My Boss’s Secret by Taryn Quinn

Twelve

Needless to say,April didn’t react well to the impending transition.

April was typically a rational woman not prone to fits of emotion, one of the reasons I’d hated the very idea of her taking a vacation. What would I do for a week without her sensible pragmatism and the way she wielded a calendar?

Unshockingly, I’d hated every second—until I’d fallen head over heels with a witch. I’d blame April for that, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I owed her immeasurably. And I’d repaid her by sending her into a state of seeming catatonia that had now lasted for nearly five days.

April had done her job as capably as always, despite her early, extra-long lunch with Ryan and Luna on Monday. She’d come back to work that day wearing a smile—and with red-rimmed eyes—but I hadn’t seen her smile again in the ensuing days. She answered by rote, arrived on time, left on time, and engaged in absolutely nothing more friendly with me than the usual pleasantries. At this point, her reception was so chilly I almost wished she’d called me an office fornicator again.

Even the bookends she’d presented me as a souvenir from her trip hadn’t chipped the ice between us, despite my profuse praise of their “high polished sheen” and ability to hold books completely straight. She’d given me a thin smile and retreated to the safety of her desk.

The days of her reminding me to eat lunch when I forgot were firmly in the past. Now she’d probably just let me starve to death in my office of glass and call in a clean-up crew to dispose of my skeleton.

I understood she hated change or a disruption in her daily routine. We were very similar that way. The best way I could allay her fears that her job would remain stable even after I’d taken my exit was to introduce her to the new person who’d be helming the firm in my stead once my father and I helped with the transition.

First, I had to convince Bishop to take the position. I wasn’t above light extortion and possibly begging. I’d start with buying him a round of drinks and a hearty meal before the begging began.

When I finally got him on the phone on Thursday, we made plans for a late dinner at Lonegan’s on Friday night.

I glanced around the packed bar, filled with people talking, laughing, and whooping it up over the football game on the TVs stationed in every corner. Not the best choice on my part for an important conversation, but my buddy loved it here, and they had good food.

Things were off to an inauspicious start. Bishop was nowhere in sight.

While I waited for him, I played a stupid game on my phone called Plant-Eating Zombies while simultaneously eating my way through a plate of fried vegetables.

Hey, I’d missed lunch. Thanks, April.

I’d almost asked my jackass younger brother to attend, as he was supposed to be the other managing partner once I finally moved on. But I was still pissed at him for acting as if potentially sleeping with my assistant was no big deal. I wasn’t sure he had. I wasn’t certain he hadn’t. He wouldn’t clarify, and as usual, he seemed to enjoy making my life difficult.

Some might say I had a lot of nerve coming down on him for the same thing I’d done with Ryan. The problem wasn’t that they’d hooked up—well, not entirely. I just wanted to make sure he knew he couldn’t just roll on from her to the next woman, his standard MO.

Good time Charlie—err, Dexter—wasn’t going to treat April with disrespect if I could help it. Along with the fact she was my stalwart assistant, she was my girlfriend’s best friend. One of them, anyway. There were boundaries.

So, Dex had been left out of this meeting until I figured what his deal with April actually was. It was impossible to tell, since the man lived to fuck with me. It was basically his favorite thing. He’d even tried to make me jealous by asking out Ryan before I had.

He’d actually ended up pushing me toward her. I supposed that meant I owed him one.

Good luck there.

I glanced at my watch again. Bishop wasn’t a clock-puncher, but he wasn’t usually a half hour late without texting. He might’ve had a late client meeting. I hoped it was that and not something worse. He’d been holed up for days since he’d gotten back from Fiji, and I had a feeling we might not even get to the subject of him joining the firm in my stead tonight.

There were other pressing matters. Like if he was going to even show at all.

When I grew tired of virtually munching on plants, I switched over to texting my girlfriend, who basically told me to buzz off because she and La-la-Luna were about to record an episode of their Tarot Tramps podcast. To soften the blow, she promised to be waiting for me in my bed after I was done with Bishop.

Since I hadn’t even started with the dude, I hoped she didn’t doze off. Or else I’d be forced to wake her up with my tongue.

Oh, the hardships I endured.

A cheer went up near the doorway, so I assumed another touchdown. I turned in my seat to check out the score and frowned as my gaze zeroed in on Bishop holding court in the doorway, bending down to listen to something the cute, perky blond waitress was whispering in his ear. He was grinning and gesturing with the bottled Bud he held, clearly making sure he split his attention between the waitress and the two women equally interested in chatting with him. My best friend used to be known for enjoying the ladies—though not in the same numbers as my brother, thank God—but he’d been all about work for a bit now.

Guess he’d decided to keep his streak going after Fiji. And despite his lazy smile as he sipped and chatted, I knew the guy well enough to see the neon warning sign flashing over his head even from across the room.

He was cruising for trouble. At the speed he was traveling, he was definitely going to find it.

I grabbed my phone and sent him a text, since he didn’t seem terribly concerned about my current location.

I know I’m not wearing a miniskirt, but let’s go, Stone.

He yanked out his phone and lifted his head, his gaze narrowing on mine. He sent me an apologetic smile and then must’ve taken his leave, because an actual round of “boos” rang out.

Even Dex couldn’t have gotten that reaction. Probably.

Bishop meandered his way through his crowd of admirers before finally undoing the button on his jacket and dropping down opposite me in the booth. “Hey, man, sorry for the delay.”

I cocked a brow. “It’s hard being so popular.”

He set down his beer and sent me a grin. “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.” As soon as the words were out, he scrubbed his hands over his face. “Have you been here long?”

“The better part of an hour, but who’s keeping track?” I leaned forward, putting a hand on the menu he immediately put in front of his face. “Have you slept?”

“Today?”

“Today. All week.”

He jerked a shoulder and went back to the menu. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Quips aside, my best friend looked like shit. Deep furrows dented his forehead and the grooves around his eyes were deep enough to swim in. Neither detracted from his easy charm and the good looks that led opponents to write him off as a pretty boy who couldn’t close a case.

How wrong they were.

And if he’d sometimes relied on that very thing when he didn’t want someone to study him too closely, who could blame him? We all had ways to cope. But I knew him far too well, and I wasn’t buying one ounce of the bullshit he was selling.

“So, did you put in an order for us?” He popped out a pair of glasses from his inside jacket pocket to peruse the menu, a sure sign he hadn’t been sleeping. He was supposed to wear them for reading and usually didn’t, unless his candle was just about burned out.

“Since when do I order for us? Am I your girl?”

He peered at me over the top of the laminated plastic. “No, because I heard you’ve been stepping out on me. You sure are pretty, though.” He reached over to pinch my cheek just as the waitress he’d been flirting with in the doorway sashayed up to the table.

“Emmy,” he said with that same casual grin. “Are we in your section?”

The lowered lashes smile she gave him said eloquently she wished he was in her very private section, and I wasn’t invited.

Fine by me. I was needed elsewhere.

“I switched with Sue. She had a hot date. Friday and all.” Emmy clutched her pad to her chest and eyed him up and down. “Speaking of hot dates, how come you’re in here and not making some lucky lady’s night?”

“Because I’m making Preston’s night instead.” The grin he aimed at me made me smile despite myself. I knew he was in his worst kind of deflect-and-pretend-everything-is-awesome mode, but Emmy didn’t know him well enough to care.

She might not have cared even if she did know, which was why my buddy usually settled for sleepovers instead of searching for someone with substance. He’d given up on a woman like that existing for him.

Or he had before his trip, anyway, which I suspected was at the root of everything.

Fiji.That still niggled at me. What were the odds that both he and my assistant could have gone to the same place during the same week? I mean, the place was not tiny, a fact I’d verified after talking to him last week. Not tiny like Kensington Square, in any case, and to my knowledge, they had never met while they were home.

But them being there simultaneously almost seemed like…kismet or something.

My moonbeam Ryan was responsible for thoughts like this. As she was also responsible for Bishop taking advantage of my silence—sue me for considering if she’d found her way into my bed yet—to order a large pizza heavy on peppers and onions, which he knew were my least favorite toppings.

I didn’t say that, however. I just sat back in the booth and crossed my arms while Emmy lamented Bishop’s long, tough, stressful week and threw out about sixteen hints that she was free this weekend as she twirled her long ponytails.

“What?” he asked innocently once she’d wandered off, hips swaying.

“You know exactly how she wants to help you to relieve your stress. Just put us all out of our misery.”

“Aww, Shaw, don’t tell me your well in that arena has already dried up? Wasn’t it just last week you were lost in a sex fugue state?”

“Keep your voice down, asshat. I’d be in one right now if I wasn’t sitting here with you while you demonstrate your lack of game.”

His eyebrow climbed. “Guy has sex for the first time in a millennia, and suddenly, he’s an expert.”

“Nah. Definitely not an expert. But we’re way into advanced innings now.”

“How advanced?”

I shrugged and tucked away my phone. “I love her and want her to move in with me. That advanced enough for you?”

He gripped his beer bottle, eyeing me steadily. “That’s advanced, all right. You’ve known her like, what, a week?”

“In person, two now. We emailed and texted a bit for a week before that.” Quite contentiously for the most part, but he didn’t need the details right now.

“Doesn’t that seem soon to you?”

“No. It seems like perfect timing. She came into my world, and everything changed.”

His smile seemed entirely forced. “You sound like a cheesy love song, dude.”

“Yeah, well, I’m happy.”

“Then I’m happy for you. I am,” he insisted at my questioning look. “I just don’t want you to be fucked over by someone looking for a payday from a rich, lonely guy.”

I snorted. “Save your concern for another man then. Ryan couldn’t want my money any less than she does now. In fact—”

“Ryan?”

I laughed. “Yeah, confused me too at first. I expected her to be a guy, but she’s definitely not. Anyway, she’s like the least materialistic person ever. She acts like I’m pampering her if I get takeout Denny’s. Where the hell are you going?” I demanded as he jerked to his feet.

“I need to walk.” The muscle in his jaw was jumping so hard that I could detect it even in the low light of the bar.

“Okay, okay, let’s walk. Let me tell Emmy to box up the pizza. We’ll get it to go.”

Bishop didn’t answer me, but he stood in the same place while I went up to the bar. I paid our check and explained we’d been unexpectedly called away. Emmy’s face fell so far, I almost felt sorry for her—until she returned my credit card with her phone number on the slip. And it was not for me.

I’d give it to him later, once I knew what was going on. I wasn’t sure a meaningless bounce was what he needed. Maybe a monastery was a better solution.

Grabbing the pizza box, I motioned to Bishop across the bar and he followed me outside. It had started to rain, and the streets gleamed wetly under the streetlights as we walked silently to my new Jeep.

He stopped dead and stared. “What the hell’s this?”

“Got a new vehicle.”

“A truck? You?” Shaking his head, he pocketed his glasses. “You planning ahead for the 2.5 kids, Shaw? Jesus.”

I wasn’t aiming for kids, exactly, but yeah, I was planning ahead. “The Lexus never suited me.”

“Since when? Since your hot little assistant filled in while—Jesus. Jesus.” He leaned against the side of my Jeep and raked his hand through his hair.

“Have you become religious? If so, my girlfriend the witch will probably try to counsel you onto another path.”

He didn’t move. I wasn’t sure he was even still breathing. “The witch?”

“More like a kitchen witch, but yeah.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“Look it up. I’m not your Witches for Dummies guidebook.”

“I’m not the dummy here.”

“Jury’s out on that.”

“A witch, Shaw? Like with a broom and cauldron and cackling?”

“Do some research. Your mind needs opening.”

“Right.” He snorted. “My mind’s the flawed one.”

I leaned back against the Jeep beside him and resigned myself to getting soaked. He didn’t seem concerned with petty considerations like damp clothes. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“How many women could be named Ryan?”

Since he’d asked the question under his breath, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to weigh in.

Then he glared at me, slicking his already dripping hair back from his face. “Well?”

“Are you looking for statistics or anecdotal research?”

“Do you have statistics?”

“Hmm. No.”

“This is why I don’t hang out with you more. You’re exasperating.”

“You don’t hang out with me more because whenever you ask, I’m working.” I flicked water off the pizza box. I should put it inside the Jeep, but I didn’t want to set him off again since I wasn’t quite sure what had done it the last time.

This was why I avoided socialization. It was almost as full of pitfalls as dating.

“Yeah.” He frowned. “Good point. Why aren’t you working?”

The evening’s agenda hadn’t panned out thus far, so it was time to admit defeat. “Remember how I said I quit my job? Recall that?”

“What?” He practically roared the word.

“I told you on the phone when you were in Fiji.”

He rubbed his forehead, swiping away water. “Yeah. Shit. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own stuff. No excuse.” Turning toward me, he clamped his arms around me in a bear hug. “About fucking time. We need to celebrate.”

I hugged him back then retreated. “Yeah, hold off on that. Can we discuss this out of the rain?”

“Yeah.” He shook back his damp hair, scattering even more rain on me. At this point, what was some more?

But he didn’t move.

“Stone, if you’ve got something to say—”

“You mentioned someone named April on the phone.”

A tiny noose descended around my throat from unseen hands above me. Did this count as some kind of kismet, as well? Had I pissed off some goddess in a previous life? I’d been allotted enough fortune to meet and fall in love with my moonbeam, but that was it.

Now I was paying the piper. If Bishop and April had hooked up in Fiji, and she’d run from him...well, I was the closest thing to the woman herself and therefore, suitable to kill.

Then again, so was Ryan.

I drew myself up to my full height. If my feet squished, so be it. “You’ll have to get through me to get to her.”

“Oh, is that so?” He stepped closer.

I moved forward until I was nearly standing on his shoes. Rain pelted us with the ferocity of the glare in Bishop’s eyes. “That’s so. I love her, and I’m prepared to withstand your wrath.”

“You love her,” he said slowly.

“Yes.”

“Since when did you come up with so much love for so many people? The last time I saw you, you were lamenting the fact that a woman from the Chinese takeout place had dared to ask you out.”

“I wasn’t lamenting. But when a guy says no after the third time you’ve tucked your number into a fortune cookie…”

“Preston, shut up and tell me why the hell you’re in love with April.”

“April?” I sputtered out a laugh as I shook back my wet hair like a dog. Not flattering, but the comparison was apt. “What? Sorry, pal, talking to the wrong Shaw brother there. Though love isn’t the word I’d use for Dex’s feelings for her. If he even has any. The fucker won’t be straight about what happened between them.”

“Dexter touched April? When?” Bishop grabbed my shoulders. “Start talking before I go over to your brother’s place and talk to him myself. And I can assure you, I’ll get the answers I’m looking for.”

All at once, I realized the joke was over. And it was on me.

Usually, I processed information rapidly. It was actually one of my best skills under normal circumstances. But I’d been off all night, probably due in no small part to my mind and other vital appendages being focused on Ryan’s naked body.

Add in the fact that Bishop seemed incapable of saying his direct thoughts along with my being out of practice at handling his doublespeak, and it seemed as if the chances of my buddy taking over my position in the firm grew slimmer with every passing moment.

Maybe he shouldn’t. My best friend was clearly on the ropes. He was exhausted and running on empty. I’d chalked up most of it to emotional chaos. But there could be more. He hadn’t taken a vacation in forever and pushed himself way too hard.

If working at my father’s firm was slowly killing me, why did I want to saddle my best friend with working there? He might not be happy where he was now—and that was more a gut feeling than anything firm—but my job was far from an improvement. If Bishop didn’t want to take over for me, I couldn’t blame him.

I squinted at him in the slanting rain. “We need to figure this out.”

He didn’t respond.

“Let’s backtrack,” I added before he hauled off and hit me. He wasn’t prone to such actions, but love made fools of us all.

Not to mention missing dinner.

“Then start talking some sense, because right now, you aren’t making any.”

I switched hands on the pizza box and used my sleeve to wipe off my cheek. “You told me on the phone her name wasn’t April.”

His jaw locked. “I didn’t know it was April.”

“You’re saying it was April? You went on vacation to sleep with my assistant?” I gave him a good hard shove, belatedly realizing our increasingly loud argument had gotten the attention of more than a couple of passing customers. “She’s gotten damn popular lately.”

“There you go again, asshole. What are you intimating is going on with her and Dexter? If he’s been fucking her too—”

“Too?Here I was thinking you might want my position in the firm, and you’re balling my assistant.”