“There you are, Lucy May.” Speak of the devil…
Without looking up, only briefly acknowledging him with a nod as I continue to make my way through the back offices of thecommunity center, I state, “How many times do I have to tell you not to use my middle name?”
You might be thinking that I shouldn’t talk to my boss like that. Well, you’re wrong. Stone Harper deserves my stern coldness because he constantly teases me and uses my middle name when addressing me even though I've told him not to. The man is a natural flirt and can’t seem to control himself, even as a director in charge of various employees. Except… I’m the only woman here who’s within his age range. The other ladies are much older and married or widowed. They enjoy the lavish attention Stone gives them.
One would ask, is it a red flag that he disregards what I ask? Probably. But ultimately, he’s not stepping on my boundaries, and I most certainly will not file a workplace harassment report. I’m kind of a covert fan of the way he innocently teases and flirts with me by using my middle name, which happens to be a part of my pen name, Lucy May. I secretly relishin his unwarranted attention. I could put a stop to him using my pen name if Ireallywanted to.
He, however, doesnotneed to know that. I can only imagine how insufferable he would become. How much bigger that handsome head of his would get…
So why shouldn’t I date my boss since he’s all Flirty McFlirter Pants with me? I’ll say it again: Notorious Playboy. Don’t forget that, friends.
I mean, sure. I technicallycoulddate him if I wanted to. He would fit the jeans and flannel, suit, and sweatpants and t-shirt categories. (I’ve seen him in all varieties of clothes, and the man can pull off just about anything). But… I know better. I knowbetter than to try and to date a player at this juncture in life. Like I said, I’ve dated many different types of men, and I’ve had my heart broken by believing I could change one.
Some special kind of woman will catch and hold Stone’s attention one day, effectively tying him down, but it’s not going to be me. I will not fall in love with my playboy boss. I won’t allow myself the opportunity to even flirt with the idea.
As if you haven’t been doing that all morning. Jeez, Lucy. Are you that desperate and starved for a man?
Yes, unfortunately. But I don’twantto be. It’s a battle. Every. Single. Day.Stupid romantic heart…
I’m tired of my brain mindlessly chasing and imagining “what if” scenarios over every encounter with a handsome man. It’s only gotten worse since everyone in my life has abandoned me to their own romantic pursuits.
Okay, not really. But it feels that way sometimes.
Reaching my office, I open the door and walk into the plain room. There’s a simple metal desk with a black mesh rolling office chair. My computer and monitor sit on a riser so that I’m able to stand and work when I need to. However, the bare white walls make this room feel like an asylum. I’ve deliberated decorating, but what’s the use? I don’t plan to be here forever. I do have a hanging now half-dead English Ivy in the corner by the window, courtesy of my sister, but that’s it as far as personal things go. The rest of my desk is cluttered with paperwork I need to sift through and organize, a random collection of pens I should probably get a holder for (don’t worry, my writer pens are residing inside acomfortable bookish bag), sticky note reminders galore, and a pink coffee mug for the much-needed post-lunch coffee break.
After setting my purse down inside the bottom drawer of the five-tiered metal filing cabinet that’s on the wall side of my desk, I plop into my chair and turn on my computer for the day.
It flashes, and I drum my fingers on the keys while laying my head on my other hand as I wait for it to load. I lose myself in mentally curating Midnight Sun Enterprises, the fictional event planning company of my new urban fantasy novel.
“Having a morning, are we?”
I startle, noticing Stone standing in the doorframe. He’s leaning against it with his arms and legs crossed; the baby pink button down dress shirt stretches across his chest and biceps, but I don’t notice it.
Nope. I’m immune to his golden, shaggy hair, light blue eyes, tanned skin, and well-trained muscles. Good gracious, that man could model khaki pants for Hollister and my former teenage heart would burst…
Okay, I’m not immune. I’m not even unimpressed.
But I am smart.
Ish.
Ugh, fine. My playboy boss is hotter than the sand on the Mississippi coast in mid-July. Playing with him would leave blistering, bubbling burns.
He’s also a little over two years younger than me at my ripe old age of twenty-six. I can’t fall for a man younger than me… That’s just not how things are supposed to work. I need a manly man, and manly men must be older than their women.
Says who?my brain taunts. But then Stone clears his throat, and I realize I’ve been ogling my younger, very manly boss for probably the past thirty seconds.
“Uh, what?” I ask in a bit of a daze. I turn the ring on my thumb, attempting to ground myself. Why is he in my doorway, again?
Get it together, Lucy May…
Great. NowI’musing my first and middle name.
He motions to his face. “Your face. It’s all red and splotchy. Have you been crying?”
Curse it all. I’m ordering new concealing powder when I get off work. “No,” I lie and shift my attention to the computer to log in.
Stone appears beside my desk and crouches down, resting one arm on the side. “If something’s bothering you, you can talk to me. I know I’m your boss, but I do care about the mental health of my employees.”
