stays quiet until I get back to my desk. This is not how I wanted my boss to find out about Baxter International’s newest employee.
“Cookie?” I offer.
I push the box toward him while taking a step back. Apparently, Mr. Grumpy Pants falls into the same category as the rest of the people around here that don’t have a fondness towards Mr. Baxter.
“Georgia.” He looks at the container of cookies. He doesn’t seem like a cookie person. I bet he loathes sprinkles. That helps cool some of these strange feelings I have toward him right now.
“I thought I was sunshine now?” He called me that yesterday in his office. I’d thought about it last night when I was lying in bed, trying to fix the throb between my thighs. But for once, Mr. Grumpy Pants decided he wanted to sleep with me, which killed any frisky efforts on my part.
“Do you just give your cookies to anyone, sunshine?”
“Well, yeah. I think it’s a nice way to . . .”
He picks up the cookie box, peers into the bag where the other cookies are, then takes it, too, before striding out of the break room. I’m left standing there. Did he just steal all the cookies?
“Follow me, Georgia.”
“Sunshine,” I correct him as I half run to try to keep up with him. Mr. Grumpy Pants lets out another loud meow. He doesn’t care for running. Whether it be him doing it himself or you carrying him and doing it. It’s a hard lazy limit for him.
Mr. Baxter stops and I almost run right into him. “You have a cat in your bag, don't you?” He stares down at me. I have to tilt my head all the way back to look up at him. Now is probably not the time to tell him that some of those cookies are for Kristen. You can’t steal cookies from a pregnant woman. There’s probably a rule about it in the mile-long employee handbook.
“Maybe.” I lick my bottom lip. Mr. Baxter’s eyes always go there when I do that. It’s a nervous habit I have. I wonder how he’s going to react to this. “I read the rule book and-“
“Of course you did.” He looks down at my bag that is now moving all around. My normally lazy cat can’t be still for once!
“Open the bag, Georgia.”
“Sunshine,” I correct. Oh my God. What is wrong with me? I’m poking him on purpose.
“Sunshine.” He does that growl thing that also does funny things to me. Then Mr. Grumpy Pants does one back. I fight to not laugh.
“Open. It.”
“Okay. You asked for it,” I warn as I open the bag to one extra grumpy Mr. Grumpy Pants.
7
Liam
Voices filter through the door of happy employees cooing over the surly cat Georgia has set up in a little nest beside her desk. It’s been going on for hours, and I’m almost to the point where I want to fire everyone in the building and start over.
My door opens, and I’m extra irritated to find Bradley striding in.
“That is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” He brushes some cat hair off his suit. “And the cat is not bad, either.”
My hackles rise. “Don’t look at her.”
“What?” He drops into his usual chair. “Since when can’t I ogle the ladies around the office?”
“Since that one,” I almost yell.
He raises his blond brows.
“Because she’s part of a plan,” I hurry on. “I don’t want you screwing this up. We have to nail Duncan Lavine to the wall, and if you go and ruin the--”
“I’m not ruining anything.” He bats the thought away with the back of his hand. “I just wanted to come by and see the cat everyone’s talking about. I can’t believe you let her bring that angry, furry thing to work. He growled at me when I walked up.” He laughs. “And he’s wearing this horrible glittery vest thing. I kind of pity the poor guy.”
“I didn’t give her permission for the cat. It’s a subject I intend to discuss with her at lunch.”
“You’re lunching with her?” He stands and walks over to the box of cookies on my desk, then flicks open the lid. “Where’d these come from?”
I reach over and smack his hand away. “Those are mine.”
“Whoa.” He grins. “She made them, didn’t she? She made these cookies to share, and you, like the fucking Cookie Monster slash Grinch you are, kept them for yourself. Admit it.”
“I can’t have her giving cookies to employees.” I sit back down