Page 21 of My Favorite Boss

“Nosy, much?” she asked, her voice all at once teasing and nervous.

“I was curious.” I adjusted the ice bag on her foot. “You’re talented, Myers. Why are you working as an assistant?”

“Starving artists need to pay rent. Painting is my dream. Working as an assistant so I can eat and help pay for my father’s care is my reality. I just dabble.”

I recalled her résumé. “You studied art.”

“Lots of people study art, but few get to make a living off it.”

I had a feeling there was a story there, but it wasn’t my place to ask. I was surprised I was even curious to know. I usually didn’t bother with people or their stories. I rose to my feet.

“Stay off the foot as much as you can.”

“I will.” She swallowed. “Thank you, Bane. I mean, Mr. Bane.”

“Bane is fine,” I heard myself saying. “A lot of people call me that.”

“Okay.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Isn’t that my line?”

For some reason, I reached out and trailed a finger down her soft cheek. “Not today, Magnolia Myers.”

She smiled. “Okay. Not today. But no, I am good.”

“All right. If you do—well, you have my number.”

She nodded. “All right.”

I headed to the door, pausing when she called my name.

“Bane.”

I turned to see her smiling. “Good job,” she said.

I chuckled and shrugged. “It was fine.”

Then I left.

I arrived early Monday, anxious to get to work. I had a busy schedule ahead of me, plus the awards dinner coming up soon. I was surprised to find the outer door already open, and I strode in, stopping in shock.

Myers had been busy. Furniture was moved, pictures hung up. Pictures of my work. I had to admit, they looked good. In fact, the entire outer office looked good. Neat and orderly, the same as her little apartment. Inviting as well. She had done an excellent job.

She appeared behind me, carrying a cup of coffee that she handed me.

“How did you know?” I asked, taking the cup and trying to ignore the sensation that hit me as our fingers brushed.

“I sensed a disturbance in the force.”

Biting back my chuckle, I shook my head, taking a sip of coffee. “You’ve been busy. I don’t recall you asking permission to change the office or hang those pictures.”

“Wait until you see the improvements in yours.”

I glared at her, heading to my office, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw nothing different. I turned to scowl at her, seeing the smile of delight on her face.

“I see your fall hasn’t changed your odd sense of humor.”