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Everyone seems to want his attention and his time, but to get to him, they have to go through me first.
And the even more challenging part—the part that is hard to own up to—is that I am right there with everyone else. I want Brock’s attention. I want it all to myself.
Even while I’m swearing up and down to myself that I won’t stand that close to him ever again, that is what I secretly want: to stand that close to him again. No—to be closer.
I want to be very close to my hot boss.
So close there is not one inch of space between us.
That is incredibly wrong to think about, so I try not to. But trying to force thoughts about Brock out of my head only makes the fantasies flare up.
What would it be like to feel his lips against mine? To feel his arms around my waist, pulling me in…
I bet he is a fantastic kisser.
I bet he’s intense and passionate, and I bet one kiss from him would turn my whole world upside down—in the best way. I bet his lips are soft, warm, and delicious.
This is crazy. I tug at that loose strand of hair, close the messaging app, and push the phone away.
Clay’s watching me.
“You sure you’re doing okay, with your new butler duties?”
I scoff as though I’ve got it all under control. “I’ll manage.”
“Don’t let him jerk you around.”
I nod. “Right. I won’t.” I stand to give Clay a quick hug.
When he goes, I bury my head in my hands.
I am letting Brock jerk me around.
No—worse. I’m letting my own emotions toward Brock jerk me around.
My own heart.
Clay was right last night when he hinted that I was like a puppet getting yanked around by the strings.
My crush is messing with my ability to think straight. I’m at the mercy of my beating heart, which now goes wild every time I even look at the sparkly pink phone—because some part of me wonders if there will be a new text there from him.
The phone beeps.
My head snaps up out of my hands. On autopilot—propelled by these pesky fangirl emotions—I snatch it up.
Is it Brock?
I smile when I see his name.
Brock: Hey, I need you to come by the podcasting studio for a sec.
He needs me.
It’s so crazy how that simple sentence floods me with giddiness.
As I sit there, reading the text a second time and feeling flooded with happy jitters, I know without a doubt that I’m falling—head over clogs—for my boss.
Chapter 11
