Who's the Boss? - Erin McCarthy Page 0,10

never the case. I knew Nico and Sid had wanted this to have a celebratory vibe but it definitely did not.

“So, any questions you have, direct them to Chef Sean,” Sid said.

Isla made a sound in the back of her throat.

Yep. We definitely were going to have to have a private meeting and hash all of this out.

Because I wasn’t going to let Isla ruin this opportunity for me.

Nor was I going to suggest she hate fuck me, even though I really wanted her to.

Two

“I don’t know what to do,” I said to my best friends as we sat in Savannah’s apartment. I leaned against her couch cushions and rubbed my temples. My head was pounding. “I’m going to have to quit my job. I cannot work for Sean. I’m not even sure I could work with him as peers. I sure in the hell can’t work for him.”

The very thought made my blood pressure increase.

Not even the sight of Sully stumble-walking could improve my mood.

“You can’t quit,” Savannah said as she hovered behind her son, arms out to catch him if he fell. “You love working at Bone.”

“How hilarious is it that your restaurant is named Bone?” Dakota asked.

She said that about once every six months, straight out of nowhere. She should no longer find it funny, but that was Dakota. She was easily amused. Right now she was lying on her stomach on the floor, making faces at Sully as he walked toward her.

“Seriously,” Leah said, sitting on the couch next to me. “What would quitting accomplish other than potentially ruining your career?”

“Sean isn’t that bad once you get to know him,” Felicia said, lounging in a chair, her hand over her tiny baby bump. “He’s just…” She tossed her dark hair back, clearly searching for the right words.

“See?” I said, pointing at her. “You don’t even know what to say and he’s your brother-in-law.”

“He isn’t really like Michael at all,” she admitted. “For brothers they’re very different. But Sean isn’t a bad guy. He’s a hard worker, he is nice to his mother even though she constantly picks at him, and he brings lovely gifts.”

“He’s arrogant.”

“Confident,” she corrected. “There’s a big difference.”

“Some people might call you arrogant, Isla,” Dakota said. “It’s a tough city and you’ve worked hard to get where you are. You deserve to feel proud of yourself. Maybe that’s how Sean feels. He’s worked hard and earned the right to be a little impressed with himself.”

I had no answer for that and that also annoyed me.

“We’re supposed to be entering a Best of Brooklyn cook-off over Memorial Day weekend. That means we have to plan a whole special barbeque-inspired summer menu, which means I have to sit there and keep my mouth shut and do whatever Sean wants to do. I’m not sure I can handle that. I’ve had ideas for this cook-off for months.”

“How do you know he won’t listen to you? Run your ideas past him,” Savannah suggested. “He can’t act like a dictator.”

“You haven’t worked in the food industry,” I told her dryly. “It’s full of dictators.”

“Then you should be able to handle Sean.”

“At least he’s hot,” Dakota said, rolling onto her back so Sully could climb on her stomach. She made faces at him.

He was. Which was not a positive. It was hell. Because he was hot and my body knew it. I hated that he turned me on, just a little. Not a lot, but a little. Okay, I was lying. A lot. I wanted to climb him like a tree.

“How is that relevant?” I asked.

“Having a hot boss is never a bad thing.”

“You have a hot boss,” Leah said. “The coach is a seriously attractive man.”

“He’s not my boss,” Dakota said. “And he’s grumpy. Like, seriously grumpy. That is so not attractive to me.”

“And arrogance isn’t attractive to me,” I said. “See how that works? It doesn’t matter if someone is hot if you don’t like them as a person.”

I pulled Nico up in my contacts and typed out a text that I was quitting. I deleted it. I typed it again. There was no way I was sending it. I couldn’t quit. I groaned. “This sucks so much.”

“Are we ordering food now?” Felicia said.

Obviously my crisis wasn’t hers. “I’m having a meltdown and all you care about is eating?” I asked.

“I’m pregnant and starving!” she protested. “You have to feed and water an expectant mother.”

Food was my passion, my love. I had always enjoyed helping my mom