Josie:Pretty loaded
Willow:Maybe you should, you know, hitch up the boobies and actually wash your hair. You might land yourself a billionaire
Josie:No, thanks. I'm not going to be like my mother. Besides Mace is weird
Willow:He can't be that weird. I saw the free lunch you posted on Instagram
Josie:I can't go for a guy just because he buys me nice food
Willow:That seems like as good of a criterion as any
Josie:I'm not sure. Sometimes I think he's attracted to me but then he shuts down
Willow:Maybe Tara put him off of women. I don't know what happened. She was on a call with him, then when it was over, she just went off yelling about how assistants need to know their place and shouldn't be gold-diggers going after their bosses
That stung more than I cared to admit. I never liked the way my mother treated her boyfriends. She always seemed to go after decent guys because she could use them for money more easily. In her rare phone calls to Aunt Myrtle's, she would never ask me about school or friends or anything like that. She would just brag about how she had convinced this or that guy to buy her a car or take her on an expensive vacation. She would gleefully tell me about how she lied and made the poor guy think she was in love with him. Then, when she'd drained them of money, or if they got sick or just needed her to be there for them, she would dump them and leave, usually stealing something of value on the way out.
I didn't want Mace to think I was after him for his money. He seemed like a nice guy—he took care of his family, and he offered me a spot to park my tiny house. He also didn't fire me, which was worth quite a lot.
I needed to find some way of contributing to the Svennson household. Maybe a nice thank-you gift? But Mace could just buy anything he wanted. I'd need to think on it.
Though I didn't want Mace to think I was using him, I was stupidly excited to use his shower. The tiny house had a wet room, but it provided only the barest trickle of water. It smelled like moss, and I never really felt clean after using it.
It was dark outside already as I picked my way across the lawn, a canvas bag with toiletries and my pajamas slung over my shoulder.
"A shower! A shower! I'm going to have a shower!" I sang to myself. I was so looking forward to a real shower.
When I walked into the house, I realized just how huge it was. There were supposedly thirty-odd people living there, and I didn't see a soul. It was a little spooky.
"Don't eat me, ghosts," I whispered as I crept down a dark hallway and up what seemed to be an old servants' staircase.
"If I were a shower, where would I be?" I muttered as I wandered down a wider hallway. There were old portraits of people I assumed were the Harrogates. This hallway smelled cleaner than the back stair, as if it had recently been painted. My feet padded on the plush carpet runner covering the hardwood floors. Where were all the lights?
I started trying doors at random. Surely there was a bathroom somewhere?
The first door I tried seemed to be a bedroom. It too was dark. The next room looked like an office. The next was…
"Ah, a bathroom! Or part of one." It was one of those fancy kinds where the toilet, the shower, and the sinks were separated. It even had a little room with a bench.
The door to the shower opened, and I came face-to-face with Mace. Actually it was more like face to chest—a very bare, very muscular chest. My boss was cut. Like, very cut.
"Excuse me!" he said. He seemed like he was going to reach for the small towel that slung low on his hips and use it to cover his chest then realized that that probably would be worse.
"Hey, you can stand half naked in front of me anytime!" I joked. Mace blinked at me. A few droplets of water clung to his skin. I wanted to lick them. "I just was looking for a shower."
"Guest showers are on the other wing. I thought Remy told you."
"He just pointed in the general direction of the house," I replied. I was still standing directly in front of him. The polite thing to do would have been to move back, but I didn't. He smelled really good. I wondered what product he used. I needed it. I wanted to smear it in my pillow and drift off to sleep with it.
Mace cleared his throat. "I would give you a map, but I'm not sure that would help, seeing as how you got lost in my office with one."
"I can just shower here," I told him. He looked down at me. Really I wanted to steal his body gel or aftershave or whatever that scent was. I started grinning like an idiot when I walked past a guy who smelled really good. Mace smelled so amazing that I just wanted to bury my face in his chest.
"You'll have more privacy in the guest wing," he said firmly. "Let me change, and I'll show you where it is."
When he reemerged from his bedroom, he was in a T-shirt and gray sweatpants that were slung low on his hips.
"I'm digging the hot casual look," I told him. He rolled his lips between his teeth. I could tell he was trying not to laugh.
