Page 15 of Bobby

“Yes. She even brought it to school this morning.” She smiles at the mention of her girl, but it withers away as she looks down at her food.

She sighs, shaking her head. “The only issue now is that the jerboa she made out of a toilet paper roll yesterday fell on the sidewalk, and someone stepped on it.” She shakes her head and pastes a smile on her face as she looks up at me with a small shrug. “Thankfully, we have time to remake it, as it’s not really due for another month during the ‘meeting with the experts.’”

“Why did she bring it in so early if it wasn’t due yet? And who stepped on it?” How quickly I go from a semi-casual tone to something darker shocks her based on the look on her face. Not fear, but almost amazement. She’s probably wondering if I learned it or was born with it.

“Um, just someone walking by. Our bus broke down, and we had to walk the last few blocks. New York is known for many things but not wide sidewalks. And the displays were due early, but she still has to write up the report that they’ll do in class together. Trust me, she has time. I already sent her teacher an email after it happened to get her an extension. She understood, as she was late for work herself because of another bus.”

Willow laughs to ease the tension, but I don’t find it funny. Instead, I pull out my phone and let Marco know we’ll be leaving early today so we can escort her and the girls home safely. Overstepping? Maybe. Do I care? No.

She takes a sip of her coffee, licking her bottom lip as she sets the cup down. She’s focused on her own thoughts and doesn’t see me gazing at her lips, wondering if they’ll taste like coffee or something more addictive.

“What did you want to see me for, Mr.—” My eyes snap to hers. Not in a glare but narrowing just a twinge. “Bobby.”

“Better,” I grunt with a nod.

I wipe my mouth with the corner of a napkin, stalling for a second. I like hearing her say my name. She found a way to keep from saying it on Saturday for most of the night, but I intend to hear more of it from her this week. I push my seat back to rest my arms on the chair.

“I wanted to say thank you. With your diligent work, we were able to stop the embezzlement.”

“Was it Mr. Folly?”

I nod as I sip my coffee.

I suspect she saw the arrest, considering Marco said he’d found her at her desk. I also suspect that she had the same thought about him being involved in it when we first spoke about it on Saturday. Willow isn’t someone who would dismiss the obvious or struggle to make assumptions based on the evidence in front of her.

“Was it just him?”

This has me adjusting once more in my seat. I push my empty plate farther from the edge and rest my forearms on top of the table. “No. He was only one of three that we know of. I suspect there are more, but until we speak with him under different circumstances, he’s not giving us anything else.”

Does she think I mean the police station? That I’m going to let some cops interrogate him and not my team? Has she heard the rumors about me and my family name? Is she worried about being tied to someone connected to the Mafia? Either she doesn’t know or doesn’t care. Only two options explain why she let me get close to her girls.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And I can tell she’s genuinely upset on my behalf that someone stole from my company.

“You really are something else,” I let my words slip out, knowing I said them for her to hear and wanting her to know that’s how I see her. That she’s different from most people, and I’m not against it.

She tilts her head down, and my lips tip up at the corner as her cheeks redden.

“I’m giving you a job.” I stand and grab both our empty plates, then walk to the trash can to dispose of them.

“Sir?”

I turn back and fold my arms across my chest as I perch on the half-shelf that covers most of my walls. I like looking out at everything, but I also like to have a place to sit when I feel the need to.

“Bobby.” I pause long enough to let her know I caught that she used my title and not my name. I prefer to hear my name from her lips rather than some silly word everyone uses for anyone these days. “And I think you’ve proven yourself well enough to take on a bigger role. Unless full-time isn’t something you want.” If she can’t because of her kids, I won’t force her. I’ll still give her the bonus I plan to, and a pay increase, but I won’t put more on her plate if she can’t handle it without sacrificing her time with the girls.

“Full-time would be a dream, but I still need to make arrangements to drop off and pick up my kids before I can agree to anything.” She speaks like she’s in Wonderland and isn’t sure if she should believe what’s in front of her or not.

I silently commend her on thinking quickly and recognizing that a full-time position comes with a change in hours. I’m a stickler for hours. I’ve fired a few people for not showing up when they should or not staying for the full time required. I don’t make exceptions.

Though something tells me I might for her.

I bow my head to her in understanding. “Of course. I would also recommend looking over the new contract and thinking on it before you agree to the terms.” I wave off my own words and feel like an idiot for saying them. It might seem like I’m trying to hint that I added something I shouldn’t have or that I’m patronizing her. Neither is my intent.

“Forgive me.” I hold up my hand, halting her from speaking as I close my eyes and shake my head before looking back at her. “Habit. I usually have to remind my brothers to read before signing something. More than once, they’ve gotten us into some crazy shit because they missed the fine print. I remind everyone of it constantly without thinking that they already do so without my advice.”

“I was going to say thank you for the reminder. I tend to get caught up in the moment sometimes, especially when something sounds amazing. It’s how I wound up with six credit cards when I was twenty for all that elusive store credit only to end up in debt.” Her smile is genuine and warms part of my soul.

She and her girls keep doing that. I never thought I was an unfeeling monster or anything, but until they came into my life, I never felt this heat inside me before. It’s not heartburn. I’ve checked. Nor is it a heart attack. It’s a warmth in my chest, and the only way to describe it is like something frozen finally thawing out. Like a heating pad slowly turning on.