Page 30 of Hating the Boss

“See you tomorrow?” I asked, even though I knew she was contractually obligated to be at work.

“Mhmm.” She nodded and opened the car door. Giving me a little wave, she stepped onto the curb and closed the door behind her, leaving me with the smell of peaches and vanilla.

In her sudden absence, I realized I wanted to hold her again. To breathe that smell in. To memorize the shape of her body against mine.

“Get your shit together,” I whispered to myself.

I had to get control of whatever this was. If I were even going to suggest the idea of her posing as my girlfriend, I had to make sure I could trust her. I had to make sure she could handle me. Me at my worst. Me as the demanding asshole previous assistants had balked from. She wouldn’t be smiling then, and I wouldn’t be having these feelings.

No more Mr. Nice Guy.

Chapter 13 Sarah

“Breaking out the big guns today, huh?” asked Jessica from the doorway of my bedroom. She sat in her wheelchair, wearing flannel pajamas and an oversized shirt, her hair pulled into a messy bun atop her head. She took a sip of coffee and I chose to ignore the look she was giving me as I tried to zip up the back of my dress.

The dress.

After yesterday’s adventure of skydiving and that hug that I couldn’t stop thinking about, no matter how hard I tried, I thought today would be perfect for the sapphire dress. I had felt something yesterday, in the way we careened down to earth together and the way Brad’s eyes were on me. Scared and happy and encouraging all at the same time.

It hadn’t just been a trust exercise for him and a client. It had been a trust exercise for us too.

Since we had been out of the office all day yesterday, and most of the day before, I figured he had to be in the office today. The giddy feeling growing in my stomach made me feel foolish and excited. I couldn’t wait to see him. I couldn’t wait to see his expression when I walked into the office wearing this.

This dress that I could not zip up no matter how I contorted my body.

“A little help?” I asked, turning to look at my sister who was holding back laughter. I raised a brow and tapped my foot impatiently.

She wheeled herself over to where I stood in front of the floor-length mirror hanging on my closet door. I turned and knelt down slightly. She grabbed the zipper and pulled it to the neckline in one quick movement.

“There,” she said, wheeling herself backward to get a better look at me.

I did a little turn and put my hands on my hips.

“What do you think?” I asked nervously.

“It’s bordering on inappropriate for the office…”

I shot her a look.

“But you look even better in it now than you did at Bloomingdales,” she added with an encouraging nod.

I knew she was worried about me. That was what sisters did. Worry. I had done enough worrying for the both of us over the past couple of years, so this was a new feeling.

I knew I was playing a dangerous game of wanting my boss’s attention, knowing how unprofessional it was. I couldn’t help it, though. Brad had not left my head since I had walked straight into him. Yesterday only made it worse. I could still feel his hands wrapped around my back, his fingers pressing into me wantonly. The fast pace of his heart still sounded in my ear from where my cheek was pressed against his chest. The smell of citrus and cedar still in my lungs.

“Thanks, sis,” I said.

She nodded, surely biting her tongue, before wheeling herself out of my bedroom and out to the living room. She spent most of her days there, reading or doing puzzles or watching TV. She kept insisting she should get a job, but I kept insisting that she shouldn’t. Jessica had barely entered remission. Well, a few months ago, but I wasn’t ready to let her be out in the real world yet.

I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to her when I wasn’t there. Or her getting sick because of her compromised immunity. Or her feeling like she needed to work to help pay the bills. That was my responsibility. She was my responsibility.

She was safer here in our apartment.

Still, I knew how lonely she must feel. Being cooped up here, thinking about all the things she used to do. Could do.

“How about I bring home your favorite takeout tonight?” I called out, thinking of something that would bring her a little joy.

“Sounds good,” she called back.