Page 19 of Bobby

The man actually grins at my words. Okay, one corner of his lip rises, but I call it a win.

“Mr. Leone would like to offer you his car service to pick up the girls since it’s expected to rain today.”

“Is it?” I look at Missy, who shrugs as I pull out my phone to check the weather. But before I can even open the app, Marco puts his hand out and pushes my phone down.

“He also thought you might want to take a look at some programs Alfonso, his secretary, sent over earlier,” he says casually, but I don’t miss the wide eyes Missy is sending us. I choose to ignore it because I do want to look at the programs I highlighted as possibilities for the girls. And if there’s a car, that would make it easier to see so many in one day.

“Right. Let me just pack up.”

It’s only ten minutes earlier than I usually leave anyway. And with the specific request from Bobby, I almost feel like it would be an insult if I say no.

Besides, I didn’t pack for rain. And my new shoes? Definitely don’t want those to get wet.

I smile at Missy, waving farewell as I step in line with Marco and head to the elevators. My phone pings with a notification from my bank as we enter. I look at it out of habit and almost fall on my ass.

“Problem?” Marco asks as he looks at the concern on my face.

I shake my head and then nod but say nothing. He wouldn’t know why I just received a deposit of forty grand into my account. Men don’t do things like this without expecting something in return. And Marco won’t know what it is that I’m meant to do for it.

But his boss will.

Chapter 8—Bobby

I’m already in the car when she and Marco exit the building. I scan her appreciatively as she walks unknowingly toward me. Her stride is confident and steady, reminding me that I chose well for her gift. It wasn’t a bonus, like I said. I bought them Saturday night after leaving her place as a thank-you for the meal. But I knew she wouldn’t have accepted them so easily if I hadn’t said they were tied to the job.

The heels don’t create her exquisiteness—they accentuate it, making her legs look longer and slender, more than her tennis shoes ever did. When I saw her in them earlier, I had a harder time than I expected covering up my laugh. Not at her, but at the sheer joy of seeing she chooses comfort over discomfort.

The wind gusts around her, and for a second, I feel as if it’s a paid actor in the scene to make her look almost irresistible. Who am I kidding? She already is. She’s beautiful, and the more I spend time with her and learn about her, the more attractive I find her.

“Thank you, Marco.” She grins wide at him as she slides into the seat beside me. She sets her bag down and grabs her seat belt, only to jolt when she finally notices my presence. “Oh.”

Not the response I was expecting, but I’ll take it. Anything is better than “Dear God, not you.” Not that any woman has said that to me before, but even I’m man enough to admit I have some fears. Few, of course, but being rejected by this woman beside me is one of them.

“Mr. Leone—I mean Bobby. What are you doing here?” Her eyes dart to my hands that I have resting on my thighs.

My earlier threat wasn’t empty. I might not do it during office hours, but that doesn’t mean I won’t. I wasn’t even planning on saying that to her; it just spilled out of my mouth. But I wasn’t going to take it back. Not when the idea took root and played on my mind all day.

And apparently hers as well.

“This is my car, Ms. Frazzer.”

“Willow,” she corrects quickly, and from the stunned look on her face, she didn’t mean to. But I like that she did. That we’re both clearly on a first-name basis.

“Of course this is your car. I simply meant that I don’t need to take it if you need it.” She unbuckles as if to leave just as Marco gets into the driver’s seat and starts it up. He’s already pulling away from the curb before she can open the door. There’s a reason I pay him so well.

I reach across her and buckle her back in before she can move. She plasters herself to the back of the seat, and I ignore how carefully she avoids touching me.

“My plan is to escort you while you choose a program my company will pay for.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” It’s easier if she thinks this is all transactional and nothing personal. Easier from a human resources standpoint, at least.

“I also wanted to know if Lily has finished her dragon-slaying manual. She promised to work on it today.”

The growl from the front seat has us both smiling at each other.

“Well, I’ll be glad for the company. I also appreciate your supporting the after-school program for me.”

“I’ve been meaning to look into something like this for the company as it is.” I ignore the snort from Marco up front, even if it pulls Willow’s attention for a moment. Sure, last month, I might have fired someone because they had a sick kid—or was it a dog—who kept them home. Last week, I was thinking about making a clause in the new hire contracts about committing to already having things in place if they accepted the position to prevent things like this.