MY DAD'S BOSS

  Mia Madison

  My Dad’s Boss

  Copyright © 2016 Mia Madison

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events, locations, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  About the Author

  More Stories by Mia

  Chapter One

  A GORGEOUS MAN drinking iced coffee was checking me out.

  Under normal circumstances, that probably wasn’t too exciting. At the university, I got my fair share of male interest. I was twenty and in good shape. Men seemed to like my wavy shoulder-length honey-blonde tresses and blue eyes.

  But now I was stuck at my parent’s house for the summer. Most of my friends were finding exciting internships, backpacking in exotic lands, or even just perfecting their tans at the beach. The most interesting thing I’d done lately was to sit in this coffeehouse, sipping Frappuccinos, and looking for a part-time job.

  So yeah, a handsome man sending admiring glances my way rated pretty high on my own personal excitement meter this summer.

  I had my laptop open to several job search sites, plus Facebook and my e-mail, but my attention kept going back to him. He was sitting a few tables away, with a newspaper spread out in front of him. A newspaper! Who read those anymore? But he was older than me, maybe in his late thirties. He wasn’t old, but I guess newspapers had played a bigger part of his life than mine.

  A chime sounded on my laptop. It was Abby, a friend I’d taken a couple of classes, with wanting to know what I was up to. I told her a hot guy was checking me out.

  She replied: Lucky you! Tell me about him.

  Mmm, another excuse to look at him. From what I’d seen so far, he was definitely worth a second—and third and fourth—glance.

  I responded: He’s older, but super hot!!!! Dark hair, a little bit messy in a sexy way, kwim? And at his temples, it’s a little salt and peppery. And god, his glasses. They make him look so damn delicious!

  She responded right away: Shit, he does sound hot. Ring?

  I squinted at his hand where it rested on the table: Nope!

  Abby was enthusiastic: Then go for it, girl! Older guys know what to do with a woman. Trust me!

  She’d dated an older man? She didn’t really seem the type. Then again, I hadn’t thought I was either until he caught my eye today.

  And it was clear that I’d drawn his, too. He kept glancing over my way. When he did, I pretended to be absorbed my chat with Abby, but once I goofed up and looked at him right when he was looking at me. My blue eyes connected with his light ones, a gorgeous hazel that seemed to look deep inside of me. It was like every nerve in my body sat up and paid attention. God he was hot.

  When he saw me looking, he raised his cup, as if to say cheers. I smiled, trying to seem confident but probably coming off as a bit bashful, if truth be told. A guy that looked that good had to have lots of women flirting with him. What did I know about men his age? They were real men, not like the idiot boys who hit on me in college.

  Oh crap, I’d missed several messages from Abbie: What’s his build like? Body-builder or dad bod? Is he tall? Cassie, are you there? I need deets!!!

  Hastily, I typed: He’s built all right. Strong arms. Broad chest.

  I haven’t even said a word to him and already, I liked him better than most of those asshole guys at the college parties and frat houses.

  Her response: Seriously, you need to go for it. You’ve spent long enough moping over your stupid ex. Time to move on … with an older hottie who knows what he’s doing!

  Reading that made my face flush. For some reason, I did suspect that the man knew what he was doing in the bedroom. It was just something about his confident self-assurance. He wasn’t blushing like I was. He was just letting me know that he found me attractive. His confidence set him apart from the fumbling guys my friends set me up with.

  Mr. Hottie picked up the newspaper and refolded it, setting it back on the table. In the process, he’d angled himself toward me a little, and now I could better see what he was wearing. A black t-shirt with a picture of a guitar on it. It looked great with his tan skin. The firm muscles of his arms and chests filled it out nicely. And black jeans, too—who was this guy, Batman? Very few people wore black in Florida in the summertime. But the overall effect was pretty enticing. I was sick of seeing guys who dressed like wanna-be surfers or clueless tourists. We got enough of both of those around here, and they definitely weren’t my type.

  Self-consciously, I smoothed my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. His eyes followed my movement, and somehow that pleased me. I hadn’t had a boyfriend in a year, when my high school sweetheart, Brad Harper, had cheated on me with my best friend, Stephanie Mills. The betrayal and loss of my boyfriend and my best friend had been devastating. I’d loved Brad so much and truly thought we’d be together for the rest of our lives. Sometimes I wasn’t sure I’d ever get past that relationship.

  Nobody I’d met in the past year had tempted me very much. Most of the guys my age were just so immature. They only wanted sex. None of them seemed interested in being my friend as well as my lover. And none had the easy, sexy confidence of this man sitting a few tables away. I didn’t know him, and he didn’t know me, but it was fun, being the object of his attention. So maybe I could do a little more to keep that attention.

  Abby didn’t seem to be online anymore, so I closed that chat and dutifully went back to searching the job ads. But I glanced up at him from time to time, looking at him through my lashes. When our gazes met, I gave him a quick smile before looking down again. A few moments later when I risked another peek at him, he was smiling back. Okay, so far so good.

  My Frappuccino was half finished, but there was still a bit of the whipped cream left. I dipped the straw through the white fluffiness and pulled it out, bring it to my mouth. Watching him, I flicked my tongue out, licking the cream off the end of the straw. Okay, so that was a pretty obvious thing to do, but it wasn’t like I was super well-versed in across-the-room flirting techniques. Or any flirting techniques. I’d become friends with Brad our sophomore year of high school. By the beginning of junior year, we were a couple, right up until last year. So basically, my flirting-with-a-hot-stranger skills hadn’t progressed past those of a shy high school girl.

  Mr. Hottie seemed to like my effort, though. He winked at me, and I smiled back, licking my lips. That one hadn’t been planned—my mouth felt sticky from the whipped cream.

  Okay, what next? It’s not like I thought anything was going to come of this, but it was fun. It was also getting me turned on, a rare feeling for me nowadays. My sex drive had all but disappeared after Brad’s betrayal. Maybe a little harmless flirty was a step in the right direction.

  Trying to look casual, I ran my fingers through my hair again, pushing it away from my face, only this time I moved my fingers down my neck to the top of my chest. I stopped at the neckline of the sleeveless shirt I wore. I slipped one finger under the fabric and tugged the material out a little. Then I got embarrassed and hastily picked up my drink, taking a long sip.

  When I looked up at him, he raised an eyebrow at me. He’d clearly noticed my little performance. He was grinning but not ogling the way some guys did. I got the feeling that he was enjoying himself, but that he considered this to be harmless flirting, too. Or did he do this kind of thing a lot? He was pretty damn good-looking. I bet he didn’t have much trouble attracting female attention.

  The next time I glanced his way, he was ready for me. He held up his cup, pointed to mine, and then jerked his thumb toward the counter where a half dozen people waited in line. It took me a minute to figure out he wanted to buy me a drink.

  Did I want him to do that? Sure, I could use another, but what would I say when he brought it over? What might he say? Still—hot guy, free drink. It was pretty much a no-brainer. But how to tell him what I wanted? It would kill the mystery to just march over there and give him my order. And then I had an idea.

  Nodding at him, I put my finger up, signaling for him to wait. And then I tore a sheet off of the pad of paper I had on the table, ready to take notes about any interesting jobs, not that I’d found any today.

  I jotted down the name of my favorite drink and folded the paper in half, then in half again. It was a skill I hadn’t used since boring high school classes, but thirty seconds later I was holding a pretty decent paper airplane.

  He raised his eyebrow in admiration when I held it up. I took careful aim, drew my hand back, and let it fly. Normally, paper airplanes have a mind of their own, but this one flew relati
vely straight. Perhaps there was some kind of guardian angel for women who hadn’t had sex in over a year. The airplane headed straight for him but then lost altitude a few feet in front of him. With surprisingly quick reflexes, he lunged, snatching it before it hit the ground.

  Sitting back down, he unfolded it and then frowned, looking from the paper to me. I guess he’d never heard of a Thin Mint Frappuccino—most people hadn’t. Smiling, I pointed at the paper again, and he took off his glasses and squinted at it. I guess he only needed them for distance, but he’d looked so hot whipping them off like that.

  He read the “fine print” I’d written: They know how to make it. He gave me a thumbs up, stood, and got in line.

  Wow... that meant that in just a few minutes, he’d be coming over here. What would I say? I hadn’t thought much beyond: He’s hot. This is fun. I deserve a little fun. I didn’t know what to do when he came to bring me my drink.

  I still had a few minutes. He was fourth in line, so I opened my purse and took out my compact. Quickly, I touched up my eye makeup, put on some lipstick, and smoothed powder over my cheeks. I didn’t wear too much make-up in the summer, but I always wore some because my eyelashes were blonde and therefore nearly invisible without mascara. Thank god for mascara.

  When I was done, he was third in line. Nervously, I waited, unsure what to do with myself. I glanced at Facebook. Checked my e-mail. Closed the tabs I’d opened for jobs that hadn’t shown much promise.

  Now he was second in line, and the person in front of him looked almost done. Since he had his back to me, I could watch him without risk of getting caught, so I did, waiting to see how he interacted with the barista. But then a shadow passed over the table and someone was blocking my view. Two someones.

  I looked up and my stomach dropped to my feet. This—I’d never expected this. I wasn’t ready for this. The two people standing in front of me were the last two people on earth I wanted to encounter. But there they were. Standing in front of me.

  Brad and Stephanie.

  My ex-boyfriend and my ex-best friend.

  Crap.

  Chapter Two

  OH. MY. GOD. They were here. Both of them. Together. I hadn't seen Brad since last Christmas when our families had attended the same holiday party. And I hadn’t seen Stephanie since—since I found out she’d been sleeping with my boyfriend a year ago. And apparently, she still was.

  Looking up at them, I wished I were anywhere but here. Anywhere but in this coffee shop, in this city, in this state, and on this planet. Where was a shuttle to Mars when you needed one?

  “Hi Cassie,” Brad said, his arm around Stephanie. I hated tilting my neck up to see him, but that, at least, was one thing I could fix. I popped out of the booth and to my feet, causing them to move back a step or two.

  “Cassie,” Stephanie said, moving toward me. Did she really think I’d stood up to hug her? After what she’d done to me.

  “Hi,” I said, instilling as much coldness and don’t-try-to-hug-me vibes as I could into the one syllable.

  “We didn’t know you’d be here,” Brad said, and I almost rolled my eyes. What, like they thought I’d thought they came to see me? Not likely.

  “Yeah, well, it’s too hot outside for me.”

  Brad smiled, no doubt remembering how I used to perform frequent odes to air conditioning. I almost smiled back before I remembered that he’d cheated on me. Broken my heart. And now they were here in front of me. How was I going to get through this?

  And now Brad was telling me about his summer, about the internships he and Stephanie had gotten. Together. So not only did they have each other, but they also had a far better summer lined up than I did. This was a nightmare.

  “And it’s only three days a week, so that gives us lots of time for other things,” Brad concluded.

  “Like hanging out in coffee shops,” Stephanie said with a giggle. “I mean, not like all day,” she said, eyeing the signs in the booth that I’d been here for quite some time. I wondered if I could use the plate my scone had been on a few hours ago as a ninja throwing star. The vision of it knocking her off her feet was a pleasant one.

  “Congratulations on your internship,” I said lamely. I wanted to think of a way to end this conversation, but yet I didn’t want to gather all my stuff and pack up while they were standing there.

  And then someone nearby cleared his throat and appeared in front of me. “Here’s your Thin Mint Frappuccino,” a deep voice said.

  I looked up and a half dozen emotions flickered through my brain, chief among them: God, he’s even more handsome up close, How on earth am I going to explain who he is to Brad and Stephanie? Wait, I don’t even know who he is, and who the hell cares what they think? And Dammit Stephanie, stop looking at him that way. He’s my perfect stranger, not yours.

  Both my exes, ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend, seemed a little awed by Mr. Hottie’s presence. I could understand that, I certainly was, but I also didn’t like the skeptical look that was growing on Brad’s face. “You two know each other?” He looked from me to the older man by my side and back again.

  His presumption in asking made me mad. “No, he just goes around bringing everyone a Thin Mint Frappuccino.”

  “I figured if I asked enough people, someone was bound to like it,” Mr. Hottie said, and I looked up at him and smiled, finally taking the cup from him. Up close his hazel eyes were even more mesmerizing. They were distracting—the kind of eyes I could get lost in.

  “So… are you two, like, seeing each other?” Stephanie said, still staring at him, disbelief in her eyes. “Your mom told my mom you weren’t seeing anyone.” Thanks, Mom.

  “We just—” he said, and I jumped in.

  “We just started dating,” I blurted out. Anything to wipe that look of condescension off her face. Of course, it would be replaced by an even worse expression once she figured out I was a liar. All three of us looked up at the older man though I’m pretty sure I was the only one holding my breath.

  There was a really long moment as he looked down at me. His stunning eyes seemed to drill into me, telling me that I shouldn’t have lied. Which I knew. But please, please let him play along. If he didn’t, I really would have to move to Mars.

  “It feels like we’ve known each other for longer, though, doesn’t it?” he said lightly. And then he put his arm around my shoulder. Thank god. He was helping me. Lying for me. And wow, it felt good to press against his long, firm body. Involuntarily, I slumped against him with relief, and his fingers closed around my shoulder.

  Brad stared at me in shock, which was gratifying. I wanted to say, “See, I can get a hot guy even though you dumped me,” even if it wasn’t true. But then a new thought occurred to me. If he were really my boyfriend, this would be the point where I’d introduce him. Which generally required knowing his name.

  The silence wore on, and both Brad and Steph were looking at me expectantly. Maybe there was a way I could do this. I looked up at the handsome man next to me. “Hon, this is my ex-boyfriend, Brad. And his current girlfriend, Stephanie.”

  His eyes twinkled briefly at me, perhaps admiring the way I’d refrained from saying his name. “I’m Nick,” he said, thrusting out his hand to Brad, who shook it, his eyes still jumping from me to Nick and back again. Nick. It was a nice name.

  My rescuer shook hands with Stephanie, too. She had a strange look on her face, and she glanced down at the cup I held. “So, Nick, how long have you known Carlie?”

  Oh shit. She was trying to trap him. I felt him take a breath, I could feel his chest moving against my side, and I knew he was about to answer. So I cut him off.

  “He knows my name is Cassie, Steph.”

  “Then why does your cup say, ‘Cute Girl’ on it?” I glanced at the cup, and that’s what it really did say.

  “Because she is,” Nick said, pulling me in closer and leaning down to kiss my temple. Holy crap! So far, he was a really awesome fake boyfriend.

  Brad was staring at me now, perhaps shocked to see another man kiss me, no matter how chastely. Served him right after what he did to me. But then Brad seemed to recover his usual swagger as he switched the subject. “So, what about you, Cassie? Any internships or exciting jobs this summer?”