Page 30 of Bossman

“How did she die? Was she sick or something?”

“Some sort of an accident, I think. It was before I started. But I heard Chase was screwed up for a long time. It’s why he licensed all his products originally instead of distributing them himself. A lot of those licenses are expiring, and that’s why we’re marketing some of the products for the first time.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. He seems really good now, though. He’s usually in a good mood, anyway.” Lindsey grinned. “But I would be too if I got up every morning and looked at that face. The man is obscenely hot—if you’re into that sort of thing, that is.”

I laughed. “Not your type?”

“Apparently I like my men balding with a beer belly and propensity to be unemployed. I’ve been with Al since I was sixteen.”

“He’s gained some weight, huh?”

She snorted. “Actually, no. He’s pretty much always looked the same way. But the man thinks I walk on water for reasons I’ll never understand. Treats me like a princess.”

“Good for you.”

A couple of people from sales came into the bar and joined us, effectively ending my gossip session with Lindsey. After that, we mingled, and I got to meet a few new people. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d learned about Chase. He’d lost someone. Something like that had to have a big impact on your life, no matter how smart and well-adjusted you were.

Even if it didn’t break you, it left cracks and tiny fissures that could never be repaired.

Although the bar had grown busier by nine, the office crowd had begun to thin out. Lindsey went home, and there was only one other person from marketing left. It was time to call it a night. I attempted to get the bartender’s attention, but she was swamped down at the other end of the bar.

A man who’d clearly been overserved squeezed in next to me and tried to strike up a conversation while standing too close.

“Is that your real hair color?” he asked.

“Don’t you know you’re never supposed to ask a woman her age, weight, or if she dyes her hair?”

“Didn’t know that.” He swayed back and forth. “So asking for a phone number is okay?”

I attempted to be polite. “I suppose, if she isn’t married and seems interested.”

Feeling the need to escape, I tried again to get the bartender’s attention so I could close my tab. She held up her hand to let me know she’d seen me, but she was still busy making drinks at the other end of the bar. They really needed another bartender with this crowd.

Since I was stuck standing there, drunk guy assumed that meant I was interested. “What’s your name, red?” He reached out and touched my hair.

“Please don’t touch me.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You like women or something?”

This guy was amusing. For the first time since he’d walked over, I finally gave him my full attention, turning my body to face him before answering. “You assume I like women, just because I don’t want you to touch me?”

He ignored me. “Let me buy you a drink, pretty girl.”

“No, thanks.”

He leaned in closer, wobbling as he spoke. “You’re feisty. I like that. The red hair must be real.”

A voice from behind me caught me by surprise.

“Go stand somewhere else.” Chase’s voice was low but stern. He took a step and partially inserted himself between us, facing the drunk.

“I saw her first,” the man whined.

“I don’t think so, buddy. I sucked her face in middle school. Take a hike.”

The drunk grumbled something, but staggered away. Chase turned to face me, standing in his place. Wow. Much better view.