It’s my field manager.
Emmett:It’s a Saturday night, so I’m sure you’re busy, but when you get a moment, can we chat?
My thumbs hover over the keyboard, unsure of what to reply. Should I reply? Or should I let him believe I have a more exciting life than the one where I’m home alone, sitting in the bath on a Saturday night off work?
Me:Why are you working on a Saturday night?
Emmett:I’m always working. It doesn’t stop.
Me:Yeah, I get that.
Emmett:Can I call you?
Can he call me?
My eyes immediately dart downward... to my bare tits. To my stomach and thighs just below the surface of the extremely clear water.
Really not the most flattering angle on anybody, I swear.
It feels...inappropriateto take a phone call from my employee while bare-ass naked in my bathtub. But before I can tell Emmett it’s a bad time, my phone starts buzzing with a call from him.
Shit.
I quickly turn my music off before answering the call, attempting to make my voice sound as professional as possible. Because a professional tone would indicate that I’m definitelynotnaked right now.
“Hello?”
“Bad time?” Emmett asks.
The worst time, actually.
“Of course not. What’s up?”
“I just got a strange email from Scott asking me to join your advisory board meeting on Monday. Arthur never had me join those, so I wasn’t sure if that was your idea or...”
It’s impossible to mask the frustrated huff of air I blow out. “Nope. Sure wasn’t.”
Scott is really trying to go around me to add another person that doesn’t agree with me into our meetings. I’m already outnumbered. What more does he want?
I guess that’s an easy answer. He wants the city’s beloved manager to seehimas the better fit for president.
“I’ll tell him no, then,” Emmett says easily. “It’s your meeting. I’m not sure why he’s asking me to get involved.”
“I’d appreciate that. And thank you for checking with me first.”
Look at me, being cordial.
“Of course. You’re the boss, Reese.”
“I do love when you remember that.”
He laughs under his breath and, shockingly, I find a smile on my mouth from hearing it.
“Have a good night,” he says.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
His chuckle is this warm rumble that fades into a still silence on the line. It stays that way for a while, allowing this shift that feels a bit more personal than professional. Not quite friendship, but maybe allies.
