The Boss Project by Vi Keeland

I smiled. “I’ve heard the manifest your destiny speech a time or two from Kitty myself.”

Merrick chuckled. “I’m sure you have. Anyway, I only knew about the car because of the picture I just showed you and my grandmother talking about it. I never actually saw it.”

He stared at the photo a moment. “Ten years ago, when I got my first big bonus payout, I went to a car swap. I wasn’t really looking for anything, but I figured I’d see if something caught my eye. There was a 1957 Jaguar convertible on display, and the thing was sparkling. It looked brand new. I tried to buy it, but it was already sold. The seller was a nice guy, though, and we got to talking. He mentioned he had a friend who had the same car, though it wasn’t in nearly as good of shape, so I’d need to have it restored myself. A couple of weeks later, I went to go see it.” He shook his head. “The thing didn’t need a little work; it was a disaster. I was about to say I wasn’t interested when the guy mentioned he’d gotten it from a woman in Atlanta almost two decades ago.”

My eyes widened. “No!”

Merrick nodded. “Turned out to be the same exact car. It was just too big of a coincidence to walk away from, so I bought it. Fixing it up probably cost more than buying a completely restored one, but I love that damn car. I tried to give it to my grandmother as a gift for her seventy-fifth birthday a few years back, but she insisted my grandfather would rather have me keep it. Then she told me her DV house could use some new siding if I wanted to be a big spender.”

I laughed. That sounded like Kitty. “Wow. That’s a really cool story. I’d say that car was definitely meant to be yours.”

He nodded. “What made you decide that car matched my personality?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s kind of a rich guy’s snobby car, but it’s understated and quiet at the same time.”

“Snobby, huh?”

I smiled. “How do you think I feel? I’m a damn Prius.”

We both laughed, and a few minutes later, we pulled up to my sister’s building.

Merrick told the driver to wait and walked me inside to the elevator bank.

I pushed the button. “Thank you again for inviting me,” I said. “I haven’t gotten dressed up and gone out in a long time.”

He looked down at his feet in an oddly shy gesture. “Well, you clean up good, so you should.”

“Thank you. I’d say the same to you, but honestly, you look good all the time.”

Merrick’s brows shot up.

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head. You know you’re handsome.”

“You pretty much just say whatever is on your mind, don’t you?”

I shrugged and pulled out my keys. “I guess so. As long as I’m not going to hurt someone. Don’t you?”

Merrick’s eyes flickered to my lips before returning to meet my gaze again, causing my stomach to do a little dip. Oh my.

“I guess I filter some things to make sure they’re appropriate,” he said.

I tilted my head coyly. “That’s a shame. Sometimes the inappropriate things are the most interesting.”

On that note, the elevator doors slid open. I stepped inside and turned to face Merrick.

I tried to hide how flustered I felt. “I’ll see you Monday?”

“Actually, you won’t. I’m traveling all week again.”

“Oh.”

Merrick winked. “I’m disappointed I won’t see you, too.”

“I didn’t say I was disappointed.”

“Didn’t have to. Your face did.”

I rolled my eyes as if he was crazy. Thankfully, the doors started to slide closed a few seconds later. I wiggled my fingers. “’Night, boss. Sweet dreams.”

“Oh, they will be, Dr. Vaughn.”



• • •



The next morning, I baked up a storm. My sister padded out from the bedroom, squinting at the sun streaming in through the kitchen window like it was her archenemy.

“Why do you always open the blinds so much?”

“Umm… To let in some sunshine? You should’ve been a vampire. It’s almost ten o’clock.”

Greer walked over and pulled the blinds closed before leaning across the other side of the kitchen counter. She reached for the plate of unfrosted cupcakes that were cooling, but I swatted her away. “Those are for Mr. Duncan.”

“Who the hell is Mr. Duncan, and is he letting you crash at his place rent free?”

“Fine. Have one. But that’s it. Mr. Duncan lives in 4B. He’s got that cute little four-year-old daughter who always wears a backward baseball cap and braids.”

My sister’s face scrunched up. “Do I live in the same building as you?”

I laughed. “Don’t you know anyone?”

“This is New York. We don’t make friends with our neighbors. We put our AirPods in and avoid eye contact at all costs when we pass other humans in the hallway.”

“Well, not me. I met him on the elevator a few times. He’s a single dad. He owns the cell phone repair shop a few doors down. Anyway, tomorrow is his daughter’s birthday. She wants to bring cupcakes to nursery school. He said he was a horrible baker, so I traded him two dozen for a screen repair.”