “Is that Matt Stallworth?”

  David didn’t even look up. “Probably. Him and Ethan go way back.”

  Everyone rose from the table. Jill and Gina threw their trash away and walked back toward their respective work areas. I glanced out at Matt and my heart could’ve given Secretariat a run for his money.

  “Really?” I asked.

  David grinned at me.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “What?”

  “Calm down, fangirl.”

  I chuckled. “Don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “They hang out all the time. Come on.” David patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll introduce you.”

  I tried to tamp down my excitement but it was a lost cause. Dad and I watched Matt play every chance we could and I always drafted him first for my fantasy team. He was a five-tool player and almost always led the league in every offensive category.

  They don’t make ’em like that anymore. Kid reminds me of Mickey Mantle, Dad would say.

  David must’ve sensed my reluctance because he grabbed me lightly by the arm and tugged me in that direction. “Come on. He’s super nice.”

  “Oh my God, you’re embar—”

  “Hey, Matty!” David released my arm and shook hands with Matt.

  I attempted to hide behind him in hopes the pink from my cheeks would magically disappear. I’d never met a professional ballplayer before, let alone the best one in the entire league.

  “Hey, good to see you.”

  David tried to sidestep to introduce me and I moved with him, staying hidden behind his dad-bod. Good God, Jenny. It didn’t help with the whole blushing thing I had going on. I’d had some pretty embarrassing moments in my life, and this topped all of them times infinity.

  “You okay back there?” Matt chuckled.

  I held my hand out to the side of David and waved. With every second I became more aware that I wasn’t in fact going to come out from behind David.

  A hand pressed up against my lower back. His hand. The hand that sent pebbles across my skin and nerves ricocheting through my limbs.

  “Shouldn’t you guys be working?”

  I glanced back to the face that made my brain short-circuit and sputter. It was sensory overload, and snark was how my body naturally combated being flustered. “We still have two minutes of our lunch break left.”

  In the week Ethan hadn’t been around, I’d missed looking at him. Now that his cocky smirk and gorgeous face were locked in my memory, I’d have preferred to ogle him from afar. He had a way of making my blood boil, until steam practically shot out of my ears.

  “Well, your desk is about a two-minute walk. So it’s probably time to head over, don’t ya think?” The billion-dollar (I guessed) fabric on his billion-dollar suit tightened against his arms when he crossed them across his chest. I felt the urge to trace my finger along his defined biceps, and decided that’d be a bad idea.

  “Hi, I’m Matt. Nice to finally meet you.” Matt held out his hand and I shook it without fully registering that I was shaking hands with the best baseball player of the last thirty years.

  Matt grinned at Ethan and Ethan’s stare hardened. I didn’t think it was possible, but apparently it was.

  “Lighten up, bro.”

  “Are you done? They have work to do.”

  His voice should’ve been against the law. Why couldn’t he be ugly or stupid? I guessed if he was stupid, he might not have owned a sports agency. A sports agency that employed me. But why couldn’t he be ugly? Or talk like Pee-wee Herman? And why did he have to be so damn good at being an assface?

  There was something going on between the two of them. I could tell by the way Matt kept smiling at Ethan, and the way Ethan looked like he was plotting Matt’s murder.

  “Wait, is she the one who schooled you in her interview?” Matt glanced to me. “Up top!” He held his hand out to high-five me.

  Ethan’s face turned tomato red, which both turned me on and simultaneously made my fingers tremble. Regardless, he’d seemed to enjoy jabbing me any chance he got, and I wasn’t going to pass up this moment.

  I fived Matt and let out a quick laugh. “Yep, that was me.”

  “Miss Jackson, to your desk. Now.”

  I turned back and Ethan’s jaw flexed. I could practically hear his teeth grinding against each other. The knife ripping through my gut told me to do what he said, but a lifetime of defiance was difficult to get past. Heat rushed into my face. Pride was a virtue that ran deep in my family, and it was sometimes a detriment. I had a good feeling it might get me fired shortly.

  “Excuse me?” My tone was anything but pleasant.

  People started to take notice and heads craned up over the walls of their workstations.

  Ethan’s face softened a bit, but even a child could see he was pissed off. “You have work to do.”

  I nodded and turned to Matt. “It was nice to meet you. I need to go study some batting averages now. In case my boss screws up.” My nose crinkled and I continued my mocking tone. “He does that on occasion.”

  Matt held a fist up to his mouth, trying to hold back a laugh. His cheeks were bright pink. I shot Ethan a “fuck you” glare and I made sure to sway my hips a little extra on the way to my desk—just to give Ethan a little something to stare at while I walked away.

  You are so fired, Jenny.

  Chapter 6

  Ethan Mason

  It’d been a few days since Matty came into the office, and I still couldn’t get the visual of Jenny rocking her ass back and forth in that skirt purged from my memory. Any other em
ployee I would’ve fired on the spot. I’d wanted to grab her by the arm, haul her into a conference room, and shove her up against the wall. I wanted to do unspeakable things to her for the way she challenged me. I had to figure out something—some way to deal with her. If I wasn’t careful the other employees would take notice of her special treatment and the way she back talked constantly. It was a real issue and not something I was willing to tolerate.

  I kept telling myself that hiring her was the right decision. Her performance was off the charts and she was incredibly intelligent. She was good for the agency, but she was hell for my dick. Every time I heard her voice I wanted to silence it with my mouth on hers.

  Get your shit together, Ethan.

  A knock at my office door jarred me from the dirty things I was doing to Jenny Jackson in my mind. “Come in!” The words came out far more harshly than I intended. I chalked it up to sexual frustration. Getting women to sleep with me wasn’t difficult, but the last few weeks had been the longest dry spell in history.

  Other women simply didn’t interest me. At all. It didn’t matter if I was at the bar or at the gym, all I saw was Jenny Jackson, and nothing else compared.

  I glanced to the door and fuck me if it wasn’t her. This wasn’t good. A half hour was needed to prepare for any encounters with her, to make sure I didn’t allow emotions to guide my decisions.

  “How can I help you, Miss Jackson?”

  As usual, I stared down at my desk. She needed to think she meant nothing to me other than an employee number and a progress report, and I didn’t trust myself to look at her.

  “First, I wanted to apologize about the other—”

  I cut her off mid-sentence and rolled my index finger in the air. “What do you need, Miss Jackson. Get to the point.”

  I didn’t look up, because looking up would most assuredly end up with me making a poor decision. It was better this way.

  I noticed her fidgeting with her hands, but I managed to have some semblance of willpower and refrained from moving my gaze to her face. I studied people for a living and the last time she messed with her hands in this manner, it was about her father.

  “Right. Well, it’s my dad. He’s sick.”

  I let out an exasperated sigh. In front of me on my desk sat ten contracts that I needed to go through, and all I saw in my mind were letters that formed the word “Jenny” all over them.

  “I’m really sorry to bother you, but I don’t have anyone else who can take care of him. My best friend—”

  “We don’t make excuses at my company. Nobody has time to listen to them. If you need to go, then go. Make sure the work is done on time.” I waved her away with my hand. My stomach lurched and I could practically feel the tears she was holding back.

  “Yes, sir.”

  She turned to the door and I was finally able to look up. Just let her leave, Ethan. Let her hate you.

  “Miss Jackson?”

  She stopped in front of the door, but remained silent.

  “Gina tells me you’re knocking it out of the park, and that we’re lucky to have found you. Keep up the good work.”

  She nodded and walked out of the office. It wasn’t like I wanted to fuck with her like that. Figuring out how to deal with Jenny was next to impossible.

  —

  I read over the same line of the contract for about the tenth time in a row. The clock on my computer read 8:04 p.m. Fuck. Anxiety rushed through my veins every time I thought about Jenny in my office earlier. It’d been six hours and I’d reviewed one contract. One! I still had five that needed to be ready by the end of the week.

  The past six hours had been torture for my brain. I’d hate myself for being so cold, then rationalize it any way possible. It’s what’s best for the company. You have other employees to think of. They all depend on you for a job. None of my excuses were the real reason I’d nearly made Jenny Jackson burst into tears in my office, but I couldn’t admit it to myself.

  Thirty minutes later I managed to get through another contract and belted out a huge sigh of relief. Two hours of work had taken eight. Eight fucking hours. What had I done to myself?

  I stood and walked over to the window in my office overlooking the bull pen. A janitor emptied trash bins, but the place looked cold and empty, quiet. The human resources manager’s office caught my eye and a burst of tingles shot across my skin.

  It was a bad idea, I knew this. There was no way I could relive another day like today though. Everything was Jenny this, Jenny that. She’d invaded every bit of me, and the more I tried to push her away, the more it amplified.

  I made my way down to the HR office, giving a nod to the janitor who wore headphones and bobbed her head. I’d have given anything to be her, to have just five minutes of clarity and carefree thoughts.

  My keys jingled as I unlocked the door. This is a bad idea, Ethan.

  I couldn’t have stopped myself if I tried. An L-shaped desk divided the room in half and along the back wall were the file cabinets I was after. Dodging a few files on the floor, I made my way over to them. The employee files were all locked up for security purposes, but being the boss meant I had a key for everything.

  I unlocked the top drawer labeled A through L, and thumbed through until I stopped on her file. There it was, Jenny Jackson, in bold black type on the lip of the file. The anxiety turned to adrenaline and my heart raced. Using information in the files for anything other than emergencies and business purposes was strictly forbidden. An employee’s personal life had no bearing on their work. The two were to be compartmentalized. These were rules that I had implemented for myself when I started the agency.

  Against my better judgment, I pulled Jenny’s file from the cabinet and set it on the desk. I stared at it for a moment that seemed an eternity. Nothing inappropriate had been done yet. I could still shove the file back in the drawer and no harm, no foul. Instead, I opened it up.

  There was nothing special about an employee file. Just personal information to make sure they were paid. My eyes darted down to her contact info, and a smile crept over my face when I saw the ten numbers on the line labeled “cellphone.”

  I punched them into my cell and replaced her file exactly as it had been. Having her number in my phone felt so wrong and so right at the same time. In a weird way I felt more connected to her, knowing I could talk to her with the press of a button.

  I made it back to my office and I was pretty sure the janitor hadn’t even seen me return. The contracts still covered my desk and I decided I could get at least one more done before heading home. I sat my phone off to the side and pulled out my yellow highlighter. Most people reviewed contracts on their computers, but I had to have the papers in front of me. Anyone else I’d probably scold for using paper and ink when it wasn’t necessary.

  Three lines into the document and I’d glanced to my phone at least twenty times. What would it hurt? Checking on an employee’s well-being was being a good manager, right? She’d been distraught and I had a duty to make sure that she was okay. The fact I just wanted to hear from her was an unintended benefit of doing what was right.

  After typing and deleting and typing some more, I hovered my finger over the send button. Don’t do it. Boundaries. I took in a huge breath and pressed the button.

  Me: How is your dad?

  I moved my gaze back toward my work when I saw three dots bouncing on the screen. My heart thumped against my rib cage, waiting for a reply.

  Jenny: Who is this?

  You didn’t even tell her who it was. Jesus.

  Me: Sorry, it’s Ethan.

  I wiped my palms down my slacks. A thin sheen of sweat formed across my brow and my mouth was dry as the Sahara. The bouncing dots started again and everything else in my office blurred into the background. I was locked in a staring competition with my phone.

  Jenny: Oh.

  Me: Sorry, I shouldn’t have texted.

  I clutched the side of my face and snaked my fingers through my hair a
nd down the back of my neck. This was stupid. She needed to fear me, hate me. I’d lose control of everything I’d worked for if I let her get under my skin, get the best of me.

  Jenny: It’s okay. He’s sick, but doing better. Thank you.

  My fingers flew across the keys before I had time to stop myself.

  Me: Good to hear. How are you?

  I should’ve asked when she’d be back at work. When I’d be getting a return on my investment. Because that’s what she needed to be for me, an investment. But she was more than that already.

  Jenny: I’m okay.

  The dots danced around again before I could type a response.

  Jenny: Is that really why you texted me?

  She was sharp, and it was what initially drew me to her. Her perceptiveness.

  No.

  Me: Yes.

  Jenny: I don’t believe you.

  Fuck.

  She couldn’t just go along with it. So straightforward and to the point. No bullshit. Could I do that? What would it mean for our work relationship? My fingers decided before my brain could intervene.

  Me: Why do you think I texted you?

  Jenny: Because you miss me.

  My heartbeat kicked up a notch or a hundred, palms sweaty, breaths shallow.

  Me: You wish, Jackson.

  Jenny: You’re a bad liar, Mason. Even when you’re texting. Night.

  Me: Night.

  My cock surged against my zipper. Fuck, this woman. What was she doing to me?

  Chapter 7

  Jenny Jackson

  The skyline grew larger in front of Kelsey and me when the red dots of brake lights peppered the view in front of us. It was the usual gridlock of cars and trucks trying to make their way into the city during the week. I was still getting used to the traffic. My old job had been in a smaller suburb. Kelsey worked for an independent book and record store downtown. It was super eclectic and cool and really just the perfect job for her. Vinyl records and books, her two favorite things in the world. She worked two days a week and helped take care of Dad on the other days when needed. I’d offered to pay her but she wouldn’t have it. He’s my dad too, yanno? was all that she’d say. I didn’t know what I’d do without her. She had a modest apartment and a trust fund that covered her other expenses. We’d never really discussed money much, despite being best friends. I always just went with it. If she wanted to tell me she would.