Page 42 of My Favorite Boss

And yet, I liked her a lot.

More than I should.

I glanced over, watching her remove a finished tree from the printer. I took it from her, placing it in the model. We worked silently for a while, the piece almost complete. I studied it, looking at it from different angles, pursing my lips.

“Write down what I do,” I instructed. “Every change, no matter how small.”

She grabbed her ever-present notebook and listed what I told her as I moved a few shrubs, then stood back. “Something. I need something.”

“Um,” she breathed.

I looked at her. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Tell me,” I demanded.

“I don’t know much about trees or landscaping.”

“But you know what you like. What pleases you visually. Tell me.”

“This corner.” She tapped an area just off a path. “It’s on a hill, right?”

“Yes.”

“A couple of lovely shade trees and some flowers with a seating place to read would be perfect here.” She paused. “I think.”

“Yes,” I said. “That’s what it needs. It’s off-balance here.”

I headed to the computer, bringing up the design. Myers disappeared, returning a few moments later with more coffee. She went back to her desk, working as I touched up the design. I sat back with a pleased nod. It was what was missing. Something simple yet perfect. I glanced up, seeing Myers at her desk.

Magnolia.

That summed her up. Simple, but perfect. The yin to my yang.

And I had no idea what to do about it.

It didn’t take long to print the additions. Magnolia watched over the printer as I updated the final design, and I sat back, pleased with the project.

“How have your designs evolved?” she asked.

I went to the concept model, tracing my finger back to a building behind the main hotel. “Everything you see here is self-sufficient. There is no freshwater system for keeping the gardens blooming. The gray water from the resort feeds all the plants on the grounds. All recycled. The system we put in will keep everything alive and fed. It’s designed specifically for this purpose. It’s gaining more and more popularity.”

“All the used water?”

“No—not kitchen or toilets. Nothing where bacteria can build or harsh chemicals are used. The system filters out the impurities from the other areas, and it is run using solar panels—another cost-saver and good for the environment.”

“And you design all that?”

I nodded. “I don’t just dig in the dirt, as my mother thinks. I spent years earning a lot of degrees and gaining knowledge. I keep up with all the current innovations.”

She frowned. “Is that what she thinks?”

“My grandfather, her father, was a lawyer. My father was as well until he died. My mother has her degree, although she no longer practices. Her current husband is a lawyer. And so is my stepbrother. He was and is the golden child as well. That is what is acceptable. Being a landscape architect is not. I haven’t lived up to my potential, according to my mother. The fact is that I never will.”

“Oh,” she said with a frown.

“I tried.” I barked out a laugh. “I was forced to try. I found it dull and boring. I have been fascinated by plants and how things grow for as long as I can remember. My mother hated it when I would dig in the ground or spend hours with my nose in a book about horticulture. My father thought it was amusing. He was very different from my mother. Quiet. Unassuming. He always told her to relax, that it was simply a phase.”