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I see her struggle and buckle under his weight, but her tenacity and stubbornness keep her from falling. I shake my head, unimpressed by the lengths she would go to prove a point. Not just here but also at work.
There cannot be two people calling the shots, but Harper Quinn hasn't realized that she might be an independent contractor, but she's working for me until this project is done.
"You hear that, Bucky?" she speaks to her dog, but her voice is loud enough to attract another jogger who takes a look at us, shrugs, and continues on his run.
I should do the same.
"This big man here is afraid of you." Her next sentence keeps me from leaving. And the look on her face—subtle mocking with a slight head shake. "You're just a big baby, that's all, and everyone knows it.”
“You think he's scared of dogs or everything in general?"
What…me?
I do a double-take at that. "I am not scared of anything, but when a two-hundred-pound dog comes charging my way because the owner doesn't know proper etiquette when handling an animal, I have reason to be cautious."
"You hear that, Bucky?" Harper says to the dog, but I know she's talking to me again. "The big man just said that your owner is irresponsible. That she shouldn't have a pet if she doesn't know how to take care of one.”
“Am I a bad mommy, Bucky?"
Wait… I didn't say that.
I groan, scrubbing my face when I realize she's doing it to torment me. I roll my eyes in exasperation and, leaving owner and dog behind, take off.
It doesn't put the encounter out of my mind, though, as I keep thinking about the fear in my heart when I saw that dog coming at me. Yes, he was wagging his tail but still… The thoughts keep me company from the time I get in the shower until I get to work.
And by the time I exit my car outside the building, there is a smug smile on my face. If Harper Quinn wants to play ball, then bring it on—I don't plan on letting her off easy.
***
"Sir," she says as she walks into my office, carrying a file.
I ignore her greeting, keeping up my pretense of typing on my laptop while I figure out how to repay her for this morning.
"Sir," she gets to my desk and drops the file. "This is the summary of the protocols currently under simulation for the sensor systems."
I count to five Mississippi, and then I close my laptop screen, staring at her with implied boredom and disinterest on my face.
"I see. I'll go through them. Thank you."
There is no trace of the earlier cheekiness on her face, and if anyone were to walk in, they'd think, with her power suit, well-styled hair, and high heels, that she's an excellent employee.
That Harper Quinn isn't an undercover menace.
She nods. "Okay."
I wait for her to get to the door, flipping the pages loud enough they make noise before I call her name. She stops and turns.
"You need me to approve this, right?"
"That is correct, sir."
That is correct? Who speaks like that in this day and age?
Tongue in cheek, I shake my head. "And you need my approval to move forward?"
She nods.
The corner of my lips rises in a devious smile. "Well then, you might have to wait a bit more."
