The Boss Project by Vi Keeland

It took me a few seconds to backtrack through the conversation, but I realized what they must’ve been talking about. Dave. I closed my eyes and hung my head. “Fuuuck.”

Evie laughed. “I’ve never heard of anyone being terrified of Dave Thomas. What did the guy do, other than being the founder of Wendy’s?”

“I’m going to kill my damn grandmother.”

She smiled. “Seriously. Why were you afraid of him when you were little?”

“I have no damn idea. I just saw him on a commercial once, and he looked scary to me, I guess. I was only like three years old. My sister made it worse. She used to threaten that she was going to call him if I didn’t do whatever she said. Why did Kitty have to share that shit with you?”

“She called to ask how my first day went. She said she knows you well enough to know I might need some pointers on how to keep you in line.”

“Pointers? With an S? As in Dave wasn’t the only thing she shared?”

“The rest weren’t bad.”

“Let’s hear them anyway.”

“She told me if I want to get my way with you, to bake anything with peanut butter in it—cookies, pie, brownies…”

“If you can bake a peanut butter pie like Kitty, you might work out here after all.” My phone vibrated in my pocket, so I slipped it out to see if it was important. I shook my head and turned it to show her Kitty’s name flashing on the screen. “I only heard the tail end of your conversation. Am I about to get my ass kicked for something you told her?”

“Nope. I told her you’d been nothing but sweet to me.” She winked. “Basically, I lied.”

I pretended to scowl and swiped to answer without moving from the doorway. “Hello, grandmother dearest.”

“What did you have for dinner?”

“Dinner? Nothing. I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Good. Neither did my Everly. She’s still in the office, so take her to grab a bite. And be nice. You’ve been giving her a hard time, and I know it. I can tell even though she covers for your sorry ass.”

I looked up and locked eyes with Evie. “How can you tell she’s lying about me being nice?”

“She oversold it—called you delightful. We both know that’s a load of crap. Now, are you going to do this for me or not?”

“Don’t you have some fourteenth cousin to bug?”

“Yes, and he might be going in my will if you use that tone with me much longer. Oh, and while you’re at dinner, give Everly the name of a bulldog lawyer. She needs one.”

“Goodbye, Grams.”

“Later, masturbater.”

The phone went dead, and I pulled it away from my ear and shook my head at it. “Aren’t people supposed to mellow in their old age?”

“Not Kitty, and she’d kick your ass if she heard you refer to her as old.”

I smiled and stuffed my phone back in my pocket. “How did your first day go?”

“It went well. I think I got a lot accomplished. I went around and met everyone, started reading employee files, and made my first few appointments.”

“Good.” I nodded and thumbed behind me. “I should get going. Don’t stay too long.”

“I won’t. I was just cleaning up to head out.”

“See you tomorrow.” I turned, but Evie’s voice stopped me after my first step.

“Also, I’ll make sure to tell Kitty you didn’t take me to get that bite to eat.”

I squinted. “You heard that?”

Evie shrugged. “Kitty talks loud on the phone.”

“Are you blackmailing me for a meal?”

She opened a drawer, pulled out her purse, and shut her laptop. “I’m starving and broke. Plus, I have questions about the hierarchy here at the company and the structure of compensation. I’d like to understand where all the different pressures come from.”

“What if I say it’s not appropriate for us to have dinner?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve seen me in my bra, and you told me you hired me because I was the least-competent person. Plus, this is a business meal, not for pleasure. You’re not my type.”

I felt oddly offended. “Why not?”

“Because you have a penis. At least I assume you do. And I haven’t forgiven your kind for all the wrongs they’ve caused.”

I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Good. You’re not my type either.”

She batted her eyelashes. “Not into hot girls who are batshit crazy?”

I grinned. “Definitely not.”

“Perfect. Then let’s go.” She flashed a gloating smile and walked toward the door. I stepped aside for her to exit first, but she stopped in front of me. “If you want to go to Wendy’s, I’ll treat.”

“Keep walking, wiseass.”



• • •



“So what brought you to New York after you finished school down south?” I asked after the waiter brought our drinks.

Evie shrugged. “My ex-fiancé—well, sort of. Christian and I met when we were both students at Emory. I applied for my doctoral internship year in New York because he was planning on moving back to work for his family’s company, which has its corporate offices in Midtown. My sister also lives up here, so it worked out well at the time.”