Miss Understanding (The Miss Series Book 1)

by Aubrey Bondurant

  His jaw ticked, but he must’ve realized it was not wise to argue with a hangry woman.

  “How will you get to the store if I leave you here?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Lyft. Uber.”

  He shook his head. “You aren’t likely to find either in this small town.”

  I took out my phone as if making a point in bringing up the Uber app. “You haven’t been home in how long? Oh, right, you won’t tell me. Anyhow, here we go. I’m booking one now. Let me type in the Food Lion and boom. See, he’ll be here in, er, twenty-seven minutes.” Crap.

  A smirk played on his lips. The type that made me want to strangle him with my ugly green puffy coat. We were in a standoff, neither one of us moving. Finally, he relented.

  “Let’s go to the grocery store, Kendall. We’ll stay here at least for tonight and talk about other options in the morning.”

  Huh, it was the very first time he’d called me by my first name. Progress, maybe?

  Liam opted to take a call from the truck while I got a cart and started shopping. Since he’d given me his Visa card, an unexpected boon, I fully intended to use it. I absolutely loved to cook. Unfortunately, the options were somewhat limited in the small store, but thirty minutes later I’d found everything I needed for dinner tonight and meals for tomorrow. Guaranteed, though, he’d have something to say once he saw how many groceries I’d bought. But he hadn’t fired me so far. What was one more strike against me?

  “How many people did you shop for?” he asked, getting out of the truck to help me with the bags.

  “Shirley said it may snow. So I had to get more than I planned just in case.”

  “In case of what?”

  “I have no clue. But I once remember watching the national news about a big snowstorm where people were stocking up on bread, water, milk, and toilet paper. Since I’ve never been in snow, I wasn’t sure what to do.”

  Hell, I’d even bought things for baking. I hoped I’d have some time over the weekend at least.

  He simply sighed, taking the groceries and putting them into the back. “I should probably grab some things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Coffee. Food stuff.”

  “Have you finally realized the house is the best option in town?”

  Jaw tick. “It’s fine.”

  Probably as close to a yes as I would get. “I bought you coffee. I also got you eggs for your omelets along with veggies to put in them.” He always ordered the same thing every morning, making it easy to know what he wanted.

  “You do realize those things are already cooked from the downstairs cafeteria when you get them for me at the office, don’t you?”

  Although I had no issue cooking an omelet for him, I wasn’t at a point where I was willing to tell him that. “I also bought you protein bars, yogurts, energy drinks, and different kinds of nuts.”

  I could only hope at least one of those things would put him in a better mood.

  Chapter Ten

  Liam

  A good assistant knew all of the things Kendall had rattled off. After all, she brought me breakfast and lunch most days from upstairs in the on-site cafeteria. I rarely ate anywhere but at my desk because I was constantly working. Yet hearing her recite all of my food preferences left me feeling unnerved. But not any more than the thought of us sharing a house.

  There was something very intimate about doing so, and I didn’t like it. Not one bit. But once again, she’d raised the point of me not giving her many options. Honestly, I’d resigned myself to having to stay in one of the cheap motels in town, but she’d surprised me with her resourcefulness. Even more, she’d shocked me by basically telling me I could go to hell if I didn’t choose to stay here. Her little outburst was way too much of a turn-on to be comfortable.

  Once we were both inside the truck, I started it up and pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road. The house wasn’t too bad, I thought, pulling into the driveway. It was only a few miles from my mother’s home, and if it had a functioning office, that would be better than working in a hotel room. I had to give Kendall credit.

  “You sure you don’t want to head over to your mom’s tonight? I can unload everything and get your office ready.”

  Considering her irritation with me earlier, I was humbled she’d offer. “I’m sure.” Although guilt gnawed at me for not driving over there right away, I fought it. I needed another night before I could see my mother and talk about my father.

  “Okay. So I’ll start unpacking the groceries, move my stuff upstairs to the bedroom, and set up the office equipment.”

  “No. I’ll take the room upstairs. It will be easier for me with the office up there. You can have the master.” Perhaps ceding her the bigger bedroom would alleviate some of my guilt for being a dick to her. Unfortunately, I could already picture her soaking in the tub. It was not a good professional image to have in my mind.

  I decided to make myself useful and finish bringing everything in.

  While Kendall took her things into the master bedroom, I started taking the folders out of the large suitcase in order to organize them. Although there were electronic copies of everything, having the actual copies here made me feel better. I was old-fashioned when it came to using paper and a reliable highlighter. Even if I only needed the folders she’d brought in her carry-on, I was more comfortable having everything here at my fingertips.

  “I could’ve done that.”

  I glanced up from where I was kneeling on the floor putting the files into boxes.

  She’d changed her clothing. Now in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, she’d put her hair up.

  I was speechless. I’d never seen her outside of the office or so casual and was taken aback by how naturally beautiful she was.

  “It’s fine,” I told her. Unloading the files was the least I could do after making her haul them here. “At least there was no underwear on top of these files.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, I’m sure it traumatized you to see a woman’s thongs.”

  While Kendall bustled around the house, I busied myself upstairs in the office. I got my laptop signed on to the Wi-Fi and managed to hook it up to the printer. Luckily, there were simple directions for doing both tasks. I’d just finished marking up a document I needed her to make edits to when she popped her head in.

  “Dinner is ready.”

  “You didn’t have to cook.” She might be my assistant, and her presence here was part of a work trip, as far as she was concerned, but she didn’t have to be my cook and housekeeper, too. Even I wasn’t ass enough to assume that.

  “I wanted to. Oh, you have the edits ready. My laptop is set up downstairs, so bring them down.”

  It was after nine. I should tell her she could leave them until morning. But I couldn’t because I needed to work tonight. Needed to get back the balance tipped by yesterday’s phone call from my mother. Work is what soothed me. Work is what reminded me what my priority was. What I was good at. I’d busted my ass to get out of town, go to college, and achieve what I had.

  When I got downstairs, I expected pizza or maybe a frozen entrée heated in the oven. I hadn’t expected a gourmet meal. “You cooked this?” There was salmon, asparagus, and a green salad on the small, round dining table. She’d set the table with plates and silverware.

  “Yep. It’s pesto salmon, sautéed green beans with a bit of onion and bacon, and a salad with ranch dressing. I went low carb as it seems to be what you do most often.”

  Panic suddenly seized me. The house. The dinner. Her underwear on top of my files. Her knowledge of everything about me. Was she trying to catch herself a husband by playing house? Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be the first young woman in a law firm with the idea of landing a rich husband. “I think we need to talk.”

  She quirked her head to the side. “About what?”

  How could I possibly say this without sounding like a complete asshole? For all I knew, she had a legitimate crush on me and w
asn’t trying to be manipulative. “Look. This week I needed you here to help me be able to work while balancing my personal shit. But the house and dinner— I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. I mean you’re my assistant. I’m your boss.”

  She stood there with her brown eyes wide, before understanding seemed to settle in. “Are you trying to let me down easy because you think”—she motioned between us—“I’m pursuing some sort of relationship with you?”

  “It certainly appears that way.” But maybe putting her on the spot was causing her to backtrack. Oh shit, what if there were tears? I didn’t do well with crying women. Not well at all.

  But much to my shock, she simply started laughing. We’re talking the kind of laughter that caused her to brace herself against the table and grab her side. “Oh my God. You thought— Wow. Oh, Jesus. It’s too much.” She was shaking her head and went to grab a drink out of the refrigerator.

  If ever my ego had taken a hit, this was a direct one. “Okay. Fine, you’ve made your point. But in my defense, you got this house, and the underwear, and freaked me out with this meal.”

  She was still grinning. “I got this house because you are impossible to please with your just figure it out, Ms. Tate when I told you about the motel options.”

  I didn’t care for the way she did my impression. I sounded like a real jerk.

  “As for dinner, I grew up cooking, and I take classes whenever I can. And you gave me your Visa, which was basically a free pass to buy and cook what I wanted. And I’m not going to talk about the thongs in the suitcase. My embarrassment equaled yours, I’m sure. But rest assured and believe me when I say you are soooo not my type.”

  There were a lot of o’s in so. “That’s a relief, then.”

  With my irrational panic attack having subsided, and my embarrassment maxed out, I took a seat and started eating my food. “So, you go to culinary school?”

  “No. I’m studying for my bachelor’s degree in business administration and take cooking classes when I can.”

  Damn, the green beans were the best thing ever. And the salmon divine. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a home-cooked meal. “When do you go to school?”

  “At night.”

  “After work?”

  “Yep. Monday through Thursday.”

  Which meant she was missing class in addition to everything else. Great. Add it to the list of how I’d been a selfish prick in dragging her here.

  “Next week is winter break, so it was good timing for travel, I suppose.”

  What a relief. “Business administration is what you hope to do?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but it looks good on a resumé.”

  I studied her. “And the cooking classes are for fun?”

  “Yeah. If I had my way, I’d do cooking classes full-time.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  She gave me a small smile. “Maybe someday, but for now I need to get a bachelor’s degree.”

  I wanted to ask if she intended to search for another job since her true passion was cooking. But I tamped down on the urge. I’d already found out more about her in the last few hours than I’d known in the four months she’d worked for me.

  “Are you truly okay with staying here at the house? Or do I need to make a reservation at the two-and-one-half-star motel with the reputation for bedbugs?” she asked.

  Taking a look around the house, I realized it was clean, homey, and spacious. “I guess this will do. But I don’t want the wrong impression to get around the office because we shared a house.”

  Again with the eye roll. “Yeah, because nothing improper could possibly happen in a hotel.”

  She had a point.

  “I have no intention of advertising our accommodations if you’re worried about that part. And if you’re still concerned about the other, as previously established, you’re not my type.”

  If I heard those words one more time, I was likely to ask something stupid like what was her type.

  “Given the limited options in town, this place looked the cleanest,” she said. “And it had an office. Did you get on the Wi-Fi?”

  “I did. And the printer seems to be working.” I finished up my dinner, washed it down with water, before standing up. I should offer to do the dishes since she went to the trouble of cooking.

  As if she read my mind, she spoke first. “Leave them. I’ll do the edits real quick and do the dishes later.”

  “I can do them later.”

  “You’re billing on a case. And I’m charging overtime, don’t you worry.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Kendall

  My muscles relaxed the moment I eased into the hot water. My apartment only had a shower, so soaking in a bubble bath was a luxury I hadn’t enjoyed in quite a while. With a couple drops of the lavender bubble bath I’d found under the sink left from the last occupant, I was finally winding down from the weirdest day in the history of strange days.

  I chuckled as I remembered the expression on my boss’s face when he’d thought I was turning into Suzie Homemaker in the hopes of catching myself a husband. I don’t think I’d ever laughed so hard. If only he knew how many times over the last four months I’d written in my notepad document of ways to have him suffer. He hadn’t a clue. Instead, his expression when I’d said he wasn’t my type had been almost offended. To be honest, he was my type in all ways physical—I couldn’t deny how handsome he was. But everything else was a deal-breaker. He was too uptight, too controlling, and way too much of an ass.

  But today, I had to admit that in addition to his normal dickish behavior, I’d also seen glimpses of a gentleman. He’d taken my luggage to load it up into the truck. He’d gotten out of the truck to take the grocery bags and brought them in the house. He’d even offered to do the dishes. Well, sort of. He’d offered to have them sit until later. But one thing I couldn’t stand was a dirty kitchen. It was a pet peeve of mine, so I’d taken on the task myself.

  God, I was tired. And as soon as I stepped out of the bathroom, I was also a bit chilly. I should’ve purchased a pair of flannel pajamas while at Walmart tonight. But I’d already spent enough money on winter gear I wouldn’t need after this week. I opted to dress in my long-sleeved UCLA shirt along with my yoga pants.

  I decided to go through the house in order to ensure it was locked up before I went to sleep. I didn’t expect to see Liam at the kitchen table.

  His head was in his hands. His laptop to the side, obviously not something he was looking at. Shit. He almost appeared vulnerable.

  Enough for me to make a mistake in asking, “Are you okay?”

  He instantly stiffened and sat up. “Fine. Go to bed, Ms. Tate. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

  We were back to Ms. Tate and his dismissive tone. It was just as well, I supposed. It was becoming apparent we weren’t meant to be on friendly terms. I turned without saying another word and went back to my bedroom.

  The next morning, my alarm went off way too early. I think my body was still on California time and hadn’t yet adjusted to the three-hour time difference. But it was seven o’clock Virginia time, which meant I should probably start the day. Especially since I didn’t know what it held. As I hopped out of bed, I realized how cold it was even with the bedroom heater on.

  I made quick work out of washing my face, brushing my teeth, and dressing. I wasn’t quite sure what attire was called for on a working weekend, so I settled on slacks and a blouse, covered by my cashmere sweater. Looking at myself in the full-length mirror, I realized I managed to appear fashionable. I even had my boss thinking I never shopped at places like Walmart or Target. But the fact was most of my clothing was secondhand. It’s what I needed to do in order to get my wardrobe to an acceptable level for my corporate job.

  As I walked out to the kitchen, I didn’t see anything out of place. Maybe Liam wasn’t up yet. Picturing him asleep upstairs was unsettling. Guess he was right about the house having a different vibe than a hotel
where we’d be in distinctly separate rooms. But damn if I’d admit it to him. I went about starting the coffee first. Then, as I was whisking up eggs with some milk, I heard the front door shut.

  Because of the open layout from the kitchen to the living room, I was able to see him there in the foyer, bent at the waist. He was wearing basketball shorts, a sweatshirt, and running shoes. He appeared to be catching his breath before standing up and lifting his sweatshirt to wipe the perspiration from his forehead.

  Holy shit.

  My boss had a six-pack.

  And I was staring at it.

  I tore my hungry gaze away just as he realized I was there.

  “Good morning,” I greeted, busying myself with the eggs and trying to calm my pulse from the peek of his delicious body. Damn. I would’ve preferred if he’d been soft around the middle. It would’ve been karma for being a dick. But no. He had to have a hot body, too.

  “Morning.”

  “I have coffee if you want it. But I’ll let you pour it so you don’t think I’m penning little hearts next to your name in my head.” Could I help it if I messed with him a little? What could I say? He was starting to bring out my sassy side.

  “I think you made the point of me not being your type very clear last night,” he retorted before walking over to take a mug and pour his coffee.

  “Cream is in the fridge and sugar is next to the pot.” Yeah, so I knew how the man liked his coffee. Most assistants did.

  “I grabbed a protein bar, so no need to make me eggs.”

  Damn. I’d already mixed six of them. Twice as many as I’d eat. “Okay.” I’d make an extra omelet and put it in the fridge for later. Maybe I’d eat it for lunch.

  Putting the mushrooms, onions, and peppers in the pan with some butter, I sautéed them slightly. I then added the egg mixture, letting it firm up on all sides before flipping it over with a flip of my wrist.