A Very Bossy Christmas - Kayley Loring Page 0,18
it certainly sounds more relaxing than some of my options.”
She accidentally on purpose elbows me in the back, almost making me spill the drink in my hand. Almost. I put the tumbler down on the buffet table next to us and turn to join in on the conversation, because she obviously wants me to—just as Drucker is pulling something out of his blazer pocket.
“Hey, what’s this doing in here?” he exclaims, like the world’s worst close-up magician. He holds up a sprig of fake mistletoe, and before he can say why don’t you help me honor this holiday tradition, I’ve swiped that thing out of his hand and crumpled it up. “What the shit, man?” he whines.
“As general counsel of this firm, I’d advise against the use of mistletoe at a work function.”
Maddie covers her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
“It’s not like I was going to force her to do anything,” he mumbles.
“Best not to put her in an awkward position to begin with.”
Now she’s laughing out loud.
Yeah, I get the irony.
But at least I waited until non-office hours to approach her and offered her the safety of a legal agreement instead of a leafy invitation to sexual harassment. And also—this guy is neither hot as fuck, nor is he physically or mentally agile enough to appreciate or handle her in all the ways she deserves to be handled.
“Employers are legally liable, even when incidents occur at off-site venues. Thanks for the socks, by the way.” I wave them around in front of Drucker’s face.
“What makes you think they’re from me?” he asks, grinning like a lazy dick sock-giver.
“Got you written all over it. What’d you get, Cooper?”
“A twenty-dollar gift card for White Castle!”
“From onion rings guy?”
“It even smells like onion rings.” She giggles, holding the card up under my nose.
“Mmm, reminds me of the interior of my car,” I say in a hushed voice—because this is an inside joke between my assistant and me and has nothing to do with Drucker.
“I love White Castle,” he says. “I like their smoothies.”
And before he can suggest that they stop by there on the way to the Hamptons, Maddie gets called over to the karaoke machine, because apparently, she signed up for a song.
“Hold this for me, will you?” She smirks, placing the card in the palm of my hand.
She smooths down the front of her dress as she sashays over to grab a mic and then proceeds to sing “You’re A Mean One, Mr. Grinch.” To me. Like Marilyn Monroe singing “Happy Birthday, Mr. President.” Except instead of wishing me a happy birthday, she’s telling me, in front of everyone, that my heart is an empty hole and she wouldn’t touch me with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole.
Which is hilarious.
I mean—I’m laughing. Everyone’s laughing. I don’t even care that Drucker’s laughing.
Because it’s a holiday party. And her sexy voice is filling this entire room with holiday spirit and good old-fashioned sass. It’s not even sass, really. She’s cocky as hell. She isn’t nervously checking her watch to see how much time she has left to decide if she wants to accompany her boss to a few enjoyable family functions or work at the office all day and night for the rest of the year. And neither am I.
I’m cool as a Christmas pickle. A pickle who might have to call his mom and tell her his new girlfriend just got hit by a truck. Or maybe I’ll get hit by a truck. I could get lucky. I still believe in Christmas miracles. My heart isn’t really an empty hole. It’s an asshole. And an idiot. But it’s not a lazy dick.
I applaud and hoot and holler when Maddie’s done serenading me. She gives me a big, toothy grin from across the room. Service with a smile, always. But that smile falters for a moment. As she’s handing the microphone to someone else, those big brown eyes are still fixed on mine. I don’t know what my face is doing right now, but it’s making her a little worried. About me. About how she’s made me feel, maybe.
She cares. She doesn’t like it. But she cares.
What do you know? I might just have to look both ways when I cross the road on the way back to Sentinel so I don’t get hit by a truck. I might just have something to live for.
I tear my eyes away from her and stroll on over to the open bar to get one more