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Nat responds by sending the initials BB followed by a flame, an explosion, and several lightning emoji.
I take the symbols to mean Royce (the Big Boss or BB) is dangerous rather than hot.
Then again, Nat, who knows everything about that night (except the fine details), has faith in Royce. She thinks he’s being sweet by not bringing up our past. She thinks he’s remaining aloof in order to allow me to save face. She reasons (and rightly so) that if people in the office found out, I’d lose credibility as a manager of an all-male team.
That aside, she thinks I should make the first move.
Puh-leez.
I’m a strong, independent woman. I can get over this...him. I have to.
No matter that he showed me his vulnerable side by revealing his darkest secret the night we spent together.
And that was why I fell a little…in-likewith him.
But that torch went from burning to embers after I found out who he was.
If I had meant something to him, he, as the heir to one of the most technologically advanced security companies in the world, could have found me with a few clicks of a mouse.
He didn’t bother. Not that I care...much.
At least I tried to reconnect.
Six months ago, I was in New York for a week-long training. On my lunch break, I went to the Grayson building and asked to see him. I didn’t get past the ground floor. The snooty receptionist—a waif of a woman with red hair—had looked me up and down with her lip curled.“Mr. Grayson doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.”She then went back to reading her magazine as if I didn’t exist.
I glance at Natalie’s statue of Queen Zenobia. She was a captive of the Romans and used her wits and resilience to get them to set her free.
Nat, like me, feels empowered by strong women from all ages of history. Of all the figurines she has on her desk, Queen Zenobia is the one I try to emulate. I find nothing wrong with using brainpower to get out of a tough situation.
If I could only use my brain instead of listening to my heart, I would—
My phone buzzes again with a text from Nat. Big Barron is serving the chili. Is BB still not there?
Me: No. The ass.
I’m really pissed now. More than pancakes (well, almost more) I love Big Barron’s chili. He’s the owner of the Blue Slipper and a hole in the wall restaurant that serves some of the best BBQ and chili in the world. Big Barron takes part in nationwide chili cook-offs and he tests a new recipe once a month.
And tonight, isthenight.
Damn that Royce.
By the time I finally get there, not only will happy hour be over, I won’t get to sample the chili.
Nat: Girl, this chili is so good. BB said he’d save you some.
Me: Who? Royce?
Nat: LOL!! Sorry, I’m a little tipsy. The last BB is Big Barron. Not THE BB- Big Boss!
Me: I was about to say. If he’d shown up there, eating chili meant for me...
“I’d kick his ass,” I say out loud.
“Whose ass are you going to kick?” His deep, slow rumble is so close to my ear, I squeal and vault from my chair.
My phone doesn’t appreciate the gesture, and it moves with a mind of its own. I reach out, my eyes stretching with fright as it dances on my fingertips.
Once.
