Page 37 of Hating the Boss

“Sometimes.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s only my third day. I really shouldn’t be complaining. The salary is lucrative, and aside from wearing the wrong shoes, today wasn’t that bad.”

It hadn’t been. Not really. I got to drive his convertible, go shopping, pick up his lunch, and a few other random errands. I really shouldn’t be complaining. Maybe it was the feeling that he didn’t want me around that was really bothering me.

“Plus,” I added with a sly smile. “He’s not too shabby to look at.”

Juliet giggled. “I have seen his picture in the paper. Not too shabby at all.”

“Enough about me,” I said, waving my hand in the air uninterestedly. “How are you?”

“I’m good! Just enjoying ‘mom life.’ Hence the caffeine. I swear, Blair never stops moving.”

“Is it everything you hoped it would be?” I asked, nudging her shoulder.

“And more…” She smiled warmly at me. I could have sworn her eyes were watery with emotion. I knew how much she loved being a mom to Blair. She was amazing at it too.

I felt a sudden pang of longing in my chest, but swallowed it down.

“I should go,” she said. “Chester and Blair are meeting me at the park for a late afternoon stroll.”

“Tell them I said ‘hi!’” I said, pulling her in for another hug.

“Of course. Let’s get together soon. I could use a girls’ night.”

“Definitely.” I nodded.

I watched her go, carrying her iced coffee and a pastry bag with what I assumed was something sweet for Blair. I turned and stepped forward in the line, surprised to see that I was already next to order. Chatting with Juliet had broken up the boring wait.

When I stepped up to the counter, I opened Brad’s text with his coffee order.

“Just so you know, this isn’t my order,” I said with a nervous smile. I began reading from my phone. “I need a medium-sized cappuccino, filled three quarters of the way, leaving room for extra foam. The cappuccino should be 190 degrees and made only with the most recently ground beans. And please add a sprinkle of cinnamon on top of the foam.”

I smiled at the barista who looked bored with me. I wondered if she had even been listening, but then she got to work behind the counter. Since I knew nothing about coffee, I trusted she would get Brad’s insistent order right. I wondered how he had even come up with such an order. I felt bad for the baristas he had used as his mad scientists.

“Just so you know, I’ve had worse…” The barista winked at me, before sliding over a white paper cup and popping a lid on top. Of course, she had. This was New York after all, with all its corporate yups and their hoity-toity peculiarities.

I laughed softly as I handed her my card. The card Brad had given me this morning for things like this expensive coffee order. It was heavy in my hand, the silver sheen glowing under the glass pendant lights above the counter. I’d never come close to having a card like this. It felt expensive.

After the barista ran the card, I thanked her and headed for the door, checking the time on the clock above the door on my way out. It was already 5:20. I adjusted my bags and gripped the cup tightly, making my way through the coffee shop and out to the sidewalk, ready to embark on the journey back to the office.

I quickly walked the several blocks back, working myself into even more of a sweat. I should have taken a cab for my aching feet and to have reprieve from the bags weighing me down, but judging by the looks of traffic, walking would probably be faster. As I walked, the smell of the cappuccino rose toward me and made my stomach grumble. It smelled delicious. I should have ordered two.

As I turned the corner and saw the office building come into view, my phone buzzed in my purse. Balancing the coffee and bags in one hand, I pulled out my phone to see a text from Brad: Well, it’s too late now. I’m heading home. You’re relieved for the day.

I stopped short, letting my arm fall tiredly to my side, the bags falling off it and onto the sidewalk. After all that? He couldn’t have texted me twenty minutes ago?

“Asshole,” I muttered.

I leaned against the glass building behind me for a quick break. I was more certain than ever that he was either avoiding me or testing me. Or both. Too bad for him, I wasn’t a quitter. And he didn’t know how badly I needed this job. I smiled to myself, proud of my resolve.

I popped the lid off the cappuccino and took a long sip.

Damn. That was good.

“Thanks for the coffee, Brad,” I said, before taking another sip.

Chapter 16 Brad

“You’re early,” I said, setting my black briefcase down on my desk.