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I try to recall my exact words.
I called him a monster.
Ack!
I also called him stylishly dressed, at least. Didn’t I say something about his smile, too?
Maybe he’ll appreciate the compliments.
Slowly, with cheeks burning, I lift my head from my hands. I keep my gaze pinned down at first. His leather boots greet me, laces only halfway up, tongues poking out.
I slowly let my eyes crawl up, dreading every second of it.
Tapered black pants.
Black T-shirt.
There’s the long necklace over his muscular chest.
Flannel shirt, collar popped.
Chiseled jawline. He’s not smiling. Nope. That is a scowl on his perfect lips. His eyebrows—nicely shaped, I see—are lowered with displeasure.
Good lord, make this day end.
He crosses his muscular arms over his broad chest and drills his brown-eyed gaze into me like twin laser beams. His look is sharp, lively, and?—
Is that…
Wait.
Could it be?
I think there’s the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. That could be wishful thinking on my part, though. For the most part, he looks stern and… well, terrifying.
The sparkly pink cell phone on the edge of my desk rings again.
Lizzy nudges my side. I know what the nudge means: Answer it.
She’s right, in that motherly way she has. That HR, capable, practical, sensible mode of operating that she has impresses me. I wish I had some of her common sense. I really do. But most of my life is spent in moments exactly like this. Me, floundering. Me, making mistakes. Me, wishing for a do-over.
I dread taking the call with my boss looming over me like this.
But I have to.
Brock is the founder of this company, and he pays me. He also drills into all of us employees that we are a team and help one another out. So what if this is the executive assistant’s phone? I am an employee of this company, and a phone is ringing.
I snatch up the pink-cased cell and hold it to my ear. “Hello, Epic Elevate, this is Gwen Temple speaking. How can I help you?”
I see Lizzy release her breath out of the corner of my eye. She nods at me, and I can tell that the subtle gesture is meant to be encouraging.
Inside, though, I’m still freaking out.
Monster…
Yep. Definitely just called my cool, hip boss a monster, pretty much to his handsome face.
“Where’s Mandy?” the twenty-ish-sounding male on the other end of the line asks.
