The Next Mrs Russo - Jana Aston Page 0,36

way.

“I think it’s clear to everyone…” He pauses, staring at me for a moment in which I imagine he’s going to say something like I think it’s clear to everyone that beneath this totally unreadable exterior, I’m really into you. But instead what he says is, “I think it’s clear to everyone, likely even Gary, that you have plumbing issues.”

The Gary bit was a cheap shot. Like I don’t get enough attitude about the accommodations from Gary himself.

Even still, I try to find something flirty in his tone. Coming up empty, I wait, hoping he’s going to add something flirty. He did smile when he said it, but my opinion is totally unreliable so I’m going to need a little more from him before I strip naked in his hallway.

I wait.

He doesn’t add anything.

“Of course,” I say, trying to play it off. “And before you ask, I only agreed to stay here because I wanted to envision you sleeping in an outdated bedroom surrounded by lilac wallpaper on a bed first slept in by Grover Cleveland. That’s all. No ulterior motive or anything. None whatsoever.”

He laughs, shaking his head as I leave him and head into my own bedroom.

Do I pick the one right next to his?

Of course I do.

I’m not giving up on this fantasy. Not just yet, at least.

And even if it doesn’t come true, at least I won’t be sleeping alone. Because there’s still a ghost or three lurking about, of that much I’m sure.

Chapter Twelve

I love Mondays. I know that’s a weird thing to say, but I love them. There’s possibility in a Monday. Like, yes, you might have made some bad choices over the weekend. You might have moved in with the governor you have an awkward crush on. You might have broken a table that is most certainly a hundred years older than you.

But Monday! Monday can fix everything.

And the shop’s been pretty busy today. Mrs Bianchi has been a Godsend, and thanks to her network of friends, I’m getting a lot of business. Apparently the granddaughter of one decided that a one-of-a-kind vintage redo homecoming dress was the only way to go, and now I’ve got five appointments booked for this afternoon.

Appointments.

I actually have appointments.

Who would’ve thought?

Luckily I have a lull during the lunch hour because a girl’s got to eat. Even better, my lunch break is perfectly timed. My laptop is open and I’m glued to the hottest display of raw sexual energy known to man as I fork leftover pasta into my mouth.

A press conference featuring the one and only Governor Russo.

“What exactly about this do you find sexy?”

I glare at Miller. It’s clear to me now that Miller is straight because anyone who appreciated men would know that Warren Russo is the most obvious display of big dick energy to ever exist.

Just look at him, standing there at his podium, batting reporters’ questions away as easily as if he were… well, if he were a very talented athlete in some kind of sport that requires batting things away. Badminton? No, that’s not very sexy. Tennis? Maybe. Or baseball.

The point is, it’s his confidence. His take-no-shit attitude. The way he levels them with a single look of ‘yes, I know exactly what I’m talking about and, yes, I have the power to follow up and follow through.’

Any woman knows that it’s the follow-through that’s sexy.

None of this, though, is appropriate to say out loud to my seventeen-year-old non-employee.

“Effective leadership is sexy,” I say with a shrug.

“Sure.” Miller rolls his eyes. “Or boring as hell. What is he even talking about?”

“Umm…” I stall because I’ve only been paying vague attention to the content. “Something about increasing the minimum wage in New York State.”

Miller grins. “Fantastic! So I’m getting a raise.”

“I suppose you would be, if you actually worked here.”

Miller shrugs. “Semantics.”

“I’m not sure that’s what semantics means.” I pause and think about it. Hmm, maybe it is. “Anyway, a living wage is very sexy, don’t you think?”

“Uh, sure. You’re not right in the head, you know that, right?”

Whatever. I can’t help it. I sigh as Warren says the words, “I’ve told you it can be done, and I intend to make it happen.”

I look over at Miller who’s giving me the world’s biggest eye-roll.

“What can I say? Effective leadership is hot.”

Miller just shakes his head. “Uh-huh.”

“Whatever. You love who you love.” I shrug, then quickly think better of that statement before Miller runs with it. “I mean, you crush on who you