Office Grump An Enemies to Lovers Romance - Nicole Snow Page 0,68

but you already knew it. You can, too, if you’d like, since we already went there over email.”

“Oh my God.” She laughs. “You have friends? Besides Ruby and Armstrong, I mean? I didn’t really think you did anything but work.”

Damn.

Busted.

Of course, I’m not going to let her know how artificial my social life really is.

“I don’t do the best job keeping in touch with the folks who count. Not really, but they do exist. A couple guys from my old unit, now settled back in Cleveland with wives and kids,” I say, finishing a glass of wine and filling another for her. “So, Brina, what else? Work, Wisconsin, and...?”

“I still design whenever I get a chance. I’ve always loved art, and it’s how I met my bestie in school, Paige. Right now, though, I just like making money. Keeping a roof over my head gets expensive in the city. So is the leaky roof over my paren—” She stops mid-sentence and goes quiet.

I lean in, waiting for more, hating how she turns away.

One more reason I’m glad I hired her after that day in the park.

Besides being the best executive assistant I’ve ever had, she really needs this job.

“A leaky roof sounds dangerous with winter almost here,” I mumble, pulling out my phone and opening a page I’ve bookmarked with a certain whimsical romance author.

“What are you doing?” she asks, draining her glass, struggling to look over my shoulder. “Mag?”

“Nothing,” I say, trying not to smile.

“You’re lying,” she squeaks, reaching for my phone. “Let me see, c’mon!”

I jerk it away from her, type five thousand units into the quantity field, and before she can stop me, I hit buy.

“I want to see!” she hollers, twisting around like a playful kitten.

I’m laughing as her hand waves in front of my face. I lean back, moving the phone away from her.

The confirmation page comes up just as her hand closes around my phone, and she bends it in a way my hand can’t twist. The screen lights up her face in the dusk, showing me how delicate her lips look when they fall open, forming a perfect red O.

She stares at it for a minute and then looks at me. “Five thousand copies of Farm Love? Are you insane?”

“Yes. We talked about romance books in L.A., and you never told me your mom wrote them,” I say sharply, narrowing my eyes at her. “My EA needs to be more forthcoming. Now your parents can have a brand-new roof over their heads while libraries all over the country enjoy Emily Bristol’s work. Consider it a bonus. A belated one I would’ve given you anyway after your work on Woof Meow Chow and the Jazzle Razzle accounts. We might have lost Stedfaust and his gourmet pet food if you hadn’t been in the meeting that day.”

I didn’t think her eyes could get any wider, but they do.

“And frankly, I should’ve apologized sooner,” I grind out. “Better late than never. I’m only half the devil you think I am, Sabrina.”

“It’s...I just...what? Okay. First, it’s not an EA’s place to be ‘forthcoming—’” She puts finger quotes around that word and I smile. “Not about her parents’ occupations. Not even with her boss. But I’m glad you’re happy with my work, apology accepted, and...thank you, Mag. Thank you so, so much.”

Does she hear herself?

How could I not be pleased with her work? Aside from me, she’s hands down the hardest worker at the senior level, and she’s a breath of fresh air.

“You’re welcome,” I mutter, totally disinterested in drowning in her praise.

I turn my head and wait for her to follow, which she does a minute later.

“Will you look at that?” I say, pointing to the sky.

The lingering sunset turns the whole landscape into brilliant stripes of pink, red, purple, and orange. All the magic this place is known for, as I’ve seen years ago on other trips.

This time, though, it isn’t just the sun freeing my overworked mind.

Brina is a torrid sight I’ll never forget.

Every color in that tie-dyed tank top, which she rocks without the cardigan, hangs loosely in the flickering sunset. It loops down her freckled ivory shoulders, showing off cleavage like peaches and cream.

It’s fucking painful to keep my hands to myself, to resist the urge to yank her into my lap and kiss her, to steal every breath from her lungs.

The wine must be curdling my better judgment.

“Listen, just so we’re clear, I’m insanely grateful for the bonus. But in the future,