Who's the Boss? - Erin McCarthy Page 0,24
from her bargain hunting. Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, you’re Dante Marksman! You have two championship rings.”
He nodded and smiled at her. “That’s right. And you’re on the dance team.”
I hung back, blatantly eavesdropping.
Dakota smiled back. “Holy crap, how did you know that?”
He gestured to her. “I’d recognize those legs anywhere.”
Well, okay then. I wasn’t sure if that was a charming compliment or mildly creepy. Dakota had no such reservations.
She giggled like a middle school girl. “Why, thank you.”
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Dakota.”
“Want to hang out sometime?” he asked, pulling his phone out. “Can I get your number?”
“Oh, yeah, sure, that would be cool.” Dakota’s cheeks were slightly pink but she sounded the appropriate amount of interested-meets-nonchalant.
I wandered away, figuring I owed them a couple of minutes of privacy. I was eyeing a floral dress that had a nineties grunge vibe to it when Dakota came over to me. “Can you believe that?” she said, in a stage whisper. “I’m dead. I’m dying. Dante Marksman asked me to hang out. He likes my legs.”
“That’s awesome. He’s seriously the definition of tall, dark, and handsome.”
“A baller. Damn.” Dakota fanned herself. “Good thing I’m in this short dress because I need some air down there.”
That made me laugh. “Stop!” I looked around. “He did leave, didn’t he? You cannot be talking about your overheated vagina with him three feet away.”
“He left.” She sighed and leaned against a rack. She propped her head up with her hand. “But he’s my future husband, just so you know.”
That made me roll my eyes. “No impulse marriage, please. We’ve had enough of that in our group lately. Just have fun with him.”
“Oh, I plan on doing that.” She gave me a wicked grin. “So what is going on with you and Chef Dickhead?”
“Nothing. We start work together Monday and I have to be super nice to him, which makes me want to gag. But it’s either that or I lose my job.” I shoved the T-shirt back onto the rack. I didn’t need it, especially if I might get fired. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Can you get him fired?”
“How would I get him fired?” That would be satisfying, but very wrong.
“Sabotage his food. Poison people.” She tugged on the hem of the shirt again, sounding very casual about making diners sick.
“That’s horrible and illegal.”
“I was kidding. But seriously, can you somehow sabotage him? Make him late for work? Distract him so he screws up?”
“How can I distract him if I’m being nice to him? I need to throw him off his game.” I didn’t usually want someone to get fired, but if it was him or me, I wanted it to be him. Nothing personal. Despite the fact that I hated him just a fraction less now that I knew he babysat little girls for friends.
Dakota snapped her fingers. “I know. Be sexy at work. Be all flirty, dropping innuendos. Hell, drop a towel and bend over to pick it up. Classic bend and snap. Plus wear tight clothes. It will confuse him and he’ll oversalt the salad.”
“You don’t salt a salad,” I said automatically.
“Whatever. That’s not the point. Sabotage without actually doing anything wrong or illegal or immoral. It’s brilliant.”
It had merit. I wasn’t sure I was capable of being sexy at work. I take my work in the kitchen seriously. But I did not want to lose my job because I lost my cool and snapped at Sean. Besides, Sean did not seem rattled by the kiss we had shared. Unlike me, who had given it way too much air time in my own head. My ego was dented just enough that I wanted to see if I could get a reaction from him.
Dakota handed me a pair of jeans that were at least one size too small for me. “Try these on.”
“I can’t work if I can’t move,” I grumbled, but I dutifully took them.
A few minutes later she was modeling her revised outfit with pants while I came out in the jeans. “You look so hot,” she said. “Isla, oh my God. Those jeans were made for you.”
They were surprisingly comfortable. They must have been made of something stretchy like Lycra. I wasn’t used to working in clothes that tight, but I didn’t wear baggy stuff normally either. This wouldn’t be a huge adjustment to make. I was willing to try it. I’d rather distract Sean with flirtation than do something shady like tossing salt in his dish.
I wanted to